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But then I hear it again.
I step closer, straining my ears to make it out. My heart slams in my chest because I know what this wall is. I know who it must be that I’m hearing. I press my ear all the way against it, desperate for anything from her. Even if this is so out of line, if I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, I don’t care. I don’t have the energy left to care.
Expecting to hear her voice on a phone call, or overhearing whatever she’s watching, I gasp when I realize it’s not either of those things. It’s the heartbreaking, earth shattering sound of her crying. The woman who doesn’t cry.
Not in the way that I don’t cry, because I know I’m a huge baby. It doesn’t take much. But Kara? She really never did, not once in the time I’ve known her.
I forgot just how thin the walls were until this moment. My bare back falls against the cool wall, sending a shiver through me that I ignore. It doesn’t feel like anything compared to the crack that’s deepening in my heart at the sound of her sobs.
All I want is to tell her that I’m here. She’s spent too damn long feeling alone, and blaming herself, and I can’t fucking stand that I know she’s doing it now. It’s the whole reason she’s done this to us. The reason she broke my heart. She doesn’t forgive herself for being who she is, for making mistakes, for letting fear poison all of the relationships in her life until she felt so completely unworthy.
On the surface– sure, she dumped me because she has a rocky past with one of my best friends. It was too easy of an excuse to push me away. I should’ve known we were walking on thin ice.Every time it hit me, just how much I was starting to care about her, I should’ve known.
The worst, honest truth of that, is that I probably did. But she made me feel so good that I didn’t care. I would’ve risked it all for her. I still would.
I remember crying over Olivia, and Caleb, and even a couple of exes before them. I remember being hurt, but it never felt like this. In reality, my pride might’ve been hurt more than most things. With Caleb I was simply exhausted, and then I was relieved when we ended things.
I’ve never wanted to rip my own heart out of my chest, because I’m not strong enough to take what it’s doing to me. I’m so desperate to numb the feeling, and yet I don’t want it to go away. Not when it’s the only thing tying us together.
That, and the pair of socks that have been sitting on my bedroom floor for the last month. It would feel too final if I picked them up. Right now, I can delude myself into thinking they’re just sitting there waiting for her to come back for them.
I’ll give her shit for “trashing my apartment,” she’ll laugh before she throws them right in my face, and I’ll pretend it’s the worst thing she could do. I’m not a bad actress, I could convince her I’ve never smelled anything more foul in my entire life. When she pretends it offends her, I’d sweep her off her feet so she falls back on the bed.
I hear her crying start up again, and throw my head down in defeat. I couldn’t be more of a fool, sitting here daydreaming about a time that’s likely lost forever.
A huge piece of me is aching to bang on this wall and beg her to let me in. To give me anything.
A bigger piece is aware that it’s pointless. She doesn’t back down when she’s decided something.
The sound of her bathtub draining fills my ears. Somehow that gives me enough confidence to shout, I don’t even bother to worry if it’s loud enough to drown me out.
“I can’t do this anymore!”
The ache dulls the smallest amount, as if I’ve tricked myself into thinking I’ve done something that’s going to make a difference.
I sit there for a few more minutes, wondering if I’ll get any more glimpses into her evening. It remains silent when the tub is emptied, and I know she’s gone. Not just because she isn’t making a sound, but because I think I’dfeelher if she was still close by.
Soulmates have to be real, because there’s no other way to explain how that works.
I finally decide to stand, now that my ass is numb from being on the hard tile floor so long. My stiff joints protest at the movement, and I let out a small groan of discomfort as I straighten.
“Reya?”
I freeze, sure that I’ve absolutely lost my mind. That, or there’s a ghost in my bathroom. I did used to always say she was one.
I don’t dare move, I barely breathe. I really am insane for waiting to hear it again when it was no doubt my overactive imagination.
The continuous quiet makes me snap.
“Get a grip,” I whisper to myself, before my feet drag me out into the hall.
I almost trip over the sneakers I’d been too unsettled to remember to take off by my front door. I’m going to really hurt myself if I keep being such a mess. I shouldn’t be trusted anywhere near shoes that aren’t actually tied on my feet. They’re dangerous.
I grab them to bring them over to the rack I have in the living room. Even that’s a mess, not big enough to contain the mess of Dahlia and I. I can put a lot of that blame on her, she owns way more shoes than I do, and she throws them in the general vicinity whenever she wants them off.
With nothing better to do, I sit down on the floor in front of the pile and start organizing. I find pairs and set them together neatly in front of the rack. I separate them too, putting hers on one side, and mine on the other.
One, small, sudden thud sounds at my front door and it scares me so much that the shoe in my hand is thrown towards it with all the force I have.
