Work Text:
Brooke hated him.
She hated him. Hated him with every fiber of her being.
Hated his fucking smile.
Hated his stupid laugh.
Hated how his hand fit into hers like a puzzle piece.
Hated how she misses it.
She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be thinking about him.
But her apartment feels too big and her chest feels so small.
She just wants to be alone.
Or be with him.
Or be alone…with him.
It isn’t like she isn’t used to this. This loneliness.
She had been alone all her life. The only thing she could depend on was herself. If she couldn’t trust herself, she was lost.
The ceiling fan above her spun a tale of two lovers who met at the wrong time. She didn’t like this story. She told it to stop, or at least slow down so she could catch her breath. It didn’t listen. It went around and around and spun its story into her head.
She got up and flipped on the lights. She ignored light and dark arguing back and forth in voices that sounded too familiar. Said words that still stung her eyes.
The running water streamed songs that were too much to hear right now, so she turned them off.
The glass in her hand reflected images of a happier time. Images of the two of them running around a grocery store like fools in love. Because they were. Reflected images of her smiling. She always hated her smile.
The towel she saw out of the corner of her eye dried the tears to come. Dried them up so good that they didn’t come in the first place. Her face was dry, save for the drops of water that escaped her mouth.
The water she drank helped to cool her down a bit. Made her forget the taste of I love you on her lips. Made her forget the what must have been millions of kisses they shared.
Her sheets slide against her skin the way he used to.
Her pillow muffles the scream she doesn’t let out
Her heart pulls her head down to the pit of her stomach where they sit a while. They watch the sun come up from the safety of Brooke’s stomach. They dance with the morning light as it streams through the blinders. Her head and her heart move around like they own the place. Like they own her.
Brooke doesn’t know how to be half anymore.
She was half for so long.
Half a person
Half a friend
Half a lover
And she doesn’t know how much longer she can take being a half.
not now that she knows what it’s like to be a whole