Work Text:
I sat outside, cigarette in-between my fingers; the embers lighting my face up better than the streetlights.
It was a cold spring night, I was waiting for the bus, I wanted - no, needed - to go home.
Everything was scary, terrifying. The thought of you was making me nauseous.
I thought about if you would come back to me, if you'd still love me,
If you even remembered my name, or if I was still yours.
You never really broke up with me when you left.
The bus arrived, I put out my cigarette; and got on. I paid for my ticket, put my headphones on; and listened to some music.
I wasn't paying attention to the words anymore, or where I was. I missed my stop, ended up near the beach.
I got off, and walked down the steps; onto the sand.
I saw you. Your black hair, your leather jacket.
My heart stopped, tears in my eyes; my milligram.
I looked away like you were a celestial being I was not worthy to look in the eyes of.
"Pois."
You called out, and I came closer.
That scent that used to make me feel safe made me nervous, like I was encroaching on someone else's property; and I was not supposed to be there.
"...Milligram."
I responded, my voice shaking - I felt ashamed that it was shaking.
I could feel your anger, your sadness.
"Why? Why-"
My eyes found their way to your eyes.
"..I didn't want to say those things. I didn't want to have a psychotic episode which lead me to hurt you."
I said, feeling tears build up in my eyes.
You swallowed hard. I braced for impact.
"..I wish I never confessed to you."
I said, blinking.
Then you were gone.
Because you were never coming back; not even for an explanation.
Not even for an apology, that you owed me.
I was left to pick up the pieces and cope with how you broke me.