Chapter Four.

“By the way your hands were shaking, I’d rather waste my time with you.”
-The Used

The morning came slower than I had hoped and it seemed as if I laid awake in bed forever. I focused my eyes on the clock. It was 10:36. I had planned to be up by 10:30 but I was always too late. Of course, I had adapted to this feeling of lateness and learned to live with it. I repositioned myself, attempting to comfort all the discomfort inside my chest. The attempt was a failure. There was no way to avoid this feeling, but it was hardest to admit. I got up out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, with my eyes still red and cheeks still puffy. I was just as disgusting anytime of day, but it seemed to bother me most now.

A rush of warmth filled my cheeks and I wanted to scream. But instead I let out a yawn and turned away from the mirror. I rinsed off my cheeks with cool water, turned on the shower and took off my clothes. I preferred to let the mirror fog up before I took them off. I would do anything to avoid seeing myself, especially all of me. There was this terrible feeling it gave me and my appearance mattered more to me than it should have. There seemed to be no one that could make me feel beautiful.

But that was my loss. My loss and my error. I should’ve realized that I was the only one who could make myself happy, only I couldn’t because I was too shallow and naïve to see it. It’s sad. It really is. I love the world so much –everything has beauty. You’ve just got to look for it. It isn’t real if you don’t have to find it. Of course, there is always the obvious. A body filled with sleek curves and beautiful features. Is it truly beautiful? Or is it just a perception? I won’t get technical on you. All I’m trying to say is that… we are filled with thoughts of a stereotypical beauty. Well what about the rest of us? Are we not beautiful? I think we are. Now I do, anyway.

I got out of the shower. Much like the mirror, my mind was still foggy. It was twisted with images of last night. Visions of my future without the one I “loved”. There was still something inside me though, telling me to forget it and continue with my life. It was not a waste of my time. Oh, but my heart felt it was, believe me.

Not sure what to do with myself, I threw on anything I could find and left the house. I was walking faster than ever and with no destination. Or maybe, I knew where I was going all along.
When I reached his front door, I hesitated. I had no idea how I’d gotten there. And with a frightful knock on the door, a few seconds passed me by… and there he was. Comforting as ever and seemingly expecting of my company.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

I smiled back at him, “I had to take a shower.” This made him laugh. Which made me exceptionally happy.

Not many more words were exchanged between us. He knew what I needed from him, as my best friend. He knew I wouldn’t be up to talking… But what he really knew was that I was uneasy. He knew it wasn’t love. I knew it wasn’t love. I just couldn’t admit that to myself. Not so soon after the shock. After a few hours with Julian, I’d be quite all right.

The daylight fell to darkness and I could feel myself aching again. One day. Only one day had passed but it seemed like a lifetime ago. The pain was still too much to bear.

“I think I should get going,” I said, jumping up suddenly.

Julian seemed confused by my sudden urge to leave, but responded anyway, “Alright. Are you gonna be okay Lib?”

It took me longer than it probably should have to answer this question. I looked at him. I looked through him. And then, I looked into his gray eyes. They seemed different. As if they were saying something. But what they were saying, I couldn’t decipher. “I’ll have to be,” and with that foolish answer, I pressed myself close to him. He did something I never thought he would.

His lips were warm against mine. What now? I pulled away and looked at him. With my hand on his cheek, his golden blonde hair and soft skin seemed so right. Or was this my way of forgetting? Remember to forget, Libby... Forget to remember.
He took my hand from his cheek and I held it tight.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was…”

“Julian, it’s okay. It’s okay. I love you.” But he knew I didn’t mean it the way I wanted him to. I knew I never could. I wasn’t sure what to do. I loved him, he was my best friend. He was everything. He was Julian. The world wasn’t right without him. Or my world wasn’t, anyway.

“Yeah. I love you too. Um… so I guess you gotta get going?” I know he was asking me; he wouldn’t kick me out of his house. Although in a way, I felt that it was more of a statement. It was awkward, I will admit. Somehow, I still felt that the moment was freeing. Freeing of my problems, of my emotions, of my lost “love”.

“Right. I will. I do. Yeah, I do…” I kissed him back. He deserved it. He wanted it. I wanted it. And now, I know I did. It was still too soon though: too soon for kisses, too soon for more emotions, too soon for more confusion.

He let go of my hand and that was it. Our moment was gone –but not for forever. We would have another one, if we were meant to, in time. “You didn’t have to –I mean I know… you…” He knew I shouldn’t have kissed him back. He also knew I wanted to. Julian knew everything.