I ran into HIS arms.
I don’t even know why, it was like some primal reflex. A reaction that had been rehearsed so many times before it was now encoded into my DNA; part of my very being.
I was hugging him. I didn’t care that I had just been arrested, I didn’t care that I looked like crap and smelt like sick, I didn’t even care that he had broken my heart. I felt his warmth and smelt his familiar aroma and I felt safe. I felt normal.
“Come on Stormy…can’t be that bad can it – bet you looked cute on the mug shot” he said
I pulled away from him, how could he be nice to me. Doesn’t he realise that it’s probably the worst thing he could do right now.
My reaction had said it all. He looked nervously away, and then gestured for me to follow him to the car.
We drove in silence. Staring at the landscape and listening as the rattling of the rain merged in with muzzy radio sport reports; two parts that had once made a whole . Now like strangers who could think of no words to fill the void.
We pulled outside the twins’ flat but something wouldn’t let me get out of the car. My hand awkwardly fumbled with the seat belt a few times- but I kept resisting and instead just sat there staring out the rain fogged window, listening to him breathe besides me.
He must have sensed my reluctance, I mean of course he did. No one in the world understood me as well as he did. Not even me sometimes.
“Look why don’t you come back to the old place for a bit, you don’t have to talk to me. Promise. You still have a box of things there anyway and you can just chill out and have a shower away from the gruesome twosome in there….you know they’ll be like a dog with bone when they see you in this state.”
I remained silent, trying to will my eyes not to produce a flood of tears.
It killed me to not be with him, to have him sat within touching distance of him and yet not be able to actually touch him. To not be able to kiss him or ruffle his hair. To not attempt to change over the sport station and have him sigh dramatically as we listen to Classical FM. To not be able to tell him about my day. To not be able to share our little inside jokes. To not be able to elbow him when he playfully calls me Stormy when I cry. To not be able to tell him how much I completely adore him.
Yet it somehow seemed worse to leave the car and then be in my room. I had always ran to him when I was hurt and upset, so despite him being the cause at this point he seemed like a sort of solution to. Anything to avoid feeling so unbearably lonely.
My seat belt remained untouched and after a few moments he started the engine to drive to the home that we had once shared.