runnindownsunset

[runnindownsunset]

heaven out of hell.

The sun is shyly trying to make an appearance at your curtains, too scared that it might be left out again after so many days of darkness. Some rays already are entering the room through a small gap in the fabric, making their way to reveal the dark scenario it's inside. You are all curled up on the bathroom floor, knees tied up to your chest and you are slowly rocking back and forth trying to calm your sickness down. You sigh, feeling that sharp pain at the pit of your stomach which is telling you are far from being okay. Your hands are gripping your legs so hard that you can feel your nails digging into it and leaving bloody marks on your pale skin. He would have said that you are too pale to even look alive and you would have given back that he should be the last to speak of that. You gulp at the idea of him talking to you, which has not been happening for the past 8 months, and which is now leading you to a spiral downward knowing that he got better, healthier and is somehow engaged to some sort of goddess, fact that won't let a chat between the two of you happen ever again. You lean against the wall behind you, the cold tiles reliving some of the pain in your back, supporting you as you feel that you might just lose it again. Your pulse is slower, you can feel your senses slow drift but your mind is well awake and it keeps showing you the moments before his last dance through your apartment door.

Are you serious?”

“Do you think I'm not? Is there any evidence in my eyes that tells you I am not serious?” you are crying your heart out as you just spelled the words.

“It's just I cannot believe you're doing me this.”

“What? What am I doing to you? Can't we just stop and take a moment to see what you're doing to me?”

“Who's the one bringing our relationship to an end?”

“Me because of you! Can't you see how broken you are?” 

“You should be and stay here to help me, not letting me down!”

“The only way I can help you is leaving you! Because if I don't you won't ever see how much help you actually need. It's not about got, it's about you.”

“Fine, then I'll go. But I won't be  you anymore once I'll get better.” 

“You're not getting the point of this, Colson. You think I just want to let you down or go which is the very last thing I'd do right now but I love you so much and I have to think about your health first.”

“Apparently I am too high on something to get that, it must have been hard for you to bear with it for all these years.”

“You want the truth? Yes, it has been, because you'll never know what it feels like to love someone so much and watch them slowly destroy themselves this way.”

At this point you're hurting so much that you think you might get a heart attack just by looking at his face. He's sweating from nervousness peaking up on him, hands shaking as he frantically picks up the few clothes being at your flat.

“I thought you were here to help me also get through this.”

“I am but it has become too much and I am slowly drifting in your same direction and it's not taking us anywhere good. Can't you really see it?”

“And what if I get better and I won't want you anymore?” words are stuck in your throat as you try to speak. His rage starts to build up and his stare, softer before, is becoming like a knife pointing at your stomach.

“Well, I guess I'll have to bear with it..”

"Yes, you'll have to because I am telling you that I won't ever need you anymore.” he pronounced those words right into your face, at just 1 inch from your mouth, his cologne filling your lungs as his wild eyes pierced right through yours with anger and disappointment.

It's funny how we are so good at keeping the most painful memories with us: you still remember your last I love you whispered at the sight of him forever walking out of your life, never heard and never taken but you cannot remember the last time he hugged or kissed you. You don't think you've ever deserved it, after all, and the memory of that it's now too unbearable to be even reminisced. He's always been way too much to even be real, and not necessarily in all the positive ways. You wanted him so bad, you really loved him of a one-of-a-kind love and because of that you had to let him go to make him focus on himself, his health and his path to an addiction-free life. You are happy he made it after all - even though without you. Even though you're now throwing up for the fourth time in a single day wishing that you could just go back in time and hold him one last time telling one more I love you before it was too late.

You jump on the floor at the loud knock on your door. Your cheek is placed on the bathroom floor, still wet from the tears of your previous panic attack. The knocks get louder and even more frequent but you cannot, in any way, find any strength to stand up and walk to the door even though you're trying your best to recollect a bit of decency and at least try to properly breathe. As you do that you can hear it getting slammed on the wall, a vase of flowers breaking into pieces as frantic footsteps wander in your apartment. You keep your eyes shut as voices start to mix up, your head is spinning becauseit's not making any sense and when you’re about to faint again you hear someone, many someones in fact, screaming your name and just one really hits you hard. He keeps calling you and you have no strength left to answer, to tell him that you are there, that he just needs to go a step forward. His footsteps are going everywhere in your apartment but there where you're laying, tears now almost choking you as you keep hearing him looking for you. Your gasps seem to be loud enough for him to be heard and there he is. 

“She's here! Oh my God!” his voice cracks up as soon as he speaks and he immediately runs to you.

"Colson..” it's just a whisper but he hears it very well. He leans over you, moving your hair behind your ear to let you hear him good enough say “I'm here”.

The light is warm and so it's the blanket covering both of you, your head resting on the pillow as you slowly try to recollect enough strength to stay awake and talk to him. He's just two inches away from your body, paying attention not to touch you but not even letting one inch more widening the gap, resting his hands on his lap, his elbow shyly approaching yours. His breath is steady and slow and you try to use it as a pacer for your own which is still frantic from before. You are still thinking it might be a dream and that he could disappear anytime soon and you would very much use this time to wrap yourself around him and tell him anything you need to say, before a break into your rem phase occurs and ruins it all. 

“I was scared. Like not just scared but fucking scared. Why the hell did you not answer all the day long? To your mother, brother, sister, friends. I was.. I mean.. I thought.. ugh.” 

You did not expect so many words coming from him so you just need a moment to recollect the memories of the past 36 hours. 

“Uhm.. I don't know, I wasn't feeling very well.” he sighs and sits straight on the bed, his back facing you as he takes his head in his hands, not really knowing how to handle the rage building inside.

“Then why the fuck didn't you tell anybody? Do you know how hell worried I was? You always think that nobody cares and it's not such a big deal but it fucking is.” 

“We haven't been talking for months now so I didn't think it could be of such interest for you to know I wasn't okay. And I think it's pretty clear that I'm not.”

“If I'm not talking to you it doesn't mean I don't care.”

“How the hell could I know that, Colson? Sorry but I do not get your point.” 

“Then you think you could just disappear and I would be fine with that?” he's spitting these words out as if they were the worst joke ever heard. You also sit up to look into his eyes and you mentally curse yourself because now you're lost. They are so bright and yet now so dark, hurt and disappointed. You remember that look on his face the same day he had enough of you and you just can't take it.

“Yes” you whisper it as you try to stop the tears from falling. You still feel the salty traces on your cheeks from the previous panic attacks and in this very moment you realize how much of a mess you must be now. 

“You're crazy.”

“Then why are you even here? Why were you looking for me? Why did you have to find me passed out on the bathroom floor just to tell me I'm crazy?!” 

“I didn't mean to be here for this. - he gulps as he says that and immediately stares at his hands, fingers playing wildly as he tries to find the right words, suddenly too nervous to look at you but too excited to stay calm - I was.. I mean.. I wanted to ask you if we could talk. I texted you but I got no reply. I thought it was fair and okay at first so I tried to call you but, again, no answer. Once, twice, thee, ten, twenty times so something should have surely happened. I called your family, best friend, colleagues, no one could fucking reach you so I did one last thing. - his voice cracks at this point - I would have done any-fucking-thing to find you. Even if for one last time.” and there it goes, the total breakdown, the ace to the longest tennis match, the real knockout: him bursting out crying right in front of you. He's never been one into tears, you could count the times on the fingers of one hand and all of them were joyful and enriched with largely positive emotions. But these ones are different and you don't really know how to handle them. 

“Why?” you whisper, once again, as if the room was full of people overhearing the most precious conversation. He just wipes his face with the back of his hand covered with one of those sweatshirts you stole so many times. It hurts seeing it, thinking he might have just taken it back from his new girlfriend’s closet, now filled with his cologne. He sighs and looks at you with the most dangerously warm, dense stare. 

“You were right. Getting on this path was very much needed: I regained health, focus, passion, reason but most of all myself. I can now sense my feelings, almost touch them and I've got to give a name to many of them. But there's one which has been missing to finally finish the puzzle and it was because I didn't have the matching part with me.”  

“Which?” he stares at you, eyes firing up as his iris find their way to open yours and run down the stairs which directly lead to the centre of your hidden universe. Your heart is pounding so loud that you fear he might hear it and run away knowing that you still love him so much and that did not learn the lesson. He left you once and he might just do it one more time, not bearing the thought of you being so into something that you should have long forgotten. But his hand is now burning against your cheek while the other easily finds its way to your waist, bringing you impossibly close to him as if you were the one about to run away. Your chest is now against his, sculpted and yet so soft and warm, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers interlocked to his hair. 

“You.” 

“What?” 

“It's you I was missing.” and with that you're kissing, in an expression of pure poetism you are tasting the bittersweet feeling of love that it takes so much from you only to reconvert it into something more powerful that is given back with such force to which you can only surrender. His lips are so eager to be on yours, him tasting better than ever as you pull him closer, not knowing if this will last and wanting any inch of him being impressed on you as the cage that's now covering the paintings on his body. His heart is wild but so is loving him, the craziest rollercoaster you've ever been on, the most difficult hike ever invented yet so easy to climb on because he's just there.

“Then.. I mean I heard you had a new one.” 

“New what?” 

“Girlfriend, stupid.” he looks at you, hands still wandering on your back. Ugh.

“Yeah.. I might have” you try to push him away “if you agree to be with me.” you sigh so loud. 

“Oh my gosh I hate you!” his laugh fills the hair as he starts tickling you so hard that you're completely out of breath. Now for a good reason, at least.