Then, out of nowhere, my head snaps back around to look at Miles. “Where is Brooke anyway?” Maybe I’m blind, but I don’t see her around, nor do Ihearher being here. She’s always giggling or making some noises to make her presence known.
I love her little giggles, they’re so pure and pain-free.
Why do humans grow up and their laughter’s automatically no longer honest? Why do we have to suffer when nobody even asked us to be on earth anyway?
And why the hell am I becoming a philosopher?
“She’s with Emory so I can be here and help our friends take care of your drunk ass,” Miles answers.
Hm. Checks out.
“Do you miss Izan?” I slurp on my words, feeling my head pounding a little.
Grey shakes his head at me, I think? Could be the room spinning, too.
“I’ll take it from here,” my sister says, coming up behind me as Grey and I reach the stairs.
“You sure? He’ll be a pain in the ass to get upstairs.”
“Why am I going upstairs?” I ask, almost falling into my sister’s arms.
“Because it’s late and you should go to sleep,” Grey tells me. But he is lying because it is still light outside. Not daylight-light but enough to see the streets still, and the trees and sky and everything.
Whatever, right? Maybe catching some sleep will do me good. Though, probably not because the second I close my eyes, all I see is Sofia. She is everywhere, haunting me.
Lily leads me into my bedroom, right over to my bed so I can fall down on it with a huff.
So now I lie here, my legs dangling down the side of my bed while I stare at my blurry ceiling with stupid salty tears just casually leaving my eyes like I gave it permission to do so.
The mattress slightly dips next to me as Lily takes a seat. “It’s only seven more weeks until graduation,” she says, taking my hand in hers.
“Seven too many.”
What does it change if I fly to Germany and get my Sofia back now or in eight weeks? Alright, seven, now that one has passed already. What does Sofia need eight weeks for? Talking to her father shouldn’t take this long.
Right—she didn’t even give me a specific time period in which she’d be back, or I could come visit her. I made that time up because when she said she’d leave, in my head, I knew I’d be coming for her the second I’m free to leave the U.S., no longer bound to school.
“You’re whinier than I was when I wanted to kill myself.”
I laugh, once. One little “Ha”, like what she said was the unfunniest of funniest things I have ever heard. And maybe it is. She may joke about her depression, but to anyone that loves her, it’s more like a mini heart attack every single time she jokes about it.
“Because you have room to talk,” I mutter under my breath. “Your boyfriend didn’t run away from you.”
“Sofia didn’t run away from you either, Ron. She is trying to fix her life and become someone you can love without her making it unnecessarily difficult.”
“But I already love her,” I groan. “I love her, Lily.” I sit up a little too fast, my head spinning like crazy, but I don’t care enough to lie back down. I look at Lily, my lungs fighting for air when all I take are shallow breaths. My voice small and quiet when I repeat, “I love her…”
“I know you do.” She rests our hands on her lap, her eyes staying on the ribbon around my wrist. “That Sofia’s?”
I look down, blinking a couple of times to make my eyes focus on the wisteria fabric. “She loves this stupid ribbon.” I groan in pain. Not physical pain, the shit that’s invading my heart. “Why do I feel like this, Lils?”
“Because you drank a little too much and your girlfriend is kind of an ocean away.”
Like I didn’t know that. Can’t she just gaslight me into believing I’m alright? “Thanks for making all this more depressing.”
“Aaron, you will be all right. You’ll stay sad for a while but it’s going to be forgotten the moment you see her again.”
“I’d rather be angry.” Anger seems less painful. I could be mad that Sofia just left me, and I have no idea if she’s ever coming back. Sure, she said it wasn’t a goodbye, but that still doesn’t guarantee me she will be backhere.