Just Hate Me and We'll End It Here

Bailey

That following morning, I finally woke up around noon, though it felt like I’d hardly slept at all. Lying in bed, I stayed for the longest time, recalling last night’s events, amazed at everything that had occurred.

Eventually, though, I made my way down the steps into the kitchen. No one was there, but the coffee had been started. So I sat up on the counter, leaning against the cupboards, and ate some cereal, waiting.

Alex trailed down and almost hesitates in his step, seeing me. “Good morning,” he finally offers and grabs some mugs.

“Morning,” I manage to murmur, keeping my head ducked, embarrassed at my actions before.

But that doesn’t bother him as he walks right over, lifting my chin to make me look at him. “You’re beautiful,” he says in a firm voice. “I don’t hate you. I love you. It’s okay, remember?” Then he kisses me on my lips.

I watch him for a moment, and finally say something. “Thank you, for everything, Alex.”

He gives me a smile and a wink, passing me a mug of delicious coffee, and somehow I know things are going to be all right. At least for now, anyways.

But as the days pass on, it still makes me nervous. Every night I wonder if I could ever tell him the truth. About me, my life, my past- everything. But that keeps me up hours every night, shuddering in fear, grasping a pillow like it’s my lifeline.

Nothing can keep me safe.

If I tell… the problem only grows.

And every morning, it’s the same. I get my cereal, Alex gets the coffee, cereal, and paper. He gives me a kiss and in silence, I wonder if I should tell him or not, but I always chicken out. It’s constantly on my mind lately.

So it’s almost a good thing I don’t have any jobs, because I would never be able to concentrate. I do try to find several jobs, of course, hunting for them every day. But no one seems to want to hire me. Alex says I’ll be selling their merch, which will give me a little, and the fact that I live with him means I don’t really need to pay for anything or have a job, but… well, I want to, you know?

So I’m usually just hanging around, playing with Georgie and trying to teach him to bring me stuff [brought me my slippers the other day, but ate the candy bar I tried to make him bring me]. That is, when Alex isn’t dragging me around to a concert or two, or to Hollywood to work on their music.

And I visit Missy, plus Gabriela and Brittany come by a few times so we hang out a little. They like fiddling with my hair, but otherwise they’re pretty cool people.

And it’s Missy who I can talk to about anything. Though she’s a bit blonde and silly, she stands up for her friends and won’t be pushed around. She’s the only one who really knows everything, and always seems to know what I’m thinking, and best of all- she always knows how to fix things.

Which is why I go to her, the morning we’re supposed to leave for Warped Tour.

“Hey,” Missy raises an eyebrow as I stomp through. “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving about now?”

I take a deep shuddering breath and shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Missy, I can’t go with them.”

“What?” She wrinkles her nose at walks over from the kitchen. “Hon, what do you mean? It’s been planned out and everything. I helped you shop and pack all last week. Oh no, did you throw it all around your room?” She demands.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “No, no. It’s just…” I shrug and rub my nose with shaking hands. “I- I just… I can’t do this. I thought I could, and I can’t.”

“Hey, hey, speak English,” Missy says. “Okay, let’s sit down, and tell me what’s wrong.”

Swallowing hard, I sit down and take a deep breath. “Okay, so I told you about my ridiculous breakdown a while ago, remember?”

Missy groans, squeezing my hands. “Bailey! You’re crazy. Of course you’re going. It wasn’t a ridiculous breakdown, remember? We talked about it. Now things are good between you and Alex, right?”

I think about it quickly. “Well, well, yeah… I mean, he’s sweet. He’s a good kisser. He cares and everything- but I can’t,” I say quickly. “I’ve already thought it out, Missy. He’ll leave on tour, cause I won’t go, and then he’ll get mad and he’ll hate me and I’ll just be fine and come back here,” I nod. “See?”

“Why?” Missy wrinkles her nose. “Things are good… oh, no. Bailey!” She raps her knuckles on my head. “Stop thinking like that! You’ll have that breakdown all over, girl.”

I laugh uneasily and stand up, starting to pace. “Of course not, Missy. Because I’m thinking sensibly right now, okay? I can’t tell him, Missy. And he wants me to. I just can’t do it.”

“You told me just fine,” she points out.

“You got me partially drunk, remember?” I give her a look.

“So I’ll bring Alex over and get you partially drunk again!” She throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Come on, Bailey! He loves you. Alex meant that, okay? I can tell, every time he looks at you. And I know you have feelings for them, even if they aren’t as strong yet.”

“Yet?” My eyes widen. “No. No, they’re going to shrink. Especially when he starts to hate me, remember?”

“That will hurt you,” she corrects me. “And he’s not going to hate you, either. Okay? You can’t just think if he hates you, it’ll make everything better. Because then that would switch it around.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’ll be like it is now. He loves you, you try to hate him. If you do that, though, he’ll be trying to hate you and you’ll realize you love him and can’t let go while he starts trying to push you away,” she smiles.

“You watch too many movies and read too much,” I snap at her.

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Only enough to know that Alex is going to be here any minute, and I know for a fact that your stuff is already packed in my car, and he’ll be able to convince you to go.”

I shake my head furiously. “Of course not. He has no idea where I am. And it’s only packed in your car cause you made me do it yesterday, Marissuh Jean Walker.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Ew, ew, and ew, don’t call me that, miss bipolar. And I know, because you’re late. He’s gonna run by your house, find you not there, and then the next place he would look is here, which is where you really are. So he’ll be here soon.”

“No he won’t,” I mutter stubbornly and crossing my arms, I sit on the couch, glaring at the blank TV. “He better not.”