You're Gone

I think I liked the idea of a party more than I actually liked the party.

I felt terribly awkward, even though most of the guys were trying their hardest to make me feel quite the opposite. But there were a bunch of people there I had know from my past; a lot of them people I knew because I did drugs with them. So it took me a while (and two Xanax) to feel a bit more at ease.

Once I was feeling a bit less anxiety ridden I strolled into the kitchen where I filled a red plastic cup up with coke. I stared at the counter full of alcohol for a while. It was almost like it was tempting me, screaming my name, begging me to let it burn my throat. But instead I just pressed the cup to my lips and shuffled back into the living room where I leaned up against a wall and surveyed the area.

"I thought yeh were sober?"

The fact that I could feel his breath against my neck as he spoke made my hair stand on edge and my skin break out in goose bumps. I pulled down my hair from the bun I had thrown it into before and tried to hide behind it as I turned around and glanced at him anxiously.

"I am," I reassured him, albeit my voice being a bit shaky.

"What're yeh drinkin' then?" He asked, peering into my cup as if he could magically know what was inside just by a quick glance.

"Coke," I stated. He narrowed his eyes at me and I could almost read his mind as he continued to stare at me. It was hard to talk with each other and not immediately think of the past. A word as simple as coke, even when used to describe a carbonated beverage instantly brought us both back to that apartment. I could feel the drug in my nose and I was almost positive he felt the same.

"That's it?" He inquired, his eyebrow raised. I could tell he didn't believe me, and I guess I didn't really blame him. I had been so heavily addicted to drugs that it must've been hard for him to picture me any other way than strung out. I had always thought myself to be more addicted than he was, although that probably was never the case. Oliver just always seemed so much stronger than I, like he could quit at any minute.

"I told yeh I 'aven't 'ad a drink or any ofther...substance in two years," I said, trying my best to stand tall. Truth was, I was horribly intimidated by him, even if that wasn't his intention. I guess I just never thought I was good enough for him. Even when we were "together", I always had a habit of second guessing myself.

"Yeh take pills though," he pointed out, taking a sip from his own cup. I briefly wondered what he would do or say if I asked him what was in his cup.

"'s fer medical reasons. I take 'em properly," I whispered, my eyes darting around the room awkwardly. Suddenly, he grabbed the cup out of my hand and took a short sip from him before shoving it back into my hands. A smile spread across his lips when he swallowed the liquid.

"Yeh really 're sober, aren't yeh?" His half smile filled his face. I nodded meekly. "An' yeh're jus' takin' those pills?"

I nodded again, nervously sipping my drink. "They're fer anxiety. I take pills fer depression too," I admitted a bit apprehensively. "'ow 'bout yeh?" I cleared my throat before he got a chance to respond. "'re yeh...sober?"

"Partly, I suppose," he shrugged. "I still drink but I 'aven't touched any drugs in a while now."
I gave him a small smile and let my eyes wander towards everyone else for a second. From the other side of the room Dylan was eyeing me down. And when she saw me looking back at her she waved me over.

"Jus' a sec," I excused myself.

"What're yeh doin'?" She asked once I had stopped in front of her. Not surprisingly Lee was standing next to her. I didn't feel awkward though. He was generally quiet, and I knew he could keep a secret. Dylan and Lee were sort of interchangeable when I really thought about it.

"Talkin' ta Oliver..." I mumbled, suddenly feeling like I was being scolded by my mother.

"'bout?"

"Bein' sober."

Her eyes widened slightly at this, like she hadn't expected me to say such a thing. And in reality, I'm sure she hadn't.

"Really?" She asked at the same time Lee blurted out, "'e went ta visit yeh."

"What?" I virtually shrieked, my eyes wide. Dylan glared at her boyfriend and Lee looked awfully guilty as he stood there shifting his weight from leg to leg.

"Did yeh know 'bout this?" I asked Dylan. She was the one to look guilty now.

"Sorta," she admitted as she chewed on her lip.

"What do yeh mean sorta?" I hissed.

"We all knew yeh were in rehab," Lee chimed in. "It was sorta obvious. But Dylan wouldn't tell us where exactly yeh were. We all thought yeh were in a different country or somefhing to be honest..." he trailed off, ruffling the back of his hair. "But one day Oli was over, it was pretty soon after yeh left. We fell asleep on the couch watchin' a movie an' when we woke up we saw 'e had gone through Dylan's room an' found tha papers for yeh enrollment and stuff."

"Lee never told me 'e went," Dylan added. "But I 'ad a pretty good assumption, yeh know?"

"'e told me 'e jus' went an' when they wouldn't let 'm in 'e jus' stayed for a few days before comin' 'ome," Lee added.

"I'm sorreh I never told yeh Tristan," Dylan apologized, grabbing my hands and holding them in her own. "I knew it wasn't somefhing yeh needed ta hear when yeh away," she pouted slightly, her green eyes wide. "Or yeh know, now," she said glared at Lee.

"It jus' slipped out," he shrugged, looking rather guilty.

I didn't say anything; instead I just looked over to Oliver who was still standing where I had left him. Amanda wasn't with him and I wondered why. I wondered where she is and why she wasn't at the party. I wondered if she had heard us fighting in the hallway a few nights before. I wondered if she knew Oliver had come to see me in Bournemouth. I wondered if they had fought. I wondered if it was all my fault. And I wondered if he was mad at me for any problems I had caused in their relationship.

"I jus'....I need ta leave," I muttered abruptly, placing my cup on the coffee table next to where Dylan and Lee were standing. I spun around quickly and knocked into a few people, mumbling a quick apology before slipping past them a bit more gracefully this time.

"Tristan!" Dylan called after me.

I didn't answer. I knew she wouldn't follow. Even though I knew she worried about me, I also knew she trusted that I wouldn't do anything stupid. And she knew that after hearing all of that being dropped on me I just needed some time alone.

Honestly, I don't know how I ended up there. I wasn't even sure if it was still there. I wasn't sure if people had taken over occupancy or if the place had burned down. But the apartment building was still very much there when I strolled passed it. I stared at it for a long while, the memory of the last time I was there flashing through my brain at what seemed to me a hundred miles an hour. It made me dizzy, so I took a seat on the bench perched across the street from it.

"I kinda felt like yeh'd be 'ere. Don't ask me why though."

The goose bumps reappeared on my skin as I heard his voice.

"Why did yeh follow me?" I asked him tonelessly. I knew he hadn't just taken a wild guess as to where I was. He wasn't that smart.

"Yeh looked upset," he sighed, taking a seat at the other end of the bench. He leaned his elbows against his knees, and began rubbing his hands together nervously as he glanced up at the looming building. "Lots o' memories, eh?" He glanced over at me shortly.

I just nodded, the all too familiar feeling of my throat closing catching me off guard.

"Do yeh eva fhink about it?" He whispered. "Like, wha' would 'ave 'appened if yeh 'ad 'im?"

My eyes snapped closed and my hand instantaneously flew to my stomach. I could feel the tears swell in my eyes but I swallowed hard and tried to push the feeling away. My heart clenched agonizingly and I squeezed my eyes shut a bit more tightly as he continued.

"Do yeh fhink 'e'd look like meh? Or if it were a girl? Do yeh fhink she'd look like yeh?" He wondered out loud. He was looking at the building again, a faraway look in his eyes as he daydreamed. My eyes were wide open now as I stared at him. "Whatever it turned out to be they'd probably be pretteh bloody embarrassed by meh, yeah? I mean, 've got a dick tattooed on meh," he laughed. He continued to laugh as he rambled on. "Probably woulda been talkin' by now. Fhink of all the 'orrible things tha guys woulda taught 'im ta say," he laughed, his body shaking as he hunched over. "Woulda been callin' me Dada." He shook. "An' yeh mum." He shook. "Oh my God." He shook. "Yeh were bleedin' so fuckin' much."

He was crying. He laughed until he cried, although not in that good happy way we all thought of. And all I could do was still there, wide eyed, as he was hunched over crying his bloody eyes out. My mind automatically threw me back to the night at the hospital where he started to cry and I so badly wanted to touch him but knew it wasn't my place anymore. The feeling so was fucking familiar as I sat there, my mind failing me as I thought about how to react.

"Why?" He choked out as his body shook with his sobs.

"Do yeh wan' me ta call Amanda?" I asked meekly as I scooted towards him slightly. I did this until our legs were touching, my skin softly burning from the sudden heat radiating against my leg. "She could come pick yeh up," I went on, mumbling. "Bring yeh 'ome."

He grabbed my arm suddenly, bringing my attention straight into his honey eyes, now bloodshot and tearstained. My heart clenched again as I looked at him, my eyebrows knitting together as my face contorted into one of the utmost grief. I felt so overwhelmed. I didn't know how to react to his sudden display of emotions. As much as I had hoped for a moment like this, a moment where all the bullshit fell down and we could just be alone, it made me feel awkward. I had never expected Oliver to go from cursing me back to Bournemouth to crying next to me on a park bench in such a short amount of time. It was all so sudden and I just hadn't prepared myself for this.

"Jus' stay," he begged me. I momentarily got lost in his eyes, feeling so comfortable there despite the horrible circumstances. Another loud sob from him brought me back to reality and I shook myself from his grasp as I scrambled to my feet.

"I'll go find, uh, Dylan. She can call yeh girlfriend," I rambled on. "I'll jus'....I'll go."

"Again?" He croaked painfully. "Yeh're always leavin'," he sniffled, wiping the tears off of his cheeks.

"I jus'...I can't. I jus' can't do this righ' now," I answered him lamely. Fire flashed in his eyes for a second as he pushed himself up so he was standing. He easily towered over me when he stood, and his intimidation factor rose significantly as I glanced up at him.

"When will be a good time fer yeh then, Tris?" He asked, the use of my nickname making my heart thump widly against my ribcage. "I hate ta break it ta yeh, but talkin' 'bout losing our fuckin' babeh isn't ever gonna be fuckin' easy, okay? Wha' if I wanna talk about it, huh? Wha' if I finally wanna fuckin' talk ta someone about this shit?"

"Can yeh not yell?" I asked him, my voice small.

"I wouldn't be fuckin' yellin' at yeh if yeh would jus' talk ta me!" He exclaimed, thrashing his arms around widly at me.

"I wanted ta talk about it righ' after it 'appened! Before yeh started accusin' me of everyfhin' bein' my fault! Before yeh jus' fuckin' left," I yelled back, finally finding my voice.

"It was yehr fault. Still is," he glowered at me.

I immediately recoiled and the tears that had remained whelled up in my eyes all that time suddenly started to spill over. Oliver had never actually flat out told me everything was my fault. He had hinted around it, and he had even given me looks that said a whole bloody lot, but actually hearing those words leave his lips broke my fucking heart in more way than one.

"'ow could yeh say that?" I asked, the tears dripping down my chin and onto the street. "'ow could yeh fuckin' say that?!" I yelled, raising my voice again.

"Because 's true!" He growled, taking another step closer to me. I took another giant step back and pointed my finger in his face.

"Don't yeh come any closer ta me," I sneered. "Yeh're a fuckin' terrible person, did yeh know that?" I asked. Suddenly, he shrunk back down to his normal height and looked at me curiously. "'cause yeh realleh fuckin' 're. Yeh 'ave no fuckin' right ta treat me like such proper shit."

"Tris, I-"

"Don't!" I snapped. "Honestly, I don't even know why I was so fuckin' stupid. Maybe I did come back 'ere wiff a little bit of hope that yeh'd wanna talk wiff me, or pfft- be wiff me, but now I realize wha' a bloody idiot I was to fhink tha'," I stared down at the pavement and shook my head, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket. I flickered my eyes back up towards him until they locked with his honey ones. "Don't follow meh," I muttered before turning my back towards him and walking away.

I cried as I walked home, small choking sobs coming and going as I placed one foot in front of the other. Sticking up for myself felt like sort of a relief, until I realized I had grown a backbone about two years too late.