You're Gone

My memory was pretty shit. Drugs did that to you, though.

But there were certain things I would never forget; the night in the hospital, the first time Oliver told me he loved me, the day I met him, most of my rehab experience. I remembered important things, I guess. Which is why I had a strong sense of de ja vu when I woke up to the sounds of Oliver's soft snores over the phone. Oliver had a small tendency to snore when he slept, never too loud, but if I had a night of light sleeping it used to wake up in the middle of the night. I remembered the memory fondly, even though it had woken me out of a rather pleasant sleep.

Instead of hanging up like I probably should have, I resorted to something a little different, "Oli," I called to him, moving my mouth close to the phone that was still lying next to me. When he didn't answer I yelled a little louder, "Oliver!"

His snores stopped suddenly and he made sort of a gasping sound before I heard a loud clank. I smiled softly at the thought of him jumping up and the phone more than likely falling to the ground, explaining the clanking sound. I heard a bit more rustling and then a loud yawn before he finally spoke, "Why'd yeh 'ave ta do tha'?" He croaked. "I was havin' a pretteh good dream."

"Yeh were snorin'," I told him.

"Was not," he grunted.

"I fhink yeh were. Yeh woke me up," I couldn't help but laugh lightly.

"Tha's cause yeh're a light sleeper, 's not my fault," he said, but I knew he was smiling.

I chose not to focus on how weird everything was and just savor it while it lasted. Because I knew it wouldn't last. Our conversation was still so easy and even though he was blocks away, if I closed my eyes he could have been lying right next to me. I heard the mumbling before I heard him say anything else. I knew it was over and I knew we had been caught and my heart should have been pounding against my chest but all I could do was sigh.

"I went ta get a glass of water an' I could barely make it back to tha room so I jus' sat on tha couch fer a few minutes," he said. Some more mumbling came from Amanda before he spoke again. "I must've passed ou'." More mumbling. "I pocket dialed Tom," he explained. "Yeah, I'll be there in a sec."

I guess everything just sort of slapped me in the face then.

Oliver wasn't mine anymore. He had a girlfriend. They lived together. Fuck, they even had a dog together. I was nothing to him. I was his ex-girlfriend. The girl who lost his first and only child because she was addicted to drugs. I was the girl who came back into his life two years later and fucked everything up for him. I wasn't his. And he wasn't mine. I wanted to cry when I thought about how horrible I was for kissing Oliver and how Amanda would feel if she ever found out. I was such a terrible fucking person.

"Tris?" His voice was soft again. He was whispering so Amanda wouldn't hear. I was becoming that girl. "Tris?" He repeated when I didn't answer him.

"Yeah?" I finally snapped out of my self-loathing daze.

"I've gotta go...." his voice was soft, full of an emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Yeah," I said again, nodding softly.

"'m sorreh," he mumbled. "Maybeh I could call yeh la-"

I hung up on him before he could finish his sentence because I didn't want to hear it. Because even if he did call me later it wouldn't change anything. He would still be Amanda's and I would still be alone. It was simple. And it got me thinking- maybe this all happened for a reason. Maybe we were never meant to be together and all of the shit that happened to Oliver and I was only meant to happen so he could meet Amanda. And as much as I had enjoyed his call, and as much as it made my heart flutter, I hated it. I hated it because it was only a reminder of what I couldn't have anymore.

But then it got me wondering...why had I even come back to Sheffield then? I mean, obviously my friends were here but Dylan had come to see me quite often while I was in Bournemouth, so it wasn't like I had missed her all too much. The truth of the matter was, somewhere inside of me I thought coming back would get Oliver and I back together. It was a stupid thought, especially considering the last time we had seen each other before I left, but two years left me a lot of time to think. And I had thought a lot about coming home. And I had thought a lot about things going back to the way they were between us, minus the drugs of course. As much as I wanted to believe him and Amanda belonged together I never thought in a million years when I got back he would have a girlfriend. And for so long too. According to their anniversary it didn't take him all too long to get over me.

And that really fucking hurt.

It was hard to know the person you loved so desperately, the person who had broke your heart, had moved on so quickly. I guess I just expected him to be just as broken as I was. I guess I just assumed he would still be single when I got back two years later. I thought he'd still be hung up on me the same way I was hung up on him. But he wasn't. And that just made me feel pathetic. And I was so fucking sick of feeling that way. I was sick of crying and I was sick of feeling depressed. But being depressed wasn't like being sad. Being sad only lasted a few hours, maybe a day or two, depression could last years. Depression had the power to consume your entire life, and well, I guess I was just scared that that's what my entire life would feel like.

Somewhere in the midst of all of these thoughts I fell back into a restless sleep. When I finally woke up again there was sun shining through my windows and as much as I didn't want to force myself out of bed I did just that. I ate yogurt and granola for breakfast (even though it was around noon already) and then took one of the longest showers of my life. The hot water felt good against my skin and it loosened the muscles rather nicely.

I towel dried my hair and then wrapped another fluffy blue towel around my body tightly before walking to my room. My eyes danced around the room for a few minutes as I thought about what to wear before I just crawled back onto my bed. I curled into the fetal position, the towel still around me, and just stared at the wall. My breath was just beginning to even out when I heard it.

"Yeh should lock yeh door."

My eyes lazily wandered over to my bedroom door when Oliver stood. He was wearing his usually too skinny jeans, a pair of Toms, a jacket of his own Drop Dead line, and a grey beanie pulled over his growing curls. He looked tired, but adorable none the less. I had spent so many days and nights just staring at his face and I had grown to find he had almost zero flaws. He still made my heart skip beats.

"Didn't fhink anyone would be bofherin' meh," I mumbled, snuggling closer to my pillow.

"I'm bofherin' yeh?" He asked, his voice low. I could hear him take slow steps towards me and I swallowed hard to try and get my heart to stop beating so fast. It still amazed me that after all that had happened between us he still had that effect on me. I didn't answer him because as much as I didn't want to let him know he was right, I also didn't want him to leave. He didn't say anything else, instead he just softly kicked off his slip ons and crawled into bed next to me.

At first he just laid there, his hands at his sides as he stared at me. I avoided his eyes for the longest time, not wanting to melt into his honey orbs like I knew I would if I made eye contact. In fact, I didn't look at him until he touched me. His movements were slow, deliberate. I knew he had thought about them forever before he made them. I knew he meant it. First his hand found it's way to my hip. He held it there for sometime before it slid down and rested on the small of my back. I held my breath as he began to pull me towards him and it was only then I finally looked into his eyes.

"Don't say anyfhin'," he whispered, his breath fanning across my face.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be like this. I hate this. And I hated him for this. But at the same time, I wouldn't trade this moment for anything. I had so badly missed him and feeling like this and being close like this that I wasn't about to say anything to jeopardize it. I suddenly became hyper aware to the fact that I was wearing nothing more than a towel and then I became aware that it didn't seem to matter. There was nothing sexual about the way he was holding me or the way he was looking at me and it made a small smile tug at my lips.

"I 'aven't seen yeh smile in a while," he murmured, pushing a piece of my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.

"This is nice," I said softly. He cleared his throat nosily and pulled me closer, our bodies now pressed up against each other. I snuggled my head into his chest only to hear his heart thumping wildly against it.

"Don't judge meh," he laughed softly, the vibrations making my head buzz. "Yeh do tha' ta me, yeh know?" He cleared his throat again. "Ah fuck Tris, why can't fhings jus' be easy like this, yeh know? Why can't everyfhin' fix its self?"

"Did yeh tell Amanda?" I piped up. I don't know where the question came from, and I bit my lip as the words left my lips. I think I felt guilty.

"'bout?" He asked, playing dumb.

"'bout yeh kissin' me," I said. He looked down at me, his eyes in his usual wide stance. His eyes were huge, especially when he was thinking about something and it was always something I found incredibly attractive. He lowered his face down until it was level with mine and slowly began to move forward. My breath caught in my throat as I pulled my head back slightly, leaving him to look slightly bewildered. "Did yeh tell 'er?" I asked.

"No Tris," he sighed deeply. "But can't we just lay 'ere fer now? Not worry 'bout anyfhin'?" He asked me softly. "I jus'....I wanna pretend fhings are okay, jus' fer a few minutes. I go back ta my flat an' Amanda's always cryin' 'bout somefhin', I get around tha band an' they're all talkin' 'bout tour an' the album, I get around Dylan an' she's always givin' me proper mean stares," he chuckled lightly at the last part before taking in another deep breath. "Everyfhin's shit," he murmured ever so quietly, his eyes boring straight into my own. "I jus' want everyfhin' ta be okay fer a little."

We stared at each other for quite some time before I nuzzled my head back against his chest. It was then I could not only hear, but feel how fast his heart was thumping against his chest. It made me realize I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only vulnerable one. Maybe Oliver wasn't the horrible monster he made himself out to be. Maybe he actually did have a heart buried beneath all of those tattoos. It actually made me rather nervous to think about things like that though.

I glanced up at him, a pensive look on my face to see if he was bothered by the fact I could clearly hear his heart pounding. But instead his honey eyes were closed and he was breathing softly.

He looked as though he didn't have a care in the world. And I thought that for a few moments, I could pretend too.