You're Gone

I guess it was naive of me to think things would be magically fixed when we woke up. But that didn't stop me from wishing things would end of that way. You can't blame a girl for dreaming, right?

I woke up before Oliver did to find we were in the same position we fell asleep in. I was still in a towel and his arms were still wrapped around me tightly. I didn't want to move, so I didn't. I didn't move a muscle in fear of waking him and all of this being over. And going back to reality. And Oliver wanting me gone again. I took to staring at him instead of moving, once again becoming familiar with his features that I had missed so much.

He had facial hair now, mostly tiny stubble on his chin and on his upper lip. His left his hair wavy now. He no longer had his lip pierced and I could see the small scar where it once had been. His eyelashes were still as long as ever. His skin was still smooth and clear. I found my hand involuntarily moving towards his face, and I held my breath as my fingers ghosted along his jaw line. His eyes fluttered a bit before he squeezed them shut a little tighter before they fully opened. A smirk crawled across his lips and for a second I could have sworn it was two years prior when we loved each other. My heart broke thinking about it.

His honey eyes wandered down my face slightly and then landed on my chest. He took a deep intake of breath and sat up suddenly. I pulled the towel closer to my chest and sat up slowly to follow him. I knew then it was over.

"I should probably leave now," he mumbled, his eyes frantically darting around the room. I had rarely seen Oliver nervous and it was rather weird to see him acting so oddly.

"Why?" I whispered.

He sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Yeh know why, Tris," he said. "Yeh're in a towel."

"I could change," I said quickly, almost desperately. And I guess I was a bit desperate. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to be around him. I never wanted him to leave. I wanted him to stay at my side forver. I wanted to lay in that bed forever. It felt oddly familiar to that time two years ago, where I felt I needed him around me at all times. Except this time I knew it had nothing to do with drugs. And that was rather scary. My entire stint in rehab left me wondering if all we had in common was drugs. If what we felt was only what we thought was love. If the drugs had fucked everything up for us. And now I was sitting here with him on my bed, and everything I had felt two years ago was being amplified by a million.

He let another tiny smile tug at the side of his lips before glancing down at his hands, "Fhings aren't tha same anymore," he said softly. "'s different now, there's nofhin' there anymore."

I stared at him, wide eyed. Because that was all I could do. I couldn't think of anything but how fucking rejected I felt. The only thing worse than lying there with Oliver and thinking about how badly I missed what we had, was sitting there now and having him tell me things weren't the same. Because they were for me. Or maybe they were different. Maybe I felt more strongly now than I had in the past. Regardless if things were different or not though, I still felt love. And that was all that mattered. Right? I mean, I hoped love was all that mattered.

"'ow can yeh say that?" I finally croaked. I stood up, holding the towel close to me. "'ow can yeh tell me yehr heart isn't beating out of yehr chest righ' now? 'ow can yeh tell me yeh didn't call me las' nigh' cause yeh missed me? 'ow can yeh say yeh didn't come over today cause yeh fuckin' felt somefhin'?!" I screamed at him, my free hand pointing at him angrily. I didn't give him a chance to answer me, I instead grabbed a few articles of clothing and stomped back into the bathroom where I finally changed.

I was shaking when I finally looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were clouded with tears I refused to let fall. My hair was matted and wild because I had fallen asleep with it wet. Despite sleeping for nearly two hours there were bags under my eyes and I was so frazzled I could barely lift my hand to my head to brush my unruly hair. After I had cleaned myself up I opened the door slowly and padded my way back into my bedroom where I was going to rummage through my shit and find my phone. I needed to speak with Dylan because she was to only thing that made sense. I was relying on her to have something profound to say to calm me down. Once I found it I grabbed my phone and slowly began walking towards the kitchen. Just as soon as I was pressing the phone to my ear, it was slipping through my fingers.

"Wha're yeh still doin' 'ere?" I was completely shocked. He pushed himself off the of couch, rubbing his hands against his knees as he did so and then began walking towards me. I instinctively took a step back.

"Don't do this," he muttered.

"I'm not doin' anyfhin'," I pointed out. "Yeh jus' told me fhings weren't the same, yeh said there's nofhin' there anymore. I fhought yeh left Oliver. Yeh should've left."

"I should've done a lot of fhings I didn't," he told me, staring straight into my eyes. My breath hitched in my throat at his words.

"Don't," I said as he got closer.

"We're fucked up," he said, a small chuckle to his voice. "An' I wish fhings were different. But they're not."

"But yeh can't keep doin' this Oliver," I breathed. "Yeh can't tell me yeh 'ate me an' never wanna see me an' then be the sweetest fhing ever," I shook my head as I tired to fight back the tears. "It's not fair. Not ta me, ta Amanda, ta yehrself..."

"Why do yeh always 'ave ta bring 'er up?" He asked angrily, tugging on the ends of his hair. "s not about 'er!"

"It is when yeh're wiff 'er! Yeh can't be wiff 'er an' do this ta me too."

"Listen Tris- there's no way I can explain wha' goes on in me 'ead every day. An' there's no way I can explain fhings tha' 'appened between us or wiff me an' Amanda or everyfhin' we ever said or did ta each other, but I want yeh," his eyes found mine again.

And maybe it didn't make sense. And maybe what I was about to do wasn't okay. But I wanted him too.

I wanted him in a way I had never wanted anyone or anything before. And I wanted him in a way I was sure I would never want anyone or anything. I had wanted him for as long as I could remember and I would probably want him for longer than that. Because maybe you really don't ever forget your first love. And maybe you aren't supposed to. Because even if you're not always with the one you love first, you'll probably never love like that again. The odds were stacked against us. Because maybe we were never meant to be. But that didn't mean we didn't want to be. Fuck fate. Fuck everything anyone had ever told me about love and about how things were "supposed to be." Fuck my therapists in rehab for telling me he wasn't good for me. Fuck his parents for thinking we were bad for each other. Fuck our friends for always looking down on our relationship (whether they admitted to it or not).

There was no way I could ever explain anything that happened between us. There was no way I could justify our relationship or our drug use or the loss of our child. There was no way anything would ever make sense out loud the way it did in my head.

But at that very moment I wanted him. And I knew he wanted me just as badly. And fuck whatever would happen tomorrow when we woke up and had to deal with reality.

I pressed my lips to his so hard that it nearly knocked him over. Nothing about what we were doing was romantic. We were running on adrenaline and we were about to finish what we had started a few weeks ago. His hand immediately found my backside and he hoisted me up almost effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and locked them there as his lips meshed with mine in the most passionate way possible. He couldn't get to my bedroom fast enough, and the next thing I knew he was throwing me against the soft sheets.

"Yeh shouldn't of put clothes on," he mumbled as his lips found my neck.

I reveled in the feeling of his hands and lips all over me and tried to live in the moment instead of thinking about how tomorrow morning he would more than likely pretend none of this ever happened. It was a hard thought to swallow, but as soon as his lips found the spot right below my ear all I could do was throw my head back and moan, every thought in my head ceasing as I fused my fingers in with his hair.

"Oliver," I breathed as he took his shirt off. He didn't respond, instead just hurrying to discard of my shirt as well. Once he had done so I grabbed his face with both of my hands and forced him to look at me "Oliver," I spoke again, my voice soft and fragile. His fingers were just beginning to push my shorts off of my hips and I bit my lip as he looked right into my eyes, not even hesitating.

"Hmm?" He asked, a lopsided smile on his lips.

And he looked so cute.

"I...I love yeh," I stuttered.

And he smiled even wider.

"I missed this," he replied, returning his lips to mine.

And I knew it wouldn't last.