‹ Prequel: The Square Root
Endlessly
With a Thunderstorm
Thunderstorms. I hate thunderstorms. Fuck thunderstorms. Why do they happen at night?! Why can’t they happen in the morning?! Putting thunderstorms and darkness together would be the cause of my death one day. Why am I complaining? Ding Ding Ding! You got it right! There’s a thunderstorm!
I don’t get why I can’t seem to sleep through them. I always wake up! Why?! Fuck this! I groaned out loud, and began to get irritated. I should go walk down stairs and get some water. Good idea? Yes? No? Maybe some alcohol to get my mind off it?
But your brother said not to drink any.
Who shit, where’d you come from? I thought you left me like, 3 years ago.
Because you had Ryan. But now that he’s gone, we only have each other.
“Ah shit, I’m talking to myself,” I groaned and got out of my bed along with my comforter, and inched my way to the other room. I practically ran in there after I heard another rumble of thunder. The room was soundproofed, but it didn’t help much since I could still hear the thunder outside, and could see the lightning outside my window.
This is the exact reason why I love winter. There’s snow, and there aren’t thunderstorms!
I inched my way over to the bar, grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of patron. At that moment, it seemed that I failed my brother, my future sister-in-law, and my friends. After all the effort they had put in to make me stop drinking, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of it. Especially now that I’ve just seen Ryan? And he’s constantly on my mind now.
When was or is he ever not?
Shut up
Face it girlfriend, since the day we’ve met him, he’s been in your mind.
I sighed at the valid point my mind had made. I looked down at the shot glass and the liquor was just staring at me right in the face. Between the fear of thunderstorms, to the fact that I’m home alone for another two or so weeks, and the fact that I’ve admitted to myself - that it would take literally forever to get Ryan out of my mind. I downed the shot glass. And another, and another.
Fuck, not even getting drunk is helping right now. I’m back in my room, whimpering because of the thunder and lightning. The alcohol also let me out all my emotions. I wasn’t just sensitive because of the weather, but also because I was craving for him. His touch, his lips, his scent, his voice. Him. Ryan.
As if on cue, the door flew open, and my eyes snapped towards it. He was here, at the door, making his way to me and before I knew it, his arms were wrapped tightly around me - his scent enveloping me, his lips kissing my forehead, and his voice whispering soothing things to me, like always.
I was gripping onto his shirt tightly, and cried. Cried because of my longing for him, and-, well that’s the only reason I cried.
I woke up the next day with a massive headache. I just laid there for a minute, hoping for the pain to subside when I remembered something last night. Was Ryan really here? I looked beside me and hoped that it was just like other nights that Ryan kept me company. That I woke up next to him. But to my disappointment, it was bare.
Alcohol, oh what it does to you.
I groaned and got up slowly, lifting my head to look ahead. I almost screamed at the sight. My hair was tousled, my eyes bloodshot with bags under them, and, well, I straight up looked like complete shit.
I walked up to my vanity mirror, and grabbed a brush, hoping to at least make my hair look presentable (not that there’s anyone to present to), but failed miserably. I needed a shower. I smelled like patron, and my face was icky with tears.
I then made my way to the bathroom and washed my face, then went back and tied my hair in a pony tail before I went down to the kitchen and made myself some breakfast. Turns out that I didn’t have to. There was oatmeal placed on the table, along with a glass of water and a saucer. I sat down on the table, seeing that the saucer had two pills on it, and there was an Advil container beside it. One regular sized one, and one pretty damn huge one.
I checked the computer our of habit, and there it was. A typed note.
Eat and drink the vitamin and medicine. I figured you’d need an Advil or two for that hangover. Drink 4 cups of water by 12, I’ll be back at 12:30 for lunch.
There was no indication of who had left that note on my computer. It would’ve been easier to figure out if the person handwrote it, knowing that I could most likely tell who it was from. Even if I didn’t know who it was from, I knew that my brother had sent him or her, so I did what the note told me, and took a shower.
Whoever the hell that could be would appreciate me taking a shower. I stepped out of my room completely refreshed and presentable to the outside world by 12:48. I made my way downstairs to find out who the hell has been in my house, made me breakfast, and knew I had a hangover.
As I walked into the kitchen, I saw that the table was already set for two. Two plates, two pairs of utensils, and a whole bunch of food. Olive Garden. Déjà vu much? I raised an eyebrow as I made my way over to it and examined the table.
“You’re awake,” I heard the voice, and I froze. Slowly, I did a 180, and faced whoever the fuck it was.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Dolciani?” I glared.
“Your brother, my sister, Samantha, Kyle, Luke, Jack, Scotty-,” he started counting on his fingers.
“Skip the list,” I said irritatedly.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Well, they’re not here right now, so I’m here to keep an eye on you,” he smirked at me.
“I’m not a child that you need to watch,” I snapped at him.
“Too bad, because you’re stuck with me,” he shrugged and took a seat. “I can file for trespassing,” I said to him. “You can do it after lunch, I’m starving,” he said and started to dig into his food. I looked at him dumbfounded. Why the fuck is he acting like nothing happened?! Wait, so was he really there last night?! When I was absolutely trashed?!
“When did you get here?” I asked him carefully. “12:30” he said with his mouth stuffed with pasta. “No, I mean, when did you get here, like here,” I said.
“Oh, you mean last night?” he asked me.
“Wait, so you were here last night?!” I gasped. He rolled his eyes at me. “As if I’ve never seen you scared of thunderstorms,” he said. I stared at him, mouth agape. Is he not getting the hit that I’m totally pissed off at him?! “Can you not look at me like that? We’ll talk later, first you need to stuff you mouth with this food, because damn, if you don’t, I’ll finish it all,” he scoffed.
I rolled my eyes at him, and was about to walk out of the kitchen, leave him be and grab my own food. But before I made it outside the kitchen, I was grabbed my the waist, dragged to the table, and was shoved into the seat. “You’re not going anywhere, first of all,” Ryan said, sitting in front of me. “I have your keys, meaning you can’t drive.”
“Bastard!” I screeched.
“Eat,” he instructed. “I got your favorites,” he said. I would’ve thought he forgot about my favorites, but no, all of it was right in front of me. “Feel free to shove them down your throat, because I sure am,” he grinned at me as he continued eating. I just looked at him, and rolled my eyes, then leaned back on my seat, crossing my arms.
“Hazeey,” he whined. “Eat, please?” he pouted with puppy eyes. I was shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Those eyes would be the death of me. I surprisingly kept my bored face on though.
He pouted and starting piling stuff on my plate, filling every space that was available. “You’re gonna have to finish this,” he said as he kept piling on more stuff. “You want me to stop?” he asked, as he dropped another scoop of pasta.
“Stop! I’ll eat! Stop!” I begged. He grinned triumphantly and went back to his food. We at in silence, finishing half an hour later, and cleaned up. We both then went back to our seats and leaned back on it, groaning.
“I’m so full,” I groaned. “I fucking blame you,” I glared at him.
“Doesn’t this remember of our high school days?” he chuckled. “When we used to stay here, and eat our hearts out, then start blaming each other because we’re so full, then start complaining about how fat we are?” I chuckled.
“I know, and you keep denying that you’re fat, but I kept insisting that it jiggles,” I giggled.
“Oh, the old days,” he sighed.
I looked at him straight in the eyes for the first time, and there was an emotion I couldn’t read in them. It seemed so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. I knew one thing though, it made my heart swell. Which reminds me. Bitch mode. I frowned at him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
“Do you not want to see me?” he asked, not even bothering to mask his expression, which currently showed that he was hurt by my question. I was taken aback. I could lie, or I could tell the truth.
“I asked you first,” I told him.
“I told you the reason I’m here. Because everyone is busy to take care of you,” he sighed.
“So, that’s the only reason?” I asked, my voice breaking. I cleared my throat right away. “I do not need anyone to take care of me,” I said to him, matter of factly.
“Don’t need anyone to take care of you?” he scoffed. “You’re kidding,” he said to me. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Hazelyn, have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look like shit,” he bluntly stated. I gasped. “Even you can’t deny it. The first day I saw you, I barely recognized you. And what was that last night? You were fucking wasted! You had no comprehension of your actions whatsoever,” he stood up and pulled me out of my seat. “And this, what the fuck is this?!” he asked turning my wrist facing up, to show me my scars.
“None of your business,” I muttered and walked out the kitchen, and walked back up to my room.
“Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” he said.
“You have no right, whatsoever to tell me what to do,” I sneered at him, and slammed the door to my room, but before I could lock it, it flew open. Having a 6’1 furious Ryan towering over my 5’4 frame.
“I may not have a right, but you cannot tell me I do not have a business in what is happening to you,” he said, his voice a whole octave lower.
“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “What is your business in what happens to me?”
“I caused this. I broke you in half, I caused your emotional pain, your physical pain. It was all because of me. That’s why I couldn’t say anything at the hospital! Because I didn’t want you to get anymore hurt that you already were!” he shouted at me.
“Who ever said you caused this? This,” I said pointing to myself, from head to toe, “Is purely my decision,” I shrugged and ran my fingers through my hair. “And you have nothing to do with it,” I said, my back turned from him.
“Bullshit,” I heard him boom, making me flinch. I suddenly felt my body involuntarily do a 180, and I faced Ryan.
“You know that I’ll always know when you’re lying,” he said. “Oh?” I looked straight in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “The last time we talked. You said you were sorry for a bunch of things,” he said. “I don’t forgive you,” he said. I glared at him, and attempted to step back, but his hand on the small of my back prevented me to do so. “Because it was pure bullshit,” he continued.
“If you’re gonna-,” he cut me off.
“You weren’t sorry at all. Not for 99% of those things,” he said.
“And you’d know that how?”
“Because I know you,” he said looking straight into my eyes. “I know you’d never, ever be sorry for loving me.”
I don’t get why I can’t seem to sleep through them. I always wake up! Why?! Fuck this! I groaned out loud, and began to get irritated. I should go walk down stairs and get some water. Good idea? Yes? No? Maybe some alcohol to get my mind off it?
But your brother said not to drink any.
Who shit, where’d you come from? I thought you left me like, 3 years ago.
Because you had Ryan. But now that he’s gone, we only have each other.
“Ah shit, I’m talking to myself,” I groaned and got out of my bed along with my comforter, and inched my way to the other room. I practically ran in there after I heard another rumble of thunder. The room was soundproofed, but it didn’t help much since I could still hear the thunder outside, and could see the lightning outside my window.
This is the exact reason why I love winter. There’s snow, and there aren’t thunderstorms!
I inched my way over to the bar, grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of patron. At that moment, it seemed that I failed my brother, my future sister-in-law, and my friends. After all the effort they had put in to make me stop drinking, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of it. Especially now that I’ve just seen Ryan? And he’s constantly on my mind now.
When was or is he ever not?
Shut up
Face it girlfriend, since the day we’ve met him, he’s been in your mind.
I sighed at the valid point my mind had made. I looked down at the shot glass and the liquor was just staring at me right in the face. Between the fear of thunderstorms, to the fact that I’m home alone for another two or so weeks, and the fact that I’ve admitted to myself - that it would take literally forever to get Ryan out of my mind. I downed the shot glass. And another, and another.
Fuck, not even getting drunk is helping right now. I’m back in my room, whimpering because of the thunder and lightning. The alcohol also let me out all my emotions. I wasn’t just sensitive because of the weather, but also because I was craving for him. His touch, his lips, his scent, his voice. Him. Ryan.
As if on cue, the door flew open, and my eyes snapped towards it. He was here, at the door, making his way to me and before I knew it, his arms were wrapped tightly around me - his scent enveloping me, his lips kissing my forehead, and his voice whispering soothing things to me, like always.
I was gripping onto his shirt tightly, and cried. Cried because of my longing for him, and-, well that’s the only reason I cried.
~/~/~/~/~
I woke up the next day with a massive headache. I just laid there for a minute, hoping for the pain to subside when I remembered something last night. Was Ryan really here? I looked beside me and hoped that it was just like other nights that Ryan kept me company. That I woke up next to him. But to my disappointment, it was bare.
Alcohol, oh what it does to you.
I groaned and got up slowly, lifting my head to look ahead. I almost screamed at the sight. My hair was tousled, my eyes bloodshot with bags under them, and, well, I straight up looked like complete shit.
I walked up to my vanity mirror, and grabbed a brush, hoping to at least make my hair look presentable (not that there’s anyone to present to), but failed miserably. I needed a shower. I smelled like patron, and my face was icky with tears.
I then made my way to the bathroom and washed my face, then went back and tied my hair in a pony tail before I went down to the kitchen and made myself some breakfast. Turns out that I didn’t have to. There was oatmeal placed on the table, along with a glass of water and a saucer. I sat down on the table, seeing that the saucer had two pills on it, and there was an Advil container beside it. One regular sized one, and one pretty damn huge one.
I checked the computer our of habit, and there it was. A typed note.
Eat and drink the vitamin and medicine. I figured you’d need an Advil or two for that hangover. Drink 4 cups of water by 12, I’ll be back at 12:30 for lunch.
There was no indication of who had left that note on my computer. It would’ve been easier to figure out if the person handwrote it, knowing that I could most likely tell who it was from. Even if I didn’t know who it was from, I knew that my brother had sent him or her, so I did what the note told me, and took a shower.
Whoever the hell that could be would appreciate me taking a shower. I stepped out of my room completely refreshed and presentable to the outside world by 12:48. I made my way downstairs to find out who the hell has been in my house, made me breakfast, and knew I had a hangover.
As I walked into the kitchen, I saw that the table was already set for two. Two plates, two pairs of utensils, and a whole bunch of food. Olive Garden. Déjà vu much? I raised an eyebrow as I made my way over to it and examined the table.
“You’re awake,” I heard the voice, and I froze. Slowly, I did a 180, and faced whoever the fuck it was.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Dolciani?” I glared.
“Your brother, my sister, Samantha, Kyle, Luke, Jack, Scotty-,” he started counting on his fingers.
“Skip the list,” I said irritatedly.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Well, they’re not here right now, so I’m here to keep an eye on you,” he smirked at me.
“I’m not a child that you need to watch,” I snapped at him.
“Too bad, because you’re stuck with me,” he shrugged and took a seat. “I can file for trespassing,” I said to him. “You can do it after lunch, I’m starving,” he said and started to dig into his food. I looked at him dumbfounded. Why the fuck is he acting like nothing happened?! Wait, so was he really there last night?! When I was absolutely trashed?!
“When did you get here?” I asked him carefully. “12:30” he said with his mouth stuffed with pasta. “No, I mean, when did you get here, like here,” I said.
“Oh, you mean last night?” he asked me.
“Wait, so you were here last night?!” I gasped. He rolled his eyes at me. “As if I’ve never seen you scared of thunderstorms,” he said. I stared at him, mouth agape. Is he not getting the hit that I’m totally pissed off at him?! “Can you not look at me like that? We’ll talk later, first you need to stuff you mouth with this food, because damn, if you don’t, I’ll finish it all,” he scoffed.
I rolled my eyes at him, and was about to walk out of the kitchen, leave him be and grab my own food. But before I made it outside the kitchen, I was grabbed my the waist, dragged to the table, and was shoved into the seat. “You’re not going anywhere, first of all,” Ryan said, sitting in front of me. “I have your keys, meaning you can’t drive.”
“Bastard!” I screeched.
“Eat,” he instructed. “I got your favorites,” he said. I would’ve thought he forgot about my favorites, but no, all of it was right in front of me. “Feel free to shove them down your throat, because I sure am,” he grinned at me as he continued eating. I just looked at him, and rolled my eyes, then leaned back on my seat, crossing my arms.
“Hazeey,” he whined. “Eat, please?” he pouted with puppy eyes. I was shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Those eyes would be the death of me. I surprisingly kept my bored face on though.
He pouted and starting piling stuff on my plate, filling every space that was available. “You’re gonna have to finish this,” he said as he kept piling on more stuff. “You want me to stop?” he asked, as he dropped another scoop of pasta.
“Stop! I’ll eat! Stop!” I begged. He grinned triumphantly and went back to his food. We at in silence, finishing half an hour later, and cleaned up. We both then went back to our seats and leaned back on it, groaning.
“I’m so full,” I groaned. “I fucking blame you,” I glared at him.
“Doesn’t this remember of our high school days?” he chuckled. “When we used to stay here, and eat our hearts out, then start blaming each other because we’re so full, then start complaining about how fat we are?” I chuckled.
“I know, and you keep denying that you’re fat, but I kept insisting that it jiggles,” I giggled.
“Oh, the old days,” he sighed.
I looked at him straight in the eyes for the first time, and there was an emotion I couldn’t read in them. It seemed so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. I knew one thing though, it made my heart swell. Which reminds me. Bitch mode. I frowned at him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
“Do you not want to see me?” he asked, not even bothering to mask his expression, which currently showed that he was hurt by my question. I was taken aback. I could lie, or I could tell the truth.
“I asked you first,” I told him.
“I told you the reason I’m here. Because everyone is busy to take care of you,” he sighed.
“So, that’s the only reason?” I asked, my voice breaking. I cleared my throat right away. “I do not need anyone to take care of me,” I said to him, matter of factly.
“Don’t need anyone to take care of you?” he scoffed. “You’re kidding,” he said to me. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Hazelyn, have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look like shit,” he bluntly stated. I gasped. “Even you can’t deny it. The first day I saw you, I barely recognized you. And what was that last night? You were fucking wasted! You had no comprehension of your actions whatsoever,” he stood up and pulled me out of my seat. “And this, what the fuck is this?!” he asked turning my wrist facing up, to show me my scars.
“None of your business,” I muttered and walked out the kitchen, and walked back up to my room.
“Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” he said.
“You have no right, whatsoever to tell me what to do,” I sneered at him, and slammed the door to my room, but before I could lock it, it flew open. Having a 6’1 furious Ryan towering over my 5’4 frame.
“I may not have a right, but you cannot tell me I do not have a business in what is happening to you,” he said, his voice a whole octave lower.
“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “What is your business in what happens to me?”
“I caused this. I broke you in half, I caused your emotional pain, your physical pain. It was all because of me. That’s why I couldn’t say anything at the hospital! Because I didn’t want you to get anymore hurt that you already were!” he shouted at me.
“Who ever said you caused this? This,” I said pointing to myself, from head to toe, “Is purely my decision,” I shrugged and ran my fingers through my hair. “And you have nothing to do with it,” I said, my back turned from him.
“Bullshit,” I heard him boom, making me flinch. I suddenly felt my body involuntarily do a 180, and I faced Ryan.
“You know that I’ll always know when you’re lying,” he said. “Oh?” I looked straight in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “The last time we talked. You said you were sorry for a bunch of things,” he said. “I don’t forgive you,” he said. I glared at him, and attempted to step back, but his hand on the small of my back prevented me to do so. “Because it was pure bullshit,” he continued.
“If you’re gonna-,” he cut me off.
“You weren’t sorry at all. Not for 99% of those things,” he said.
“And you’d know that how?”
“Because I know you,” he said looking straight into my eyes. “I know you’d never, ever be sorry for loving me.”