Remember Me

His fingers were brushing the door still, his voice calling out to her, but he knew she was ignoring him, something he had become exceptionally good at over the years. His fingers wrapped around the doorknob and turned it, half expecting it to stop at a quarter turn. It turned a full turn and opened, the door swinging inward, leaving him standing, silhouetted against the rain.

He stepped into the apartment, finally remembering everything he had lost in the crash. Nothing had changed. The couch was still there, the very one they had fallen asleep on so many times before, when they were just friends and would wake up with their legs tangled together and their bodies on opposite ends of the couch, the dvd they had fallen asleep watching now back on the opening screen. The tv hadn’t moved, the dvd player still there. The walls were still bland - hadn’t he always said he’d bring paint one day and they’d redo the walls some other color aside from white? The dining room table had another chip in it, god knew why. Maybe because Frankie had gotten so damn big; and the kitchen itself was still as small as ever.

He followed the hallway to the back room, already hearing familiar music spilling from her laptop speakers, the same song she always listened to when she was feeling heartbroken. The cheap alabaster paint followed the walls to the closed oak door she had taken to hiding herself behind, and he didn’t even bother knocking, he just turned the knob and wandered in.

And there she was, curled on the bedspread, soaking wet from the rain outside and sobbing into the flannel sheets, her cobalt eyes swimming with saltwater tears that wouldn’t dry on her cheeks this time. Choked sobs rattled her chest beneath her sweatshirt and knocked her knees together as they curled beneath her breasts. She quivered from the cold and from the ache and he could see her cheek was still red from where he had slapped her hours ago.

The guilt was going to eat him alive.

"Addy?" He questioned as he approached her bed. He had tried to apologize earlier, but she wouldn’t let him say it, just kept walking and he had no idea what to do, what he had done. In the months he had been gone, he had forgotten that they had been friends, that they had near on been family, and he had forgotten her face and god was he stupid. It took him following her, distantly, on her usual path - their old path - to remember all of it, to remember that she wasn’t just a girl he’d met only days ago; she was his friend, and he had fallen head over heels for her four years ago.

“Who broke your heart this time?” He murmured, same as always. They had gone through this countless times, every time she had fallen needlessly in love with someone who wasn’t worth her time. He didn’t know what to expect out of her now, didn’t know if he should defend himself, or hold her. Everything was so blurred and out of shape that he almost couldn’t remember which way was up.

"Addy, please talk to me." He whispered, helpless. "Please, please. I remember, Addy, please, please. I remember, please, Addy, just say something. Anything. Please just talk to me."

The whimper that escaped her throat was all he needed to hear before he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed behind her and looped his arms around her to hold her. “Shhh. Just tell me about him, okay?” He stroked her hair, his fingertips grazing her cheek. It still felt hot and a surge of guilt struck him again.

It seemed like hours before she had calmed down enough to speak, but when she did, all he heard was pain. “There was this guy I used to know.” She started. “He used to spend weekends here, watching movies, playing music. He even helped me get over some pretty stupid things. He left, for a while, and, I guess we grew up or grew out of one another.” She paused. “I— went to see him a few hours ago. Not the rest of the people, but him. He’d changed. There was nothing left of him as I used to know him and all I wanted to do, all I ever wanted to do, was fix things between us. But you never came back.”

He held her for a few more minutes, before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. God, Addy, I’m so sorry.” He pressed his lips into her hair and she sat up to make it easier. He pulled her into his lap and held her close. “I should never have done that, I’m so sorry.”

They hadn’t spoke for nearly four years for some reason or another and now that he had come home… he didn’t recognize half the people he had wanted to see, especially not her. They had grown up and grown apart and a part of him was always going to regret letting that happen. But he had left angry because he thought she was keeping secrets and changed his number just to avoid her, out of jealousy, out of feeling betrayed. He hadn't tried to fix things. And he had forgotten everything he had ever loved about her.

“I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye; I should never have changed my phone number and I should never, never have forced myself on you like that. Most importantly, I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

Her next words left him breathless. “All I wanted was for you to remember me. That’s the only reason I even thought to drop by. But, that's when I realized that the boy I fell in love with was gone. And now… you never came back, did you? The boy I fell in love with is gone, isn’t he, Kennedy?”

“No!” He replied, holding her tighter. “I’m right here, Addy. I’m right here.” He murmured, a sob escaping his throat. He had never thought he meant that much to her. Clearly, he was wrong. “Aren’t I? I’m right here.”

“But for how long?” The breath hissed into his lungs in a wince and he buried his face in her shoulder, his lips touching her collar bone. "And how do I know you remember?"

“As long as you’ll let me stay. I want to make it up to you. I want to fix this mess I made, Addison, please.” Her hands, which had been clasped over the thin zircon pendant around her throat finally moved to slide around his back, to hug him, her chin resting on his shoulder. She was still shivering, her breath still ragged. He swallowed, one hand crawling up her back to tangle in the hair that hung down, messy and wet.

"We were thirteen when you first told me you wanted a dog. Initially, my plan was to get you a Pit like Kota, but you. . . I knew you better then. So, before I went on tour four years ago, a friend's Golden had puppies. I gave you Frankie as a gift, for your birthday, because I was going to miss it. You named him after me."

“I love you. I should have said it a long time ago. I need to fix things too.” She replied, and he pulled away to take her face in his hands. He flinched when she did.

“I swear, Addy, I will never do that to you again.” He whispered, his mouth finding the mark he had left, leaving gentle kisses there. “Please.” The prayer was uttered before he could think about it, and a moment later, his lips were hovering inches away from hers. She was the one to close the distance this time and this time, the kiss was different; soft and gentle, he almost didn’t feel it.

“You’re on the clock, Kennedy. But you’re heading the right direction.” She replied, pressing her head to his chest, and he knew then that she had forgiven him. Still, he was going to prove he could be better than he had been; that he wasn’t just another boy that wasn’t worth her time.

He did love her, after all.

"C'mon, let's get out of these wet clothes." His suggestion was quiet, but it still earned him a raised eyebrow. "What? I am just saying! They're clingy and gross."

Addison's sweatshirt went missing a moment later, revealing a relatively dry tank top. Kennedy, however, wasn't so lucky. His jeans and shirt were soaked, which left him in just his boxers. Addison's expression was a strange combination of amused and sardonically 'okay then', and he straightened, after pulling off his jeans. "What? It's not like you haven't seen me wandering around in just my boxers before."

"No, it's just been a while." She replied, slipping off her jeans and pulling on a pair of boxer shorts, and giving him a playful shove. He grunted, and tackled her to the bed.

"And yet we're still so comfortable." He replied, poking her sides until she begged for mercy. "And aren't those mine?" He snapped the waistband of her boxer shorts and quirked a brow.

"They might be." She replied, her lips twisting into a smirk as she shoved him off of her and sprinting from the room, squealing playfully as she leapt onto the couch and woke Frankie, who jumped down in a huff and went off to find his food dish. A moment later, he had her pinned to the couch, his mouth pressed to her cheek.

"They look good on you. What's in?" He asked, curiously, gesturing to the DVD player.

"Uh, I think Let The Right One In. Don't quote me on that. Turn it on, let's find out."

And that's how they would spend their night; tangled on the couch watching random horror movies. Addison would fall asleep first, her head initially against his shoulder, eventually ending up on the opposite end of the couch, her legs tangled with his. Inevitably, he'd go find a blanket and wrap her in it, and leave himself uncovered, only to wake up the next morning with a blanket of his own. Still, the DVD would be back on the home screen when they woke, neither one having turned it off during the night.

They moved right back into old habits. Right back into the past that they were trying desperately not to lose.