Hesitating and Suffocating

John sat down on the roof, watching as Cally walked away, his heart breaking. He cursed under his breath. He was stuck in the past, and that was why he was so fucking sad. Because despite everything, through it all, all he really needed was closure. He needed someone to tell him that Cally would fall back in love with him, or she was going to walk away.

He knew why. He was being a dick, building walls instead of bridges because he was scared. Who was to say that being friends with her, even just friends, wasn’t going to be hard? That every moment where he stood beside her was going to remind him that they would never be the way they used to be.

And he fucking hated that.

He sighed, tugging on his hair and lighting a cigarette. Something about Cally now was different, and he thought he was putting things together. She didn’t know who she was when she was with him because he wasn’t there for her.

John cursed himself, dropping the cigarette to the concrete a thousand feet below. He knew he should chase her, find her, and spill his guts. But he was afraid. There were so many new options to pursue, ones that needed to be eliminated. There was Jamie to think about, there was Cally’s finding herself, and there was the simple face that she might not want him anymore.

Suddenly the wide open air was constricting his lungs and his body was fighting the impulse to flee, to run as fast as he could as far away as he could. But his body remained glued to the ground.

He closed his eyes involuntarily, his mind taking him back to a place he was scared to venture to.

“Cally you can’t die on me.” John was kneeling, holding her head in his lap and constantly pushing her hair out of her closed eyes, her lips opened slightly as she breathed, her chest collapsing. Each breath seemed so hard, and her blood was leaking all over him, staining his suit and her beautiful blue dress. “Cally, stay with me, baby. I love you, baby, I love you!” He screamed, and her eyes fluttered open, in slits, and she gave a small smile, exhaled.

Words seemed hard for her. “Stay,” She managed, and her eyes fluttered shut again, one hand pressing down where the grill had smashed her ribs and had intense internal bleeding. John could see this, and was searching the street for the paramedics. People were gathering around them, but John hardly saw them. He only saw Cally as she managed another word. “Love,” She said, gently moving her free hand to his chest, touching it gently before her eyes closed indefinitely, and the paramedics arrived, and John put the pieces together, slowly.

They were trying to bring her back to life. Her heart had stopped, and as they drove, they were going to try to bring her back. But John felt oddly okay. Because she had told him she loved him, though hard to determine or figure out, she loved him. And wasn’t that enough?

John nodded, fighting back tears as he walked back towards his apartment, keeping his eyes trained on the sky, as if waiting for something to shoot across it to prove that Cally was home.

There was nothing.

A few rooms below, Cally was staring at the photo albums again, straining herself so much that her head pounded. Everything hurt like a bitch and she didn’t care because there was an itch.

It was a picture of her and John, though they clearly either weren’t together and were fighting. John didn’t have his arm around her, and Cally was simply leaning into him. Cally looked like she was going to cry, and John looked like he wanted to punch himself or someone or even Cally.

Cally smiled. It was nice, sort of, knowing that the relationship she had with John wasn’t perfect. That there were flaws and things that she couldn’t control and things they couldn’t fix. She didn’t know why, but it was a nice feeling to know that it wasn’t perfect.

It was also reassuring because though it was broken and it wasn’t perfect, they found a way to make it work. She chewed on her lip and she sighed, running her fingers through her head.

If they could make it work once, they could do it again.