Status: Stop trying to love me, you're only getting hurt- Leana (Complete)

Smother

Morning talk

Around 11:45 I get up and look around the living room. It’s quiet, I drag my feet across the carpet and go to my room to check on Leana.

She’s entangled in my sheets asleep. Her black eyeliner is still smeared and her blue lipstick has rubbed off onto my pillows. I don’t really care. I come closer to her and run my fingers through her tangled pastel hair. That face of hers looks so innocent and sweet.

I sigh, knowing that she won’t stop, but every day, every moment I spend with her I’m hoping that she will. I hope that she’ll have an epiphany and just stop and be the girl that I know she wants to be, a girl who only deals with one guy and not four at once. A girl who eats regularly and not every other day, or who comes home every night before 4 in the morning. She won’t though, not for me and not even for herself, because she doesn’t care, she wants to die.

She groans and moves around. She opens her eyes and squints them.

“Why’s it so bright?” she grumbles.

Only the hall light is on and the sunlight from behind the sheet that I’ve used as a curtain for my window.

“It’s not bright at all.”

She opens her eyes only to roll them at me and then grabs a pillow and covers her head.

“Fuck time is it?” she asks, her voice muffled.

“Almost noon.”

She moans and I stand up. I grab a long sleeved gray shirt from my dirty clothes pile and throw it on.

“Jett, can you do me a favor?”

“What, get you an Excedrin and water?”

“Mhm.”

I grab what she asked for and return to my room passing over the items. I sit on the floor, my back against the wall next to my door and watch her silently.

When she sits up her face twists up in pain. She shifts around and ends up leaning up against the wall as well, propping pillows behind her back. It’s hard to see that she’s only 18 and that she’s only been 18 for a month when she acts like a 26 year old party girl and looks like a 14 year old.

She pops two pills into her mouth and sucks down the water in the glass. She puts the glass on the nightstand, runs her fingers through her hair, letting it all fall onto her right shoulder and then she looks over at me.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asks in an annoyed tone.

I want to say, because I’m tired of your bullshit, I want you to love me, I want you for myself and I’m trying to figure you out, but I just shrug and look away.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem Ana.”

“Yes you do. You’re looking at me like your fucking judging.” She raises her little voice. “What’ve I done now, what did I say last night?”

“What makes you think you said anything out of the ordinary?”

“Because I got completely wasted last night,” that makes her giggle.

It’s as if she’s proud of getting shitfaced drunk.

“Whatever you say obviously isn’t important if it’s not ever worth remembering.”

“I was drunk-”

“It doesn’t even matter. You didn’t say anything,” I put more emphasis on the word 'say.'

“Fine, what did I do?”

I stand up and leave the room. “Nothing,” I say while I’m walking down the hall.

I hear her yell my name and then curse. I go into the kitchen pantry and grab a chicken flavored cup of noodles. I pour water in it and pop the cup in the microwave for three minutes. While waiting for my food, Leana makes her way into the hallway, peering at me from the wall.

I know she’s standing there, but I ignore her presence.

“You’re mad at me, tell me what I did,” she practically begs. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

I continue to ignore her, sitting on the kitchen counter.

She storms over to where I am, standing between my legs. She slides her hands under my calves and pulls my legs up to her waist. She comes closer to me and gives me sad eyes.

“What did I do?” she asks softly.

“I don’t feel like arguing with you today.”

Her hands slide under my shirt touching my abs, going up to my chest. I resist the urge of grabbing her, laying her down on the counter next to me and making out with her.

“There doesn’t need to be an argument,” she says quietly.

“Leana, I love you.”

She nods, reaches up to her tippy toes, leans towards me and kisses my neck with her small soft lips.

“I know,” she whispers in my ear.
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