Four Words

It was the first night of November, the streets were eerily calm, and the wind was cold, the kind of cold that made your teeth chatter but it wasn’t what bugged John. It wasn’t the weird looks he was getting from the people in the bar either, as he drank what was his sixth- or was it seventh?- drink and loudly commented about couples around him or everyone in general. He was drunk, had drank beer earlier, and knew this might make him puke in a few hours or the next morning but he didn’t care. He just had to drink his pain away.

He let out a bleary laugh when he saw a couple come out of the comfort room area, holding hands, who were clearly in the honeymoon phase. He was able to catch their attention and when they looked at him, he held his drink up, a goofy grin appearing on his face.

“Cheers to you for snagging that beautiful girl!” he exclaimed drunkenly, as the bartender who had tended to him all night rolled his eyes. “Let's just hope she loves you and isn't just staying for the sex!”

It was worded so harshly, as if he was a saint and had never done such a thing before. He had. Maybe even twice, but now that he'd experienced what it was like to be on the receiving end of an unrequited feeling, he never wanted to do it again.

The couple gave him weird looks and simply left, not bothering to engage in a conversation with an obviously plastered man. He chuckled to himself, whipping out his phone and scrolling thru his contacts, stopping once he saw her name.

He never thought she would break his heart like that. Then again, most people don't think that about someone they truly loved. When you were in-love with someone, you just gave them your all, trusted them not to break you, and hoped they would do the same. And at a certain point in your life, you'd imagine your entire future with them, and hope for that to happen.

John had done all of that. He'd opened up to her, showed her even the darkest, ugliest things about him, and shared everything with her, hoping that soon she would be comfortable enough to completely let him in, but it never happened. She'd always been touch-and-go, and maybe he should have taken it as a sign- God he should have- but he always figured that she wouldn't have moved in with him if she wasn't thinking of taking their relationship to the next level.

That was Rylee Rae Harris to everyone who knew her. Whenever she took one step forward, she would take three back.

But John accepted that. He saw through the bullshit and learned to love the girl who was a danger to herself. He cared for her, made sure she never felt alone, tended to her every need, gave her everything she wanted even the things she didn't ask for.

Especially security.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough for her.

He clicked on her number, pursing his lips together as he figured he needed to let his feelings out and she needed to be his outlet. Her phone rang once, twice, thrice, until the line went dead. John scoffed immaturely, calling her once more, but the same thing happened. He did it over and over, until finally, he got a text from her.

Stop calling me John, seriously.

Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, but he stopped them. How dare she? How dare she treat him like shit after everything he'd done for her? They'd broken up almost five months ago and not once did she check up on him, even through their friends. She'd never once asked how he was doing, if he was okay, if he was sleeping with every hot girl he could lay his eyes on or if he now hated every woman in the world. She didn't care about him, he could see that now. She never did, after all.

He called her again and again and again until the robotic voice recited that the number he was trying to call was out of reach. Great. She'd shut off her phone, like how she'd shut him off her life. He angrily slammed his fist on the table, making the bartender flinch and look at him worriedly.

He took his wallet out of his pocket, pulled out a hundred and slammed it on the table once more. “Keep the change,” he muttered angrily, shoving his phone onto his pocket and making his way out of the bar.

He felt the cold as soon as he stepped out, but he didn't care. He adjusted his beanie and proceeded to walk down town, to an apartment permanently etched on his brain, all the while thinking how did it happen? How did he managed to get his heart broken by who he thought was the one?

“Don't worry, I'm okay,” he said, chuckling as he looked at his friends whose faces were painted with worry. “Seriously guys, I'm okay. If anything, it's a learning experience and a fifth album in progress. So really, it's a win-win.”

Jared and Kennedy exchanged glances, the former taking a seat beside him. They were at Tim's, celebrating a friend's birthday where John arrived late with what for him was the most devastating news; and for them, was expected.

“Look, man, we know you're not,” Jared said. “Talk it out if you want to. We've all been there, it's-”

“Nah, I'm okay,” he insisted, shrugging. “I should have seen it coming, really. All of you knew it was going to happen, I was just blind to it. It's okay.”

“Well I'm glad,” Peter claimed. “She was a bitch anyway.”

John flinched at the label, looking up at his friend with an uneasy expression on his face. “She's not a bitch,” he muttered, making Peter roll his eyes.

“Oh come on,” he said sarcastically. “She toyed with your feelings and let you splurge on her only to-”

“She's not a bitch,” he repeated, louder and firmer this time. “And I would really appreciate it if you just shut up right now.”

To think he'd even defended her for how many times, to his friends, to strangers who tried to disrespect her, everything, he did for her. And she thanked him in bed, always, never letting a day pass without the sex. She wanted it more than John wanted it, to the point that it was almost where she based their relationship- how could he not have seen that?

He continued strolling down the sidewalk, sniffing every once in a while at the cold feeling that even his leather jacket couldn't protect him from. After all, even his insides felt cold; the warm, fuzzy feeling he used to have with her around was no longer there, when she left him she took it with her. And he missed it, he missed the warmth she brought, the tender kisses she gave him, the soft laughter escaping her mouth whenever he said something stupid. He missed her, most of all. Her absence had created a huge hole in his heart, and he wasn't sure whether it could still be filled by something, or even someone.

“Why don't you just move in me instead?” he suggested as they laid there on his bed, with her tracing patterns on his skin, abruptly stopping when he asked that.

“What?”

The hesitance in her voice told him she was already wavering, but he continued to push and push, saying it would be more convenient for them both, until finally she caved in and agreed.

“Really?” he exclaimed happily when she said yes. “You're moving in with me?”

She rolled her eyes at him, smirking. “Well you keep asking, so...”

It was easily one of the happiest days in his life, as though she had agreed to marry him. But moving in was a big deal for a girl like Rylee, for a girl who had never said an “I love you” back to him despite him saying it everyday, as much as he could. But he understood her, he understood she was scared of falling and ultimately losing a lover, since she had lost one before, making her believe she was now incapable of loving. But John thought she was just scared, that she would soon realize it was a self-preservation technique; he should have known it wasn't when she cheated on him.

But he forgave her. He let it pass, and she continued to stomp on his heart.

“I forgive you,” he murmured softly, ignoring the awful twinge in his stomach as he looked up at her almost stoic face. “It's okay baby, I forgive you.”

She didn't say anything; she just hugged him tight in her arms, as if she were afraid he'd suddenly change his mind. He pushed the pain onto the back of his mind, figuring whoever that guy was meant nothing to her, but he, well, he did mean something to her.

John kicked a pebble on the sidewalk angrily, as he turned the corner and finally saw it, her apartment building. He walked in, greeting the guard curtly and made his way up the stairs, not even bothering to wait for the elevator. His heart started beating faster as he pounded his fist on her door, begging for attention.

After three knocks, she opened the door, not even phased when she saw it was him. But he was stunned. She looked even more beautiful now. Her once bust-long hair was now cut below her shoulder, and she even had bangs now. She was still a brunette, but her hair was a darker shade now. Her skin was still porcelain, and her eyes were the same shade of brown, and her lips... God, her lips... he wanted to kiss her, but controlled himself. He came here for answers, not kisses, not to grovel so she would take him back.

All the anger he felt towards her subsided when he looked into her eyes. His shoulder slouched, his lip started quivering, and- God, he didn’t want it to happen, but- tears spilled out of his eyes and he took a step back, crouching down and hitting his forehead with his palm.

“God I’m so stupid,” he muttered, cursing himself repeatedly as the tears flew out of his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t do this- I shouldn’t have-”

“John,” she scolded, her tone entirely annoyed. She did feel sorry for him, but she wasn’t going to show it; he was going to mistake it for love, a thing she didn’t feel for him. “Come on in before the neighbours see you.”

A moment of silence passed before he obliged and walked on. She closed the door behind them, and when she faced him, studied his appearance. He looked downright shitty, and she was the cause of it; but she had warned him, she had warned him before that if he let himself for her, he was taking a huge risk because she didn’t know if she could fall in-love again. She’d told him that he’d be wasting his time on her and end up getting his heart broken, but he never listened, not to her, or his friends.

“Rylee, please- please take me back,” he muttered, tugging at his beanie and wanting nothing but to collapse on her feet and beg and beg until she caved in. “I want you back, Rylee, I-”

“You’re drunk,” she said loudly, letting him know she was doing the talking, “Just get in bed and sleep this off, you’ll think better in the morning.” She walked past him, beckoning him to follow but he simply grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back to him.

“No, Rylee, I-”

“John, don’t!” she cried angrily, shaking his hand away and glaring up at him. “I am not taking you back, and you can’t change my mind. Now, just please go to bed and leave tomorrow morning when you’re no longer drunk.”

“You care about me,” he said, forcing himself to come up with proper sentences, “You do- I can see that- just give me another chance-”

He grabbed her by the wrist once more, and pushed himself onto her- he kissed her on the lips desperately, but she didn’t respond how he’d hoped. She shoved him on the chest and took three steps back.

“Goddamnit, John!” she yelled, glaring at him. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

He felt pathetic then, hitting his forehead once more as he looked at her pleadingly. “Rylee, you care about me...”

“Yes, yes I do care about you,” she said honestly and firmly, looking straight at him so he’d know she wasn’t bluffing, “I care about you, I would never want you dead, but I don’t love you that way, John.”

And there they were, those four words he had once given to someone else and now was on the receiving end of. It was almost comical, how he’d written such a song, which now he couldn’t comprehend. Why? Why didn’t she love him? What was so hard about letting yourself fall for someone who clearly reciprocated the feeling?

He scoffed, fighting the oncoming tears. He felt like a pussy. He wanted to hurt himself, ask someone to punch him, just hurt him so he could focus on a pain that wasn’t this. “That’s not true,” he countered.

“It is,” she retorted. “I don’t love you. I don’t know how many times I have to repeat it, but I don’t, I really don’t.”

“STOP!” he yelled at her, grabbing the vase beside him and smashing it on the ground. The sound made her flinch, but he didn’t care. “Stop, stop, stop! Stop saying that- it’s not true!”

She remained quiet as he began to kick her couch, knowing he would only act worse if she repeated it. She tried to count up to ten in her head, to calm herself down before she tried to calm him down. She almost resorted to sweet-talking him and telling him she did love him, just to get him to stop, but she didn’t want to do it to him. John deserved more than that. He deserved the truth, and more importantly he deserved to be loved honestly.

But not by her. She couldn’t. No, she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried- which she did. She’d tried to love him, repeatedly told herself he was worth it, but it just never happened. She couldn’t force herself, literally couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried.

“Stop acting like a petulant child, John,” she scolded once he stopped kicking her couch, crossing her arms over her chest, staring him down. “Get in bed and sleep it off.”

“Sleep it 0ff- like that’s fucking possible!” he spat venomously at her, his green eyes filled with resentment and pain. “As if you’d be forgotten when I wake up.”

She sighed, raising her eyebrows at him. “Well, what do you want me to do, get you into an accident that will surely give you amnesia so you can forget me? Or send you to a doctor like the one from Eternal Sunshine? God, John, you’re 25, why don’t you act more your age.”

He didn’t say anything, he just merely stared at her, waiting for her to say something he wanted to hear. He had done this once before, exactly a week after they broke up. It ended with him sleeping over and herself begging him to leave the next morning, making it clear over and over that she no longer wanted to do anything with him.

“I warned you over and over again, that you’ll end up getting hurt; you just never listen,” she said, as if she didn’t cause his broken heart and this version of John. She sighed once more, tearing her eyes away from the broken man in front of her. “Just go to sleep, John.”

“No.”

He shook his head, shoving his hands on his jacket’s pockets as he walked closer to her. She instinctively took a step back, staring up at him with a stoic expression.

“Either I sleep over and you take me back, or I leave and- and- I don’t know, maybe get into an accident and die... Like stand in front of a car and just let myself die- you make the decision, Rylee.”

She blinked at him, then laughed viciously as she shook her head. “Seriously? That’s a tad melodramatic, don’t you think.”

“I don’t care!” he exclaimed. “Willem died in a car accident, didn’t he?” he taunted, making her narrow her eyes. “Well, maybe if the same thing happened to me you’d learn to love me, too.”

He knew it was a low blow, yet he couldn’t help it. Throughout their relationship, he had felt like he was competing against someone who wasn’t even there, yet he was losing. And now, he felt like he still was. Oh how pathetic he acted now, but he didn’t care; he wanted her, he wanted her love.

She nodded once, moving out of his way and beckoning to the door. “You do whatever you want,” she said coldly, staring him straight in the eyes. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

He stood there unmoved, waiting for her to stop him but she just stared him down. He could feel the hole getting bigger, wider, deeper- possibly every negative adjective one could think of- as he slowly made his way to the door. He walked out, not even bothering to close it- she could do that, he figured, the least she could do after basically letting him to kill himself. He hurried down the stairs, gave the guard an acknowledging nod, and left the building, realizing this was it. He could do whatever he pleased with himself and she wouldn’t care.

For a second, he contemplated it: dying, its entire concept, and how it would end what he was truly feeling. But he didn’t situate himself on the middle of the road or jumped off a building, nor did he have plans of doing so. He simply hailed a cab, recited his destination- back to his apartment, where there were still remnants of her, and the eight months they’d known each other- thinking, that if he were to die tonight, he wouldn’t have any complaints whatsoever.