Broken Things

When I arrived back at the apartment, Harry’s Range Rover was no where to be seen. I’d taken a longe route back, intentionally drawing out the minutes for as long as I could in the hopes that this would be the outcome. When it was, I still didn’t have it in me to smile.

Pulling out the key Declan had left on my bedside table, I slid it into the lock and pushed the door open. Peeking my head in, he didn’t appear to be in the living room or the kitchen, something I was infinitely thankful for. Being angry with Declan was exhausting, but I wanted to put up a front for at least the rest of the evening.

It seemed either Declan or Harry had taken the time to unload the groceries, the brown paper bags folded and stacked neatly behind the trash can to recycle later. It was a relief I wouldn’t have to be the one to deal with it after the day I’d endured, so I slipped off my shoes and started across the living room to the hallway leading to my room.

Declan’s door was closed and I could hear soft music behind it as I passed. I couldn’t be sure if he’d heard me come back or not, but I’d tried to be as quiet about it as possible up until I hit that one creaky floorboard I’d forgotten about in the hallway. Cringing, I made it the rest of the way into my room before shutting the door and walking over to my bed.

With a sigh, I threw myself backward, the mattress creaking slightly beneath the sudden addition of my weight. Bringing a hand to my face, I tried to wipe some of the sleep from my eyes, but I knew my exhaustion left over from the drastic time change coupled with the emotionally traumatizing day I’d endured would win out.

As if on que, a slight knock was heard on my door. I didn’t bother to make a response, and a few moments later Declan’s head was poking through the crevice between it and the doorframe.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m mad at you.”

He didn’t seem surprised by it. Instead, he pushed the rest of the way into my room, tentatively making his way over to my bed. With a dramatic sigh, I scooted over to make room for him to lay down beside me. He did so silently, taking a few moments to collect his thoughts.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky with an orange glow. My window was thrown wide open, a change from how tightly it had been shut for the air conditioner in the afternoon, but the breeze blowing in felt nice now that the sun had set. California was so arid and it had a way of cooling down quickly with the disappearance of the sun.

“I know you’re unhappy with me telling him–“

I cut him off before he could get much further.

“You had absolutely no right to tell him.”

He sighed, raising his right hand to rest behind his head as he shut his eyes. I studied the expression on his face, a mixture of exasperation and empathy.

“I thought he deserved to know, Sawyer.”

“He doesn’t deserve to know anything. He chose to walk out of my life and never look back.”

“You think he’s capable of that? Really?” Declan asked, looking over at me for the first time. I scoffed.

“I know he’s capable of that. I lived it.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but bit his tongue. I couldn’t do the same.

“I don’t need his sympathy. I’ve had quite enough from everyone else and I’m sick of it. I left the goddamn country to get away from it. I’m tired of everyone looking at me like I’m so broken.”

“If it had been me, I would want to know,” he responded cooly.

I didn’t have a reply. Instead, I let my eyes fall shut, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

I could understand why he did it, but I still didn’t agree with it. Back when it was the three of us, there wasn’t a thing in the world I would have ever considered keeping from either Harry or Declan. But time had changed that, Harry had changed that, and now I didn’t feel as if I owed him anything. He’d made it extremely apparent he didn’t want anything.

I’m not sure at which point I fell asleep, but I woke up the next morning still beside Declan. In the night, he’d slung an arm over me, which must have been what kept me warm despite the fact that I was still laying atop the comforter. His head was dangerously near my shoulder, his breathing shallow as he slept on.

I didn’t have much in my room, but Declan had a spare alarm clock I kept beside my bed. It read 9:15 AM and I groaned, wanting nothing more than to fall back into a state of unconsciousness and sleep the day away. Still, I wanted to find a bike and begin to unpack the little bit of belongings I did have. The need to be productive battled with the urge to fall back asleep, and I’d just decided that it could all be done when I woke again later when Declan’s phone began buzzing on my nightstand.

He let out a grunt of displeasure as he rolled off me, eyes still closed as he blindly felt for his phone. I rolled my eyes, but found myself slightly amused with the situation. Muttering a groggy, “Hello?” into the reciever, he ran a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he answered whoever was on the other end as he stifled a yawn.

“No, don’t worry about it. It’ll pass.”

I propped my head up on my elbow as I listened to half of a conversation. I couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but Declan didn’t look in the mood for a particularly long conversation.

“Seriously. I’m working on it. I’ll see you later.”

He hung up before letting his phone fall to the floor. Turning back toward me, his eyes were shut again.

“Sorry for crashing in here,” he muttered into my pillow.

“It’s fine,” I dismissed, raking a hand through my hair.

It would be impossible to fall back asleep now that I’d kept my eyes open longer than two minutes. As much as I hated it, I knew I had to get up. Laying in bed longer would only make it worse.

“Where are you going?” Declan asked, but his face was still buried in my pillowcase. I awkwardly shifted toward the foot of the bed so as not to crawl over him.

“I’m going to make myself some coffee and start my day. You should probably do the same,” I told him, pulling open my door and stepping out into the hallway.

I didn’t hear his mumbled reply, only the groan he let out afterward. Why boys were so difficult in the morning was beyond me. I wasn’t not much of a morning person myself, but I could at least find the willpower to pull myself up and face the day.

I popped a cup into the Keurig maker and pressed down, leaning against the counter with my arms across my chest as I forced my eyes open, mentally listing all the reasons I needed to get out of bed in the first place.

I wasn’t expecting Declan to have followed me, but he was in the doorframe a few moments later, shirtless and exhausted with sleep. I couldn’t stifle my smile, which caused him to frown.

“What are you doing today?” he asked.

“I want to buy a bike,” I answered. “And maybe start unpacking.”

“Where are you going to buy a bike?”

He pulled out a chair at the small kitchen set, resting an elbow on the table as he ran his hand through his messy blond hair. I reached for my mug, filled with coffee, and offered it to him. He bit down on his lip, considering it. I rolled my eyes as I sat it on the mat in front of him before turning to make myself another cup.

“Thanks,” he added.

“I was going to Google a place,” I told him in response to his bike question.

“There’s this shop over on Burbank. It’s a bit far to walk in this heat, but I can drive you,” he offered.

“Okay,” I agreed easily, nodding my head as I tapped my fingers on the counter tile, impatient for my coffee after giving mine away.

“I’ll get changed then,” he said, pushing up from the table. I watched him go, taking his coffee with him.

A moment later, my cup was finished and I set the cup down on the table before raiding the cupboards for one of the boxes of Poptarts I had bought the day before. When my search turned out successful, I plopped back down in my seat and ate quickly, practically gulping down the caffiene to wake my body up.

I cleaned up when I was finished and started toward my room. Digging through my duffel, I landed on a pair of plain denim shorts and an Atlas Genius tee shirt I’d bought when I caught their show at a pub in early 2013. All that I had left to do was brush my teeth and put on some mascara. In seven minutes, I was in the living room, slinging my crossbody over my shoulder as Declan appeared, keys in hand. He raised his brows at me as if to ask if I was ready. When I nodded, pulling open the door, he followed me out wordlessly.

The drive to the cyclery wasn’t a long one. It was three or four blocks away, tops, and I bit back my urge to tell Declan it would have been just as easy to walk. The last thing I wanted was another argument with him, so I let it slide as he held the door open for me.

A blast of cool air hit my face, sending goosebumps up and down my body. A sales clerk smiled up at us and called out a greeting, which I quietly returned. Declan, on the other hand, had no problem strolling up to him to ask about their different models.

It was moments like these when the differences in our personalities became overwhelmingly apparent. Declan was into parties and socializing, comfortable with everyone and easy to talk to. I was hesitant and thoughtful, not afraid to talk to people, but choosing to keep to myself. Harry had been our happy medium, but I pushed that thought away the moment it unexpectedly popped into my mind.

Declan’s voice drifted away as I began to make my way down an aisle, studying the different makes and colors. It was hard to restrain a low whistle from escaping my lips when I read some of the price tags.

My mom’s inheritance had left me well off, but I wasn’t the type to blow ridiculous amounts of money on things I didn’t need. I rounded the corner with the intentions of finding Declan and heading out of there, telling him I’d find one on Craigslist, but stopped short when my eyes landed on a small display of secondhand bikes in the corner.

They weren’t displayed on racks like the others, locked into place to prevent theft. They weren’t near as fancy either, but I didn’t need flash; I needed efficiency.

My eyes scanned the row of them, resting on kickstands, when I found it. It didn’t only look retro, it undoubtedly was. Sky blue with white detailing, there were scratches on the paint and rust on the spokes of the wheels.

I was in love.

“How much for this one?” I called over my shoulder, attention focused on the sales clerk who was gesturing to a road bike near the front of the store. He turned at the sound of my voice, furrowing his brows as he craned to see which bike I was referring to. When he registered it, he glanced warily at Declan before walking over to me.

“This one?” he asked, pointing to it. I nodded, ignoring Declan’s sigh beside me.

“It’s not even in good condition,” he told me quietly, to avoid offending the man who was looking down sadly at the bicycle.

“It has character,” I defended. “How much is it?” I repeated.

“I’ll let it go for $75,” the employee told me a moment later.

“Deal.”

He looked disappointed and I knew Declan had been asking about the more expensive models. If this man was paid on comission, I’d just ruined his day. There was something about this bike that I loved, though. Something that reminded me of home.

The transaction was quick and painless. I grabbed the bike and pushed it out of the store, Declan still watching me with that disappointed expression as he held the door open for me. It was then that he looked down at his trunk and a thought occurred to him.

“Is this going to fit in my trunk?”

“Probably not,” I answered skeptically. “But I can ride it back.”

“Don’t be stupid, we’ll figure a way to get it in there.”

“Don’t call me stupid,” I told him firmly. He looked over at me, surprised, but muttere a soft apology a moment later. I sucked in a breath as I threw a leg around one side of the bike, sitting on the seat.

“I’ll see you at home,” I told him with a small smile.

“Wait...”

I paused on the sidewalk, one foot on the pedal, and glanced over my shoulder at him. He was rubbing his neck sheepishly, shifting his weight as he stood on the sidewalk, eyes focused on me. He looked guilty.

“What?” I snapped.

“Harry’s going to be at the apartment when you get there.”

“And why would Harry be at our apartment?” I growled.

“I invited him over for the World Cup,” came his answer.

I stood there, straddling the bike, while I sent him my best glare. He didn’t seem as fazed by it as I had hoped, but he still had that guilty expression.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

“Because I’m tired of this tug-of-war,” he answered. “Harry’s my best mate, and so are you. And once upon a time, it all worked out. So I don’t understand why it can’t again.”

“This is not a discussion I’m having with you on a sidewalk on Burbank Boulevard.”

I turned to leave, pushing up on the bike to pedal away, but paused again, putting my feet down to slow my speed. When I stopped, Declan was still standing on the sidewalk watching me, just a few feet further away.

“I would hope that you, of all people, would have enough respect for me and what I went through to know better.”

The words struck him like a slap across the face. He looked more than hurt, but I was, too.

“He apologized, Sawyer. He didn’t know...”

“And because he apologized, that’s supposed to make it better? Some half-hearted ‘sorry’ thrown out a window while he tried to coax me into his car on a busy street in downtown L.A.?”

“He’s trying–,”

“No. He feels guilty because I’m here instead of safely tucked 5,000 miles away in a town he couldn’t be fucked to visit. He’s not sorry. He’s saving face.”

I wasn’t sure if Declan was incapable of answering or had simply chosen not to. Either way, when I pushed off the ground this time, I didn’t stop.

I had never been particularly athletic. In my days in Chicago, everywhere you went you had to walk or take the subway. In Holmes Chapel, I preferred to bike place to place but was often stifled by the rain.

So I took my time getting back to the apartment. I pedaled up a few blocks, riding to remember how. I went at a leisurely pace, not straying from the sidewalk as I tested the waters. When I’d finally worked out all my adrenaline from the fight, I thought about the unpacking I had yet to do and began to head in the direction of the apartment, doing my best to push my anger into the back of my mind.

If I could only push my way through the living room to the back hall, I’d be okay. I could ignore the two idiots sharing a couch in my living room watching football and would be safe to do what I pleased.

This is what I repeated to myself as I locked my bike on a rack near the sidewalk and ran a hand through my hair, sucking in a breath to find the courage to walk up and enter the code for the gate. These were the words I chanted as I made my way up the stairs and pushed my key in the door.

I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of him.

I wondered if I ever would be, especially when his bright green eyes caught mine from across the room. I forced my gaze from his face to look at Declan as the door shut behind me. He offered me a small smile and I considered ignoring him, but decided to return it half-heartedly instead. Despite my effort, I was sure it came off looking more like a twitch of the mouth than anything.

He was wearing those skinny jeans, the ones with the rips, and a Brazil jersey. I noted that Declan had yellow and green beads around his neck to get in the spirit of the game.

“Sawyer.”

My name fell from Harry’s mouth like a greeting, but the tone of his voice sounded like he wanted to say more after it. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, offput by the way he was looking at me.

“I’m going to go unpack some of my things,” I stated, not sure who I was directing it at. As I spoke, I took a step forward, but tripped over a pair of shoes. Tumbling less than gracefully onto the floor, my hand reached out automatically to break my fall, but I landed on my wrist awkwardly and winced. I held my other hand to massage it, eyes searching for what had caused my fall, and landed on a pair of scuffed brown boots.

I looked up to Harry’s concerned face. I’d missed the part where he’d gotten up and crossed the room in the few moments it took me to hit the ground.

“I am so sorry,” he told me, leaning down to my level. He had always spoken slowly, but the words lingered on longer than usual this time, emphasizing every word. He was apologizing for his boots being in the way, but the way his eyes bore into mine made me think he was apologizing for more than that.

Unfortunately for him, no apology could make up for the four years I’d had.

He was offering me his hand, but I wasn’t about to accept it. Instead, I tried to push up off the ground on my own, but my hurt wrist buckled beneath my weight. His hand was already wrapped around my arm and pulling me up before I had the chance to register it.

“You alright?” he asked, his fingers brushing the skin of my arm as he moved down toward my wrist. He held it, pressing lightly as if to test it. I was so stunned it took me a moment to jerk it away. When I did, he blinked in surprise, but didn’t seem otherwise fazed by my reaction.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, stepping around him to begin toward my room.

“Have you eaten? We have Chinese.”

I paused for a moment.

It was true that I hadn’t eaten since the Poptart I’d inhaled in my desperation for sugar this morning. My stomach felt hollow and Chinese takeaway sounded like a small taste of heaven, but I was weighing whether or not it was worth sitting in the presence of Harry and Declan for.

“Have some food, Sawyer. We knew you hadn’t eaten, so we ordered extra,” came Declan’s voice, calling from the couch where his eyes were glued to the TV screen. When I turned, Harry was still standing with his eyes on me.

“There’s chicken lo mein,” Harry told me with a smile.

Immediately following the look I cut him, he realized this was the wrong thing to say. I wondered for a moment whether or not it was worth it to ask how he’d remembered my takeout order but had forgotten how to pick up a phone for four years.

I decided it wasn’t since he knew why I hated him. On top of that, my stomach chose that exact moment to let out a sound so loud that even Declan turned to send me a smirk. With a sigh, my hand found its way to my hair, something I’d always done when stressed or nervous. A moment later, I was walking into the kitchen and pulling open a carton of lo mein noodles.

Eating in my room had been common when I still lived in England, but I felt uncomfortable with it now, despite how badly I wanted to escape the scrutiny of the two boys waiting for me in the living room. My comforter was white and unforgiving and I had a habit of missing my mouth, so I sucked in a deep breath and walked back into the living area.

Declan was completely engrossed in whatever was happening on the telly, his eyes zeroed in as he leaned forward on his elbows, legs bouncing up and down in anticipation. Harry was sitting in a similar position, but I didn’t miss his eyes flickering to me when I re-entered the room. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable it made me.

There was a larger table set up behind the couch, intended for larger groups or parties, I supposed. It would have made the perfect beer pong table in its length, but I set my carton of food down and pulled our a chair.

Neither boy made a comment to me as I sat quietly behind them, chowing down on Chinese food and watching the game with mild interest. Just as I wasn’t athletic, I wasn’t much interested in sports either, though I’d watched a couple of matches on Harry’s living room couch during the time we’d been together. The memory of it made me frown.

More times than I was comfortable with, I could feel Harry’s gaze, but I chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, I kept my eyes focused on my chopsticks, only looking up when Declan let out a hoot of celebration or a string of curses at whatever call the ref made.

When I was finished, I strode across the room to throw the carton in the trash and booked it to the safety of my room.

The day was still hot, which left me no option to open my window. I’d have to leave the door cracked for the sake of air conditioning, but the noise from the game could still be heard. For the sake of my own sanity, I pulled out my iPod and plugged it into the small portable set of speakers I’d brought with me during the move. The music was soothing, loud enough to drown out the noise from the living room and distract my mind from the boy in a room just ten feet away.

I let Spotify shuffle my starred playlist as I sat down on my floor and pulled everything from my bag, sorting them into different piles categorized by purpose. Most of my toiletries had already been unpacked and resided in the bathroom, but not much else had been seen since I’d fled the country.

My clothes were laying in a pile just to my left, a decent amount of them stacked high. It was a small wardrobe, but I was prepared to do a little bit of shopping when I found the time. Until then, it would do.

An embarrassing amount of books were laying on my bed, thrown up there haphazardly as I’d dug through the contents of my duffel. Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Of Mice and Men, The Lord of The Rings, The Book Thief, and Cat’s Cradle all intermingled there, and I wondered briefly if I’d overdone it before dismissing it immediately. These weren’t books; they were companions.

Besides bras and underwear, all I had left to dig out was a single photo album, filled to the point of bursting with what had been shoved in there. I’d had my reservations about even bringing it, but knew I couldn’t do without. Despite the fact that all I wanted to do was forget the past, I couldn’t part with it. So instead, I shoved it beneath my bed for my weaker moments.

Standing, I examined the mess I’d created. I started to fold up my duffel to shove in the closet when one of my favorite songs started and I couldn’t help the smile that overcame my face. I reached over to turn up the song, nodding my head along to the beat as I got to work sorting out my bras and underwear, each in a respective drawer in the dresser.

I only made it through the first verse before I had to dance. The chorus was my favorite part, and I was in the process of collecting my shirts from the floor when it hit. After that, my mouth couldn’t be stopped from mouthing along to the lyrics of the second verse.

Afterlife. I think I saw what happens next. Oh, it was just a glimpse of you, like looking through a window or a shallow sea. Could you see me?

Shoving my shorts into another drawer, I was left with only the books. As I contemplated what to do with them, my eyes landed on a shelf above my bed that housed nothing but a vase of fake flowers. Climbing atop, I moved it to my bedside table and began to arrange my books in a way that was both pleasing to the eye, yet practical.

Can we just work it out? Scream and shout ’till we work it out? But you say “Oh, when love is gone, where does it go?” And you say...

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when I’d started jumping on my bed, but it felt good. I’d had all this pent-up aggression and releasing it by singing and dancing to one of my favorite songs felt more than great. It was the first time since arriving in L.A. that I felt somewhat hopeful.

So I jumped. And I twirled. And I shook my hair. And I sang.

Can we work it out? If we scream and shout ’till we work it out. Can we just work it out? Scream and shout ’till we work it out?

By the end of the song, I was sore and panting. The exertion of it mixed with the earlier bike ride and my fall through the living room had me exhausted again and I fell down to sit, my legs crossing as I pushed my hair from my face and tried to catch my breath.

My eyes darted suddenly to the crack in the doorway where I could see a sliver of the hallway. I’m not sure what I thought I saw from my peripheral vision, but whatever it had been, shadow or ghost, was gone now. I frowned, paranoid, and let my body fall backward into the comfort of my bed as the next song started and I tried to cling to the feeling of being okay.