But I'm in Love With You

If I could burn my memories, I would. If I could take a lighter to a series of photographs and words and music and everything I associate with him, I would. And if I could show you everything I’ve seen, you’d burn them too.

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11. #11

Scarlett

Several minutes later, there is a soft knock on the door and I crawl from bed, rubbing my eyes as I wander sleepily across the room to flip the lock.

He is wearing his glasses when I opened the door, and yet the exhaustion in their depths was undeniable – that, along with something else; something that struck me sad to the core. The red rings that circled his eyes were vibrant, like traffic lights in the streets below, and bags hung heavy beneath his eyes: he had been crying. Just as I had that day several weeks ago, when he had approached me in the dressing room, I reach up and loop my arms around his neck. Even if it would be harder to walk away, even if it would be harder, while I was here I wouldn’t let him stand alone. Not in such a shit storm like this one. Maybe it was because I was desperately trying to make up for not being there for my mother, for being never less than 100 miles away from her at the best of times, or maybe it was something else entirely. I didn’t know what.

His arms snake around my waist like ribbons, and he pulls me close; that all familiar sweetness of his cologne washes over my nose and mouth, and I drag it in. We stay this way for several moments, the dim lamps of the hall our only source of light, before I pull away. ‘You need to get some sleep.’ He nods vaguely, casting a hand across his face.

**

‘Scar?’ he whispers from the darkness. We were beneath the sheets now, and whilst I had my back to him, he had managed to entwine his fingers with my own. His were icy, and yet the grooves and ridges and slopes of his fingers rushed to flood my memory once more. I wondered for a brief moment how I had come to forget in the first instance.

‘Yes?’ I return.

‘Take me home,’ he murmurs.

I roll over, squint into the darkness. ‘What do you mean?’

There is a short moment of silence. ‘I’m dropping out of the rest of the U.S leg,’ he whispers. ‘I’m going home for awhile – come with me?’

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