Delirious | completed

it is always late at night that loneliness strikes. sometimes hope likes to cloud your brain, and nostalgia holds you close, whispering sweet nothings. sometimes hope squeezes out rationale and leads you to a place that you wouldn't usually wander, but that's what it does.

this is one of those times.

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2. wasted

 

HE DOESN'T ANSWER. it is not because he doesn’t want to. it’s because he doesn’t know what to say. in his drunk mind, it’s now or never. it is four am and he is wandering the streets alone, armed with his mysterious potion. the lights above him are flickering much like his heart. he doesn’t know what to feel. the alcohol makes him sway, makes his world a bit less straight and makes his thoughts bounce from one extreme to the other.

he is sure that she is the one for him. he is sure that he was sculpted in order to be in her arms. he glances at his phone.

oh phew i got worried for a sec haha

is it too late to reply? his fingers hover above his phone, ready to do whatever he wants. his fingers hover over the call button, and in a moment of absolute insanity, he presses it. there are moments that feel like they shouldn’t last forever but they do. this is one of them.

did u get the wrong number again?

he wants to tell her no. she has every right to be mad at him, after all, he’s the one who messed up. yet she still let him in her life, still spoke to him like nothing was wrong even though he could feel the gap between them.

I lied before

he waits. the wind picks up, throwing the branches around him yet he stays still. his phone is his only anchor. she is his anchor. she is the only one that makes sense when the world does not.

you’re still drunk aren’t you

he smiles. it isn’t a question – it’s a fact. despite the wind dragging its claws down the pavement, dragging everything down with it, his hands still fly across the keyboard. she is his anchor. he will stay rooted for her.

the texts

his heart is excited. it bubbles through his entire being. he cannot tell if it is the effect of the alcohol in his system but his smile grows farther than ever. he looks up, straight across the street. he sees her. or, so he thinks. the mirage of her stands ignorant of the destruction around her. he is sure that this is the right time to tell her. that he loves her. he’s always loved her.

read at 4:15am

he’s faced this obstacle before. he continues typing, convinced that he can make her listen. the smile starts to hurt his cheeks as he ignores the sirens whirling past him. the outside world is of no interest to him. his entire world is on the other end of this phone.

you’re my genesis.

you’re the reason why i’m excited to get up in the mornings.

each day i’m looking forward to seeing your face because your smile

 it lights up the room

you light up my life

and since you’ve been gone things haven’t been the same

 

he waits.

and waits.

and waits.

 

the world has stopped spinning. words have never been his forte. his chest tightens. his organs feel weird. this alcohol doesn’t feel so comforting anymo-

 

his phone falls from his pocket. the alcohol falls from his mouth, mixed in with the food from earlier and probably his heart too. he coughs violently. if his heart didn’t fall out before, it definitely is on its way there.

 

how do i know that this isn’t a lie?

 

his throat didn’t burn as much now. the pain in his stomach has subsided. he knows what she’s asking: ‘how do i know you won’t hurt me again?’ he wants to tell her that he will treat her like a newly bought vase of flowers. he wants to promise that he will water her every day for the rest of his life. but he knows that isn’t the truth. he knows there will be some days that he will forget. there will be days where something else will capture his attention. there will be a time when the vase starts to crack and he’ll forget to fix it.

 

he doesn’t know how to answer her. words were never his forte. he was much better at actions. after all, actions speak louder than words.

 

meet me outside

what?

i’m running to see you rn

 

he knows the directions like the back of his hand. the minute he enters her street, he is slammed by nostalgia. it stops him in tracks.

 

typing…

typing…

typing…

 

the streetlights make his head hurt. through blurry vision he watches the two figures at the end of the path kiss. he watches as she cradles his face like this is the last time she’d see him and she wants to remember. he watches as he looked down at her like a conquered castle with nothing to offer anymore. the battle had been won and he is a daring adventurer with a thirst for more. he is not going to sit around and rebuild his kingdom. he wants more than her.

 

she is his genesis, yes, but she is not his ending.

 

he longs for her to be his ending. it’d be easier that way. how dare he hope for a wish like that. how dare he hope that this girl, this girl who he’s loved since the dawn of time, be the only one for him. if he had a choice, he’d pick her. he’d always try to pick her.

 

he places a foot in front of him. he hesitates. he takes it back. the street seems longer, more daunting this time. it seems never-ending. fear clutches his body and forces him to twist his body around.

 

he cranes his neck, casting one last glance back at the house l and walks away. 

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