I feel dizzy, and I feel myself falling to the floor.
It feels like the whole world tilts.
Like the air leaves the room and takes me with it.
I put my hands on the floor and let my neck give out.
My vision is playing games with me, like someone is playing with the light switch.
“Luca…” I whisper, my throat raw.
He looks at me.
The storm in his eyes is calm, but it’s there.
The ocean is no longer calm and peaceful.
I feel like I’m drowning, but this time no one is helping me out.
His eyes are wet, but his smile—his stupid, soft smile—stays. “It’s okay, Tilly. Really. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Don’t do that,” I say, my voice trembling. “Don’t pretend you’re fine.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I’m not pretending. I’m just done waiting for something that’s not meant to happen.”
That sentence splits me open.
“I didn’t mean to–”
“I know,” he says gently, cutting me off. “You never mean to.”
Silence.
The kind that makes your heart feel too big for your chest.
He looks down again, exhaling shakily. “I spent so long thinking maybe I just am not enough. That if I were better, funnier, calmer—whatever—you’d see me differently. But it’s not about that, is it? Some things just don’t fit, no matter how hard you want them to.”
My vision blurs.
I’m crying.
“Please don’t talk like that,” I whisper.
He smiled again, “I’ll be ok, Tilly. I always am.”
And then he brushes past me, gently, like I’m something fragile he’s afraid to break.
I don’t turn around.
I can’t.
I just stand there, staring at the wall, trying to swallow the ache clawing its way up my throat.
When I finally look over my shoulder, he’s gone.
My chest caves in.
It’s like the whole world goes silent except for the sound of my heartbeat, pounding way too fast, way too loud.
