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Grey shakes his head, worry lines mapping his forehead as he frowns.“What’s going on?You look concerned.”
“More like disappointed,” I murmur.“San left without saying goodbye.”
“He left you a note,” he points out, his gaze landing on the crumpled paper in my grip.
“You saw him leave?”Surprise leaks into my voice, my eyebrows arched in question.
He rubs the back of his neck, a telltale sign of discomfort.“Yeah, let’s say we didn’t sleep all night,” he answers casually.
The sudden spike of worry sends a jolt through me.“Why didn’t you wake me up?I could’ve been there for you,” I blurt out, thoughts of him having nightmares and battling them alone crashing into my mind.
But it’s his sheepish expression that makes me stop in my tracks, instantly providing an answer I didn’t expect.
“Sleep isn’t what we were missing,” he admits.
I snap, my frustration overriding my concern.“Sex is not the answer to your problems.”
His shrug is nonchalant, but his eyes tell a different story.“It’s the one thread between San and me that hasn’t snapped,” he answers.“We ...we needed each other—it.My soul was bleeding, and maybe so was his.”
Speechless, I let his words hang in the air.It’s a side of their relationship I don’t fully comprehend.Sanford gave me his version, and it doesn’t sound romantic or logical.
“You’re sizing me up,” he points out, a sour note creeping into his voice.“And I do it too, you know.I judge myself.He’s just like a drug to me.He’s an addiction—I can’t quit him.”
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts.“I can’t deconstruct your relationship with Sanford and try to make sense of it.It’s clear there was so much pain that talking became impossible.Yet, the love between you two never faded.”
A pang of doubt hits me.Maybe I’m the one who shouldn’t be here.The first time I met them, I felt like I was the third wheel.Someone coming in the middle of their friendship.But I soon learned that I was wrong.
I can’t just walk away, not when we’re intertwined in such a profound way.I push aside those nagging doubts, recognizing the depth of our connection and what we once meant to each other.
Also, the raw honesty in Grey’s words draws me in, reminding me why I’m here—to understand, to connect, and perhaps, to heal.
“I just can’t understand the lack of communication.”
“We couldn’t speak because that would have implied saying your name, acknowledging that you were gone,” he reveals, the weight of his explanation evident in his eyes.
My confusion deepens.
“Yesterday was the first time we said your name out loud since ...”
“Why?”I probe.
He shrugs, discomfort clear in his eyes.“We didn’t know if you were safe or even alive.It hurt not having you.You were the missing piece, the heartbeat we had lost.It’s hard to explain.”
But maybe it’s not.I understand what it is to miss an intrinsic part of yourself.I know the agony of losing a piece of oneself, of gasping for breath in the vacuum of their absence.My only consolation was their music, replaying their concerts and hanging onto every word in their interviews.
“He’s not an addiction, Grey,” I gently assert, holding his gaze.“You frame him as one to justify pushing him away.He’s a part of you, like an arm or a leg.You can function without him, but you need his love for your soul to survive.You’re just in denial.”
He blinks, taken aback.“Why do you say that?”
Offering him a melancholic smile, I confess, “You think I haven’t missed you?That I moved on without any struggles?”My voice wavers, choked by the raw emotion welling up inside.
In an instant, he closes the space between us, pulling me into his embrace.“I would’ve given anything to be with you,” he murmurs.“To take your place.”
His confession washes over me.
“I know,” I say.“What frustrates me is coming home and witnessing the damage Enya left in you, not knowing how to restore the spark I remember.”
“Dance for me,” he whispers, his voice a gentle caress against my ear.
