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Not that I’m salty about that or anything.
Now, I type.
Me
What the fuck is up with your ‘friendship’ with Mia?
He’s still exchanging pleasantries with the girl as he takes out his phone from his pocket. His smile disappears upon looking at the screen and I take pride in how he looks a bit distraught at receiving a text from me.
There are more emotions in his face now than in the past hour. And yes, I’ve been here for that long.
Call it an unhealthy fucking obsession.
He distances himself from the girl—in your face—and leans against a table, ankles crossed, as he continues staring at the screen. He does that for a full fucking minute. I know, because I’m looking at the time.
Finally, my phone lights up.
Bran
We’re just friends. We love gaming.
Dry as the fucking desert.
Bran remains in the same position, watching his phone. From the outside looking in, he seems composed and unaffected, but the fact that he’s waiting is a sign of his messed-up equilibrium.
Me
You want me to believe that?
Bran
Why wouldn’t you?
The fact that you suspiciously became friends with MY sister? How do I know you won’t use her to get revenge against me or as your fucked-up version of camouflage like you did with Clara?
He glares at his phone and I can see the fire spreading from his eyes in waves.
Bran
I won’t do that. Mia is really just a friend. Besides, why would I want revenge against you? We’re already over, aren’t we?
As I read his text, I watch him pulling at the hairs on his nape, his face tight, his shoulders hunched.
And the scene does something to me.
I know I’m falling back into the same pattern that I left—or pretended to. I’m letting him have his way because I can’t fucking stay away from him.
Because ever since I sent him that text, I’ve been thinking about him more than if I were meeting him every day.
Because I haven’t been able to fucking breathe since he disappeared, and now, I watch dumb Agatha Christie episodes because they remind me of him trying to explain the bland characters.
Me
Do you want it to be over?
He stares at the phone, lips parting, and the incessant pulling at his hair comes to an abrupt halt.
Bran
