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There's a plea in his voice as his hand comes to my face, turning me to look at him. And yup, just like I thought, his touch undoesme. The tears I've been able to hold back flood my eyes now, making his face blurry.
"Don't say had, please. I'm begging you. Don't think this is the end of us. I don't know what I would do without you, and I know Zek feels the same. I know it. It's in his every word and action."
"Yeah, well, what I heard his words say loud and clear in that car was that he doesn't love me, doesn't trust me, and doesn't want me." I turn the knob and open the door. His hand slips from my face as I step away. "I need you to go. Just go."
I hate that his crestfallen face makes me want to reach for him, to tell him this will somehow be okay in the end. But I don't know how. I can't see how. Not after everything Ezekiel said. Not when I know I can't have one brother without the other.
"I don't want to hurt you, Jer," I croak. "I swear I don't. But I can't stay with you and him, not after what he said."
"I won't let you go, Lexa," he says.
I gather every bit of resolve in me to reply, "You're gonna have to."
I hear a door close and my eyes snap to Ezekiel standing beside the path now. I thought I longed for him to be standing right beside Jeremiah, telling me it was all a lie. Pleading for me not to give up on us. But now that I see him taking his first steps up the pathway, I realize I was wrong. I don't want to look at him. I don't want to hear his voice. I don't want his platitudes and excuses. Anger takes over long enough for me to drag my luggage inside. Jeremiah turns his head to look at Ezekiel over his shoulder, and I, cowardly, use that moment to enter my apartment.
"Leave, Jeremiah. And take him with you."
Jeremiah's eyes meet mine as his mouth opens, but I never hear what he has to say because I close the door in his face. I’m unable to move away from it. Not even as I hear Jeremiah and Ezekiel begin to argue on the other side of it. I squeeze my eyes shut as they curse back and forth at each other. Half of me wants Ezekiel to beat this door down and take me in his arms, kiss away this pain. The other half wants Jeremiah to do as I said and leave, taking his brother with him.
"I just need to talk to her," Ezekiel says.
"You've done enough fucking talking, don't you think?" Jeremiah spits back. "She doesn't wanna hear a word from you right now, so respect that."
There’s silence for a little while before I hear gravel under shoes. I open my eyes and stare at the white paint until I can no longer hear it, until I can feel that they're gone. Only then do I let the tears fall. Only then do I release the shuddering breath that's been trapped in my chest since I heard Ezekiel's words. Only then do I let the pain overwhelm me.
Two days later and I still don't feel like the heartache is done with me. I haven't done anything more than eat, although I can hardly taste the food, or take a shower, even though it becomes me standing under the water while I cry. And I sleep, even though that takes hours to come and provide me any relief from this constant pain.
I haven't even unpacked my luggage, only getting my toothbrush and phone charger out of it. I regret doing even that now though, as another text from Jeremiah comes through. I only know it's him from his name flashing across the screen with the incoming text, but, like all the others since he and Ezekiel walked away from my door, I don't open the message. I don't even pick up myphone to unlock it and see if Ezekiel's texted me too. I know he hasn't, only making all of this worse.
Does he not even care that he can clearly see his brother texting me in our group chat and me not responding? Does he feel no regret for the things he said? Has he, at all, changed his mind and decided that no, I'm not their ex and did not at all deserve the things he said? I don't know, and I'm trying to convince myself that I don't want to know, either. I'm only lying to myself though. Because pain that I swore I would never allow myself to feel or not, I love Ezekiel. I love Jeremiah. And I want them here right now, even if it would only be while they hold me in silence as I persuade myself that I'm not a fool for falling for them. I want Jeremiah to keep texting, even though I know I can't read his words because it'll only make the pain worse. Even though I know I can no longer have him, and that whatever he's saying, however sweet it is because I know it will be, can't mean what I want it to now. I was afraid of Jeremiah ending up caught in the middle of two heartless people. Now, he's caught in the middle of one brokenhearted person and one who's denying he has a heart to feel anything at all.
My phone rings and I absolutely hate the way my eyes cut to it, hoping it says either of their names, even if I have no intention of picking up a call from them. It says my mother's name instead, though.
"Of course. It's Sunday," I mumble to myself.
I'd forgotten. I put my phone back down, but then I remember the last time I missed our call. She'd called a few more times, texted even, and when I hadn't responded, she'd driven three hours to make sure I was okay. I don't want to do that to her again, nor do I want her showing up. So, I pick up the phone again, clearing my throat as I swipe the screen, but I can still hear the croak in my voice when I greet her.
"Hey, Mom."
She doesn't notice I've been crying at all, because she's crying herself.
"Oh, Lexa. He left me," she sobs.
I have heard this same sound, these same words, so many times in my life. Have seen the tears run down her cheeks. Have seen her beside herself that yet another great love had ended. I don't have the energy, nor the patience, for it today, but still, I close my eyes, preparing to utter the words I have each and every time before.
"What happened?"
"He said I was too clingy, needed too much of his attention and time. Me,clingy, Lexa."
I sigh low enough for her not to hear me. She can be clingy, but I've also always felt it was because she was desperately trying to hang on to the wrong men.
"I told him I could change, demand less of him but he—"
"Why should you, Mom?" I cut her off.
"Wh-what?" she croaks.
"Why should you have to change? Why should you have to shrink yourself down to be what he needs? Why can't he be the one to give you more, instead? Why do you always change yourself for them, but never expect them to change for you?"
