Page 83 of Inevitable

“I'm transferring back to UNT.” The words tumbled out before I was aware I had thought them. Bash dropped my face and stumbled back as though he had touched acid.

“W-what? W-what do you m-mean you're going back to UNT?” he stammered, barely audible over the violent pounding of my heart against my ribcage. I braced myself against the onslaught of emotions hammering at my carefully built defenses.

“I can't stay here. I have no more fight in me and no more forgiveness to give…”

Bash was shaking his head almost unconsciously, almost as though his head refused to accept my words.

“We don't have anything left that's not tainted. No love, no relationship, no friendship…we have nothing left.”

“No, don't you say that! Please, don't say that, baby! Please…” Bash cried, clutching his chest as if that could physically stop the ache I knew was there because it was present in my own heart.

“It's over. I have nothing left to say to you.” My tone was brittle. I had only seconds before the dam burst and I didn't want him to see just how much I hated the words spilling from my lips. It was my turn to build lies between us, but they were lies of necessity. I needed him to hear them because it was the only way he'd let me go.

“Micah, for the love of God, please don't give up on me! Don't give up on us…” His voice was scratchy and wet, overwhelmed with sorrow at the bridge I was trying to burn. He came closer again, and his scent washed over me. It made me want to scream.

Scream that I still loved him, scream that I wanted to forgive him,scream that I was making a mistake.

But I didn't. I couldn't. The scream was trapped in my throat, strangled by my own pain and fear.

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, laying soft, wet kisses to my fist as he cried. “I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to drive you away…God, I'm so sorry…” he blubbered.

I had to close my eyes to block out the infinitely painful image, one that had the power to crumble every defense and safeguard I had left in my body. I gently pulled my hand out of his and took a step back. The gesture had an audible sob tearing from his throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the devastating sound. It was like a grater being run over my soul, shredding it into a bloody mess.

After what seemed an eternity, Bash steadied himself and forced his eyes to mine. We locked gazes and the world stood still. Time ceased to exist, reality fell away, and it was just the two of us. Broken and helpless, but still holding dominion over the other's heart. He could keep mine. I didn't want it back. If I couldn't be his, I didn't want anyone else.

Bash took one more deep breath, his eyes running over my face in a loving caress. Then, he nodded slowly and turned for the door. My lungs burned and my head grew dizzy as I absently noticed I had been holding my breath, waiting for it to be safe.

Before he reached for the doorknob, he turned over his shoulder one last time.

“I'll wait for you, Micah. Even if you are never mine again, I'll wait for you because I am yours. Only yours.”

I didn't even hear the door close behind him over the blood pounding in my ears and the sound of my heart screaming in my chest, begging me not to let him go.

But I did anyway.

*****

Grief is a weird thing. At first, it hits you hard enough to knock the wind out of you, painful enough to take you down. It steals your sanity and makes you doubt the life that comes after because it seems never-ending. It's merciless and unyielding. You logically know that it will end, as all things do, but in those days of torment you aren't entirely sure if you will be spared.

Then one day, you can breathe a little easier. You're cautiously hopeful that the worst has passed and you'll indeed survive the days ahead without succumbing to more heartache. It's a false sense of security that you've been lulled into, but you don't yet know it. It's awarm blanket that will be ripped off at a moment's notice that you don't see coming. Then, just as you think you will be okay, the grief returns. Wave after wave, disrupting the quiet times and feeding off any bit of happiness you managed to find. It's a parasite that eats away at who you once were and leaves someone wholly different in its wake. You're changed by it, weathered down and altered by the barrage of pain you've endured.

Some parts of you come back stronger, but other parts don't come back at all. It's a transformative sickness with no real cure but time. Even still, time only lessens the effects, but the grief will still be there, hidden in the tiny crevices of your head and heart as a permanent reminder. It's a constant companion.

It had taken nearly six weeks for the one day of easy breathing to arrive, my false blanket covering me to allow me some respite. It didn't last long when Dawson swung by with the remainder of my things from Bash's place. It had been a while before I could stomach getting it all back.

I was told Bash had moved out of his apartment over a week ago, opting not to renew his lease for another year. Something about hearing that dug into the wound that hadn't even begun to close over, but I wasn't completely sure why. Maybe it was the fact that his apartment had been the first place he stopped fighting his feelings for me, or where we had shared so many beautiful memories. His bedroom was supposed to be ours, and for a while it had actually felt like that. Maybe I saw it as a sign that he too was moving on with his life, and that knowledge came close to making my raw heart bleed.

Rhys didn't give me many details, whether he knew them or not, and I forced myself not to ask. It wasn't my place to worry about him anymore, and God knows I didn't need the reminders of him. He was in my bones, a friend for the grief burrowed deep within me. Bash was in every thought and every breath that entered my body. There was no getting rid of him, just as he had said that first night we made love. He marked my very soul and that wasn't something you could easily extract.

“Hey Micah, how you holding up?” Dawson asked, his deep timbre resonating in the room. He was always kind to me and I appreciated his reserved nature. He radiated calm control, and there was something comforting about it. I was strangely going to miss him when I left.

“I'm getting through the days. It's about all I can do, you know?” I answered truthfully. I was under no illusions about how poorly I was processing things. I wouldn't be feeling anything resembling happiness for quite some time. It came with the territory of losing your soulmate and best friend, not that there was a handbook or anything to tell me that. The gaping hole in my chest might have tipped me off though.

Dawson simply nodded and gave me a sympathetic smile. He set the box of my things down on the coffee table, and then gave me a nervous look. “I have something for you. It's from Bash, and before you automatically say no, I really think you should read it first.” He took out a white envelope tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, holding it out for me to take.

My fingers twitched, itching to grab it and see what Bash had written in an effort to feel close to him again. After great internal debate that lasted all of two seconds, I took the envelope from him. My name was written across the front in Bash's neat scrawl, and just seeing it had my vision going a little blurry.

“So look, I know it's not my place to say anything, but Bash knows he screwed up. Really. He's been a wreck ever since that day he came over to talk to you, but he's really trying. Started seeing a therapist the week after and has been going ever since. He wants to be better. And I get that I'm no relationship expert or anything, but I did see you two together and I can tell you're It. The real deal. I know Bash hurt you, but he's going to be the only one to heal it for you. Everything else you try to fix it with will ultimately fail because you can't heal when you're missing pieces of yourself, and Bash is your missing piece. You make each other whole. Just…think about it,” Dawson finished softly, his lips pressed into a tight, yet empathetic smile. He nodded once and moved toward the door.

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