Page 65 of Your Only Fan
I navigate the roads only half-paying attention, which I really shouldn’t be doing, but I can’t concentrate and I need to get home so I can eat my weight in junk and try to forget what I have lost.
Because of my stupidity.
When I finally reach Vaughn Street, it’s dark out and all the street lights have come on, but they do little in giving any sort of luminance around them. Fitting.
My driveway looms in the distance, and as I approach it and turn my car in to park it, my beams light up my front door. And him.
Ezra is sitting on my porch, two bags beside him, elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched.
What’s he doing here?
There’s a bump and I hit the brakes.
“Fuck!” I shout at the dent on my garage door.
Well, I guess that’s also fitting for how I’m feeling.
I put the car in park and get out. Ezra stands up but doesn’t move toward me. He watches me with hands crossed in front of his stomach.
“W-what are you doing here?” I ask when I’m only a few feet away.
“Hey,” he says with a frog in his throat.
His gaze is burning at my face, the intensity crushing me even more.
“If you’re here to shout at me some more, please… save it,” I say.
I don’t hide the sadness on my face. I can’t. And I need him to know I’m not lying. I already feel like shit. He doesn’t need to make me feel worse.
I walk past him, aiming for my door, but I never get to it. He grabs my arm and stops me in my tracks, making me face him.
“What—” I start.
His lips cut me off. They attack mine with a ferocity I haven’t seen in him before. His other hand comes up on my nape and presses me harder to him.
I stare at him the whole time even though his eyes are closed. And then he releases me, and I can breathe again.
“What was that for?” I ask.
Is he trying to torture me? To punish me? I’d rather he shouted at me.
“That was because… I’m in love with you,” he says, words barely a whisper. Did I hear right? “I-I’m in love with you. Even after everything that’s happened.” This time he’s louder, yet I still don’t know if I’m imagining things.
Did my crush on the garage door send me into a coma? Am I dreaming? Hallucinating?
“O-okay,” I fumble when I finally find my voice.
Ezra takes a deep breath. I take another. We watch each other, but neither of us says anything for what feels like hours.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asks finally.
“Wh-what should I say?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something? Anything?”
I don’t know what he expects me to do. I don’t even know what he expects himself to do.
“Why are you here? Are you here to hurt me?”
