A short.
He didn't even realy know how he made it there, but regardless he was walking down her hallway. It had been more than five years since he had seen her and he was afraid to. He tried to focus on the soft jingling sound that his coat made, a long black leather trench with more than a few small metal pieces dangling from it. For someone who didn't think piercings were for him he sure loved those baubles.
He hadn't made it three more doors when he was back to thinking about it again. The last time that he had contacted her he had only recieved a message with three words. "No I Don't." He had asked for contact information for one of their mutual old friends and as well was pretty sure that he had put something personal in it.
After all, no matter how hard he tried, he always did.
A baby cried somewhere behind one of these doors, soon being comforted by their mother, only serving to bring back to memory the last time he rembered them laying together. Even without any words she had comforted him, but in the end she was a woman and he had only been a boy. Their age difference was not great, only a few years in fact, but the amount of life experience had made a gap between them that it seemed would never be spanned.
He shook his head, tossing away the memory of those comfortable times, that was the last thing he needed right now. He always focused the best under pressure, everyone that knew him knew that. If left in a comfortable situation he could become complacent, but give him terrifying action and as they say, it was on.
Depression seemed to follow in his path, at least that was what he thought as soft music drifted through the cracks in one of the doors. "I let a stranger love me, I gave away my pride. I bit my lips so I could block my mind..." He knew the song well, a wry smile crossed his face as he thought of how fitting the radio was, no matter your mood it was always there to make it more extreme.
He thought about pausing and looking to it, listening to those words flow through him once again. The song was about never being able to replace a part of your heart that was gone and, of course, that's why he was here in the first place. He kept walking though, he needed to focus on her or he'd never be able to raise his hand to the door. As he walked away the music sounded after him, as if trying to catch up just like his memory always did. "I've called your name to others, just like a spinal cord. Severed and broken but the spark still tries..."
He felt the same torrent of emotions as always as he passed the fourth door from hers. Anger at being left in such a way, anger that would seethe and rise only to be washed away by. Sadness as deep as the sea, a rolling tide of depression that could almost bring a man to his knees just as he had fallen before her that day, pushed aside by. Depression that gripped his heart, cold tendrils of shame and disgrace at all that he had done in the name of love. Turned on her, betrayed her, left her. It's no wonder she had gone.
He was gasping now, his hand on the wall just barely keeping him from collapse as he dealt with the terror. He had never turned on her, only been scared of losing her. He had never betrayed her, just tried to make her happy by giving her what she said she wanted. He had never left her, just tried to move on after she had left him, however badly he had failed.
"Are you okay buddy?" His eyes opened wide, his back jerking upwards so fast the man nearly leapt out of his skin. His spine straightened, his muscles clenched, his whole body all at once resisted the ability to ever be seen as weak. His tortured grimace twisted quickly into a convincing smile, his free hand slowly raising up to give the guy a 'thumb's up' signal.
"I'm good, just swallowed wrong is all. Chest pain, you know the deal." He laughed lightly and, as always, so did the man. "Hell, in forty years every time I swallow wrong I'll be sent to the hospital. Might as well get it all done now." It made no sense even as a joke, just an inane statement, but it worked with the proper smile and sincere voice behind it.
"Ha! That's good. Well you do that then. Later." The man strolled out of view, opening his door and stepping inside to kiss his wife which held their baby comforted in her capable arms. The moment the man left his view he forgot everything about him. That's just the way he wanted it.
Looking up he saw that he was at a door.
It was the door.
It was hers.
It seemed like a shapeless mass of green paint had been splattered upon it, his hand which was against it could feel the contour of the uneven strokes under his palm. He moved his hand and the imprint of his sweat remained, and for a moment it was almost all of him that did. His heart didn't beat loudly in his chest, but instead slowed. Had he already knocked? He had, she didn't answer, she was not even home, he should go.
His thoughts went that perfect straight line to fear and flight, but as he went to move his feet his heart willled him to stop. He willed himself to stop.
"No." he said, his words were quiet as a whisper. He could feel the fear threatening to choke him up, the despair reached up again to grip him. This time he blinked, and it was gone. He was set, he would do it.
His hand shook as it raised, his chin quivered slightly as he licked his lips. He didn't even know what she would look like now... Lost weight, gained weight. She always changed her hair color at random so who knew. She had always kept it short before, but would it be long now? What would he say? He choked the life out of the final question, put it's body in a blue bag, dragged it up a really long hill, and threw it into a river.
'Never ask that question.' he said to himself. 'You won't say anything.'
His left eye twitched, he almost laughed as she was the only person to really make him do that. All the rest was faked. Then, she was the only person to make him do alot of things... He final conceded to his conscience, all the rest had ben faked.
His hand never came into contact with that door though. I am sad to say that neither did she open it before he could knock. He had a saying. "There are two plans that never work. Best laid plans and best plans to get laid." and this had never been more true than now. It didn't work at all.
"Can I help you?"
Her voice still had an edge to it, still sent shivers up his spine, still made his stomach literally quiver, and now made his head turn slowly.
She hadn't been home, but she was now.
He turned.