Why I Love Him

Chapter Eighteen

I woke up the next morning and freaked out when I saw the time on the clock sitting on the bedside table. It was past ten in the morning and I was supposed to be at work at nine. As I hurried into my clothes from yesterday and made my way out into the hallway, I bumped into Wayne on the way, and he held on to me, telling me that he had already called in sick for me.

"Oh thanks," I said, taking in deep breaths before looking down at the hallway carpet. I didn't feel like looking at Wayne. A part of me was afraid that I would start crying and get a headache trying to rationalize all the things that had happened between us. Wayne sighed, he must have been frustrated by my refusal to make eye contact with him.

"Can you spare me a look? One at least?" he begged, and after some hesitation, I decided to look at him. His green eyes were red on the sides, and the way his lips twisted into a slightly defeated smile made my heart ache.

"I've messed up, haven't I?" He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me. I didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet, moving my gaze to the carpet again as I rubbed my arms.

"I made breakfast, you should have some," he mumbled breaking the silence before slipping passed me. I listened for the sound of his indoor slippers dragging on the carpet, and I shut my eyes when I heard his bedroom door bang shut. I swallowed the spit that had been collecting in the back o my throat before as I looked out ahead.

What am I supposed to do now? I wondered, making my way into the living room before heading to the kitchen. I wanted to go home, but I felt too exhausted, and I wasn't sure what Wayne would think if he came out of his room and found me nowhere in sight.

Edward. Edward's face formed in my head as I checked the covered plate Wayne had left on the kitchen counter. Wayne had made eggs and bacon, and although I was hungry, I didn't feel too enthusiastic about eating. I picked up the plate anyway and made myself some toast to go along with it. As I nibbled on the toast and pushed my eyes around with a fork, I thought about Edward again.

He must be worried about me. I should check my phone. I paused chewing to stare down at my plate. The hand that had a hold on the fork was shaking. I'm shaking? I wondered, frowning. I guess I was nervous, but I couldn't pinpoint what for.

An odd rush ran through me, making me get up to clean up after myself before heading back to the guest room to look for my phone. It was on top of the dresser like I had left it. Unlocking the screen, I found a text from work and a handful of messages and missed calls from Edward.

Message from: Edward.

Are you with him?

10:02 PM.

Message from: Edward.

I hope things work out for both of you.

11:03 PM.

I read the most recent two messages, and a lump formed in my throat at the most recent one of the two. My eyes felt teary, and I was having a hard time controlling my breathing. Why did the message make me upset? Edward didn't know what Wayne was hiding — I wasn't even upset because I remembered Wayne. As I stood there by the dresser frowning down at my phone screen, I knew that deep down that wasn't even what I was upset about.

It was something else.

"s**t," I cursed under my breath, trying to calm down as the realization hit me. I was upset because Edward's messages made it sound like he was giving up on me.

I didn't want that.

My reaction told me I really didn't want that.

I started to run my fingers through my hair as I tried to calm myself down. I had to leave. I knew Edward worked night shifts from Monday to Wednesday, and that if I hurried, I could catch up to him in the apartment before he left for the gym like he normally did in the mid-day. I had about two hours till twelve, and I could make it back on time taking public transport with no problem.

"Wayne," I called in a low voice, looking over at the open guest room door.

"Wayne," I repeated in a firmer more assured voice as I marched out of the guest room and walked down the hallway before halting in front of his bedroom door.

"Wayne!" I called out again, knocking on his door as the sound of blood pumping through me filled my ears. I had to do this. I had to do this now unless I wouldn't have the will to in the future

I needed to clearly end things.

I needed Wayne to leave me alone so that my mind wasn't blurry and fogged up when I was trying to make sense of things and move forward.

The door of Wayne's room flung open after a while of me knocking and calling out to him. He was staring at me with wide confused eyes, and I stared right back at him with a determined look on my face.

"We're through," I said in a low pitch, but high enough for Wayne to make out my words. His face contorted into a sad expression. He blinked rapidly, seemingly trying to control the tears that were threatening to fall free.

"I just–I just can't anymore," I muttered, watching Wayne's eyes move to the carpet as he made to hug himself. He looked small in his loose pajamas. He rested his weight on one side and then the other as if posturing himself for the rest of my words.

"I understand," he said when I didn't say anything else. He took deep breaths after the other, still blinking. "I was expecting this, but it still hurts," he admitted, and for a moment I felt sorry — sorry that we couldn't make things work, and sorry that he had moved all the way here for nothing. I looked away from him, staring down at the carpet too as I listened to his occasional sniffles and sighs.

"I'm thankful for all the help you've been giving me," I started, finding the voice to finish what I had started, "but I don't want you to keep helping me. I don't want anything that'll make me feel like I'm indebted to you. We can still be friends, just don't, you know... That makes sense, right?" I asked — my voice cracked, and my eyes started to tear up as I thought about everything that's happened in the past few months.

"Right," Wayne repeated, and I forced myself to smile a little before daring to close the space between us to give him a brief hug. When I pulled away from Wayne, he had an equally sad smile on his face. A pained expression danced in his eyes, and I'm sure my eyes looked just as lost and confused about the future. I've loved him for five years, of course, what was happening was sad and confusing. I couldn't even find the words to describe the intensity of the feeling of dread and panic in me. I was leaving something that hurt me, yes, but it was something I've known for so long. There was comfort in familiarity, and I was losing that. It's been so long that I was hesitant to explore something else.

"I'm leaving," I let out, watching as worry took form on Wayne's face.

"I'm taking the transit, don't worry," I said, and that seemed to calm him down. I turned away from him, heading to the guest room to pick up my things before leaving Wayne's house.

For a moment on my train ride home, I wondered if I was making the right choice, but on getting home and catching Edward on the stairs just before he left for the gym, I knew I did make the right choice. The mere sight of him had my stomach twist up in nerves, and made my face burn from warmth. I'd never felt love that wasn't attached to a tinge of pain and fear before, and here it was, in plain sight.

"Johnathan?" Edward's tone matched the puzzled look on his face when we made eye contact. His dark wavy hair was under a face cap, and he was carrying a gym bag by the strap.

"What are you doing here?" I thought you were with Wayne?" he asked, already making a fuzz about the situation as he walked down the stairs to meet me on the ground floor.

"I love you," I said, my voice clear and loud. The second voice hanging like a hook in the air, or maybe the word love was just ringing in my head.

Edward stopped in his tracks, only a few steps away from me. His brown eyes were wide with shock, and his thick brows had knitted into a confused from. His lips seemed to quiver, but he didn't get anything out of his mouth except surprised sighs and gasps.

But I didn't mind. I bit down on my lower lip, watching him soak up the news — waiting patiently for him to vocalize his reaction.