tangled up in blue

16

funeral- phoebe bridgers

After about half an hour of us sitting on opposite ends of the door in silence, I'd shakily gotten up to move to my bed, curling up in the teal sheets. I had no idea if Jace was still outside, but I didn't care anymore. I turned off my phone after seeing it was full of worried texts from my friends, even Helena asking me how I was feeling. Replying to a few messages was the least I owed them, but I just... couldn't. Every part of me was tired, and even sleeping couldn't fix that.

Wallowing in self pity only made me loathe myself more. I couldn't turn my thoughts away from the fact that everyone must have been thinking how pathetic I was. A crying, shaking, pathetic mess. I mean, it wasn't even a big deal. It's not like I actually went underwater. I hadn't even realised I was afraid of it until it was right in front of me. I was a kid again, being laughed because I didn't quite fit anywhere. I was eighteen, and I still didn't.

I bet Jace hates you even more now.

I groaned, pushing my puffy face further into my pillow as if I could make the past twenty four hours suddenly disappear. As if I could stop being me for once. At least, for a little while, I got to pretend.

~~~

Jace

Regret had a taste, and it was bitter. I thought what I did would be lighthearted revenge for the pranks he'd been pulling, but after seeing the way he'd cried like he was genuinely afraid, I'd felt sick. I thought I didn't care about Noah or his feelings, but the guilt and worry I'd felt after seeing his delicate face breaking with sobs was due to more than just my families anger towards me. Lee had tried to come upstairs to comfort his best friend, but after seeing me with my head against the back of his bedroom door, he'd simply looked at me with a mixture of confusion and anger, and then walked away. I should have been used to that- the look people gave me. It never got easier, though. Being hated. Especially being hated by Noah Quinn.

Neither of us said anything, because there were no words that could make it better- even though I had a million questions. The air between us hung heavy with the weight of everything we wanted to say, but couldn't.

We both skipped dinner. I finally went back to my room after I heard him move, my back stiff from where I'd sat on the floor, listening to the sound of his breathing. As the sky grew dark, I could hear Noah playing some pathetically sad indie playlist as it wafted in through my open windows, mixing with the sweet smell of grapes. He was probably crying into his pillow, with the door barricaded so Lee couldn't get in. I was laying in bed, finding the ceiling extremely fascinating as I smoked and pretended that I wasn't thinking about the boy on the other side of the wall. But curiosity, in its cruelty, got the better of me.

I stepped out of the open windowed doors onto the balcony. Some of the gold fairy lights were still on, draped along the balcony and the branches near Noah's room. I crossed the space, the music growing closer. He was lying in bed, just like I'd predicted, his hood up over the back of his head as he lay face down. He was a mess. I almost laughed, if it hadn't been the saddest thing I'd ever seen.

"Hey loser," I said, knocking on the wooden panel even though the doors were half open. "Can I come in?"

He jolted up at the sound of my voice, looking like someone had just pointed a gun at his head. Why the fuck was I even asking? It was my house. And I was me. I didn't ask for anything.

"No," he said.

"Okay. I'm coming in."

He half glared at me and half looked like a corpse as he forced himself out of bed, cautiously eyeing me step into his dimly lit room against his will. I got that weird urge to touch him again, so I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. He just looked so... fragile after he'd been crying, and even in summer, his petite nose was tinted red from sniffing too much. Fragile, as if he were made of china, and being in my hands was the only way he wouldn't break. Holding him was okay. It was the letting go part that I didn't understand. I didn't understand why it was hard, or why it hurt that little pool of feeling inside my chest. It was like seeing a baby in a burning house. Even if you hated children, you wouldn't leave the child alone. I wanted nothing to do with Noah, and yet he was such a goddamn mess that he was practically begging for my help at every given moment.