Eternity Will Never Be Enough - Chapter Three

William:

It only took me three hours of being alone in my apartment, with it’s blood scattered walls and broken glass dug into the carpet, to decide that it was no longer my home. It only took me two hours after that to pack up everything I absolutely needed after that. And it only took me one day to find a new apartment once I decided I was done there. My new apartment looks remarkably like my old one, in the way that it still has the same black marble countertops in the kitchen, and white carpets. It still has the stainless steel appliances and the tech-savvy washing machine that I love because I never need to remember if you wash colored clothes in hot water or cold. However, I left almost all of my furniture at the old apartment, opting to spend an afternoon picking out furniture instead of looking at the couch where I’ve held Delaney while watching a movie, or the bed that I’ve drifted to sleep with my limbs tangled with Delaney’s. Anything that had any signifigant memories with her had to go, which meant I was left with virtually nothing. Instead of taking my mother with me to buy the new furniture, which I’m positive she would have enjoyed doing, I did it alone. I picked out things that not only would I love, but Delaney would like as well. Nothing was particularly different from what I’d had, but instead of entirely black and white things, I’d grabbed a few things with colors that would hopefully make this place be more of a home. Somewhere where Delaney could feel comfortable.

After two days of moving couches, beds, and dining room tables into my new apartment, and one day of finding every good photograph of Delaney and I to hang on the wall, I was done. And I’ll admit, it looked like a home. A home that, today, I would be bringing Delaney back to. I’d be the first to admit that I’m nervous. I haven’t been to see her at all, simply because I’m terrified to see the bruises left from my bed sheets (which were the first thing I replaced) and the cuts left on her arms. My new apartment is also, well, Delaney proof. I’ve been her best friend for long enough to know how to keep my apartment from being a danger zone. Because of her latest stunt, I made sure every door in my apartment has no lock, and that the knifes and blades and placed strategically high to be kept out of her reach. I felt like I was designing a house for a two year old and not a twenty-one year old.

I’m thinking about all of this as I watch a nurse rush into the room, injecting a syringe that contains what I can only assume contains sedatives into her IV. It only takes seconds for her heart rate to slow back down, and I watch as the nurse runs her fingers down Delaney’s arms. She looks over at me, eyes narrowed as if to warn me not to upset her again, or else. I sink further into myself, pressing my back against the wall. I shut my eyes, trying to imagine Delaney laying not in that bed, but instead in my bed, smiling as she sits on top of my chest, her small hands wrapped around my wrists as I let her pretend that she’s actually strong enough to hold me against the bed.

When I open my eyes, the nurse is gone and Delaney’s chocolate eyes are focused on me. I take a few shaky breaths, then walk back over to her. I drag a chair from against the wall over to her bed, sitting down in it slowly. I don’t meet her eyes, instead let my eyes focus on the straps that are holding her arms down. Surely Delaney couldn’t have been giving them that much trouble that they’d have to restrain her. As long as I’ve known Delaney, going on sixteen years now, she’s never physically fought with someone. I, of all people, would know. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to get a blade out of her fingertips, but she never, ever fights me. Her fingers clench, but she doesn’t say a thing.

“Hold on,” I whisper, moving my fingers from her palm to the strap used to restrain her arm. I know I shouldn’t, but I find myself removing them. I slowly crawl onto the bed next to her, being as careful as I possibly can. She’s probably not as fragile as I’m making her out to be, but still my fingertips barely touch her skin as I move her into my arms. On instinct, she arches away from me, but then she pushes her forehead against my chest, the way she’s done it since we were young. She’s always loved the smell of my cologne, always described it as comforting.

“You came,” She says after the longest silence. I smile, burying my nose into her hair. Normally, Delaney smells exactly like apples, all the time. Or at least, her hair does. Her skin smells like the peach stuff I picked out when we went shopping together after she moved in with me. Right now, she smells like a mixture of the soap hospitals use, the kind that actually makes you smell worse than you’d smell covered in your own sweat, and the smell of hospital sheets that I’m not so sure have been washed lately.

“Of course I did,” I whisper, moving my lips to that space behind her ear, the spot that makes her shiver and curl against my chest. Instantly, my arms tighten around her. The words I should be saying linger on my tongue, apologies for what I’ve done to her. But I can’t bring myself to apologize. She shivers in my arms, and I bring the scratchy hospital blankets up around her. I should have remembered to bring her blankets from home, the nice soft ones that we use when we curl up on my couch watching our favorite movies. But it’s too late now, because soon I’ll be taking her home, to our new home. Soon, I will be asking her to be my girlfriend, for real this time. And not long after that, I will be asking her to marry me.

The best part of my relationship with Delaney is that I don’t have to use words with her, not if I don’t want to. We’re both completely content lying here in silence for the two hours before a doctor finally comes in, and allows us to sign the necessary discharge papers. Delaney tries to insist on walking, but it’s hospital policy that she has to leave the building in a wheel chair, and we’re accompanied by a nurse that can’t quite figure out what I am. I don’t blame her. With me dressed in my black, skinny-fit jeans with holes in the knees, a button up shirt, and hair that hasn’t been brushed in a week, I’m sure she sincerely believes that I’m a pathetic, low-life who still lives with his mother. But then, her eyes fall upon my car and she just can’t quite figure it out. As she reaches down to help Delaney into the passenger seat, I step in front of her, effortlessly lifting Delaney in and buckling her seatbelt in one fluid motion. As I plant a kiss on Delaney’s cheek, she lets out a small giggle.

I barely toss out a “Thanks,” towards the nurse before I’m walking past her and slipping into the drivers seat. I turn the key, listening as my engine roars to life with a small smile on my lips. My eyes drift towards Delaney, her fingers drifting towards the bandages on her arms, and the fraying edges of them. I know how much she wants to take them off. Here’s the thing about Delaney, when she cuts, she often finds them beautiful. I can only guess that it’s killing her to not be looking at them right now.

I slide my car into reverse, effortlessly backing out of the parking space without taking my eyes off her. After I put my car into drive, I let my foot linger on the brakes, giving me enough time to reach over and grab her hand. She barely looks up at me, a small smile on erupts on her lips as she interlaces her fingers with my own. I bring her hand up to my lips, kissing her knuckles. She looks away quickly, but I almost see the way her cheeks redden. She turns her body, still leaving her hand intangled with mine, and curls up in the seat so she can see out the window. I wait until we pull up at a stop sign and press play on the stereo, adjusting the volume until the soft melody fills the car. She closes her eyes, she hates car rides. They make her both anxious and nauseous. My thumb traces circles on Delaney’s hand, trying to soothe her but still I can hear her unsteady breathing. She opens her eyes again a few minutes later, and looks over at me confused.

“Where are we?” She asks, noticing that I’ve turned in the opposite direction. Her brown eyes focus on me, and for once, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

I let a small chuckle escape my lips. “I… uh, moved?” I shrug, pretending to be focused on the road, even though I keep my eyes on her.

“You love your apartment,” She points out, and she’s right. I did love my apartment. Did being the key word here. I loved it before her blood stained the walls and the carpet and the furniture. Up until that point, it was the perfect place for me.

I shrug again. “It’s a little small for two people, don’t you think?” This is true. In my new apartment, there are three bedrooms. Enough room for us, if she says yes, to start a family if we want. I didn’t want it to be my apartment anymore. I wanted it to be hers, too. I wanted her, for the first time in her life, to have a real, stable home. I wanted to take care of her, so nothing would hurt her anymore.

Her skin pales. “I… You didn’t have to move,” She insists. “I won’t be there that long, Will!”

I squeeze her hand to reassure her. “Won’t you?” My lips pull up teasingly, and I wink at her. “I thought, at our age, most people who are dating live together.” Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. She frowns at me, jerking her hand away.

“We’re not dating,” She says defiantly. I watch as she looks down at her lap. I know she’s wondering how long it’ll last until I’m with Rebecca. I want to reassure her that Rebecca and I really are over. That we’d been over since she showed up at my apartment the day after Delaney was admitted to the hospital. That we’d been over since Rebecca had tried kissing me, trying to sleep with me, and I realized that it was all a game to her. But I don’t. I can’t bring myself to bring Rebecca up. I reach over, grabbing her hand again. She looks up, catching my gaze.

I push my fingers in between hers, and she doesn’t bother fighting me. “But what if I want you to be my girlfriend?” I smile, looking directly into her eyes. Her gaze is still intimidating, but she doesn’t let go of my hand, instead tightens her grip.

“How…” She whispers, shifting her body in the seat so her legs are pulled tight against her chest. “How do I know you’re serious this time?”

I bite my lip. This is the point I knew she’d bring up. I don’t exactly know how to prove to her how much I need her. I don’t exactly know how to put into words the way that my skin feels when she touches me, or the way she makes my heart race when she says my name. I don’t exactly know how to tell her that I’ve never felt like this with anyone, and that for a long time I thought it was just because she was my best friend and she knew me better than anyone. I don’t know how to say that while she was gone, when I was on the verge of losing her, I figured out exactly how much I love her, how much I need her.

“You just have to trust me,” I murmur, even though we both know that I’ve given her no reason to trust me. But instead she leans over, presses her lips against my earlobe. I shiver in my seat as she whispers a simple, “I do trust you,” into my ear.

I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, throwing my car into park. Delaney reaches over, twisting the key. She yanks the key out of the ignition, and a low growl escapes my lips as she pushes the keys into the front pocket of her jeans. I roll my eyes, pretending to be unaffected by this. I slide my hand over into her lap, but her thin fingers close around my wrist. She smiles playfully. I know this game. I lean in, pulling her in close to me and kissing her softly.

“I love you,” I whisper as I’m pulling back, my index finger reaching into the front pocket of her jeans and pulling out my keys. “Although, Miss Delaney, if you want a kiss all you have to do is ask,” I tease. She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have resort to stealing.”

She leans in close, until our lips are barely touching. “Maybe I didn’t want a kiss,” She murmurs. I arch an eyebrow and she lets her hand slip and come to rest on my thigh. She bits her lip, eyes nervous and even though we’ve done this so many times before, she always looks so nervous. So vulerable. She looks so afraid that I’m going to say no. But I don’t, instead I gently push her against the passenger seat and tangle my lips with hers.

“Wait,” She says after a moment, tangling her hands in my hair. I pull back, breathless and confused. She smiles at me, and leans in so her lips are barely touching the side of my mouth. “I forgot to say that I love you too,” She whispers before moving back in to kiss me.