by Nyla K
If he misses me even one one-hundredth as much as I miss him, I’ll be satisfied.
The meeting goes for minutes on end and Damien doesn’t look at me, nor does he speak a word. Val keeps asking me questions, and I respond with one-word answers, each time looking to Day for any kind of weigh-in. It makes no sense for him to come all the way over here for this meeting if he’s not even going to say anything the whole time.
But that’s exactly what he does. We go through an entire fifty-minute meeting without speaking to each other once, and for all the times I’ve looked at him, he hasn’t given me a single glance. It sets some significant depression in my gut, and by the time we’re wrapping up, all I want to do is go to my office and get shitfaced.
The second Val and Javi agree that we’re all set, I jump up and stalk out of the conference room, desperate to get back to my office. I just want to be away from everyone. I need to be alone to deal with all these… emotions.
I hate feeling things in front of people. Usually Damien is the only person I’ll let see the real me; the insecure, scarred, unwanted orphan. I thought for a long time I wasn’t him anymore, but I was wrong. And now that I don’t have Damien, I’m back to where I was at fourteen.
Alone.
Inside my office, I pour myself a drink and bring it to my lips, sipping as slowly as I can. I haven’t eaten much lately, so I get drunk quicker. My shaky right hand grips the tumbler while I close my eyes, rubbing them hard with my left.
When I finally reopen my eyes, I jump so high I almost spill my drink all over myself.
Damien is standing at the entrance to my office. He’s in the doorway, just staring at me.
His face is pretty serious, but he doesn’t look the way he did the last time I saw him, when he was on top of me, wanting nothing more than to strangle me to death.
I swallow down the saliva filling my mouth and blink at him. My lips part, but I have no clue what to say. I’m just so… happy to be seeing him looking at me.
I know he hates me. I know he’s mad, and I ruined our friendship.
Everything is so fucked up between us, but I’ve never been gladder to see his eyes locked on mine. So I take this moment and cherish it before he leaves.
He, like me, looks exhausted. His eyes are tired, the way they used to be after Lia passed. His dirty blonde hair is looking a bit shaggier than usual, but I think it looks good. It reminds me of when we were kids.
He’s wearing his usual white button-down, dress slacks and a gray tie. He looks great, despite everything, and that dead thing in my chest tries to pump itself back to life as we stare at each other for several silent moments.
I need to say something. Anything.
There are so many things I should say, but I don’t want to piss him off or make him leave. The only possible thing that might work is…
“Want a drink?” I lift my glass and my brow, hoping he’ll join me in a drink like he used to. Maybe that will get him talking to me again.
I think I see the corner of his mouth twist, but I could be hallucinating since it vanishes fast.
“It’s barely three in the afternoon,” he speaks, steadily. Firm and not casual, but then not exactly angry. Just indifferent. I shrug, because what else can I do? To which he sighs, “You shouldn’t drink so much. You look like shit.”
“Yea, well, I lost my best friend recently, so…” I bite my lip to shut myself up, because I really didn’t mean to blurt that out.
Gaping at him, I pray he won’t be upset. But instead of cursing me out, he just swallows visibly and glances at his shoes.
“And why did that happen?” His head shakes a little. “Hm?” Eyes pop back up to mine and the green cuts me deep.
My gut burns like someone’s slicing me open. I hate this so much. This pain is unbearable.
“I’m… fucking sorry,” I whimper.
He rubs his eyes and sniffs, “Gotta go.”
He turns to leave, but I stammer after him quickly, stopping to the middle of the room.
“Wait! Damien, please.” I’m practically stuttering, desperate for him to stay, just for a minute. He freezes in the doorway with his back to me. “Don’t go.”
His shoulders move visibly with heavy breaths. He’s quiet for a few excruciating seconds before peering over his shoulder.
“I have to.”
“Damien…” I mutter, fisting my hand in my hair. “Please.”
“It was good to see you, Lazarus,” he whispers.
And then he’s gone.
I can do nothing more than sink behind my desk again and drink myself blind.
Loneliness feels like a lifestyle at times.
Some people revel in their loneliness. I have before. I know Traci has.
We’re loners at heart; inherently introverted people who prefer the company of ourselves to the company of others.
And then other times it feels like a crippling disease. Suffocating, like depression or anxiety. A mental health disorder virtually impossible to see your way out of. It overwhelms the mind, seeping into the crevices of our brains until we convince ourselves we’re better off this way.
We’re meant to be alone forever.
I was raised feeling like this, which is one main reason why when I met Damien at fourteen I didn’t know how to react to his desire to befriend me. No one had ever done it before.
Even when I was a child, kids were afraid of me. I was small and quiet, dark hair and different eyes, and they used to call me names. Like Monster Boy, or Lazarus the Evil One.
I don’t allow my brain to register memories like these often. I buried them long ago, when I grew up and got friends, and began molding my life into that of a future success-story.
But now that I’m alone again, without the one person who saved me from a life of standing on the outside looking in, the more the awful memories have been slipping through. They’ve been coming back to me more and more, and it sends me spiraling. I’m a victim and a symptom of my own loneliness.
My heart cries out at night, every night.
Sometimes I wake up whispering Traci’s name. I blink myself awake in the darkness of wherever I’ve passed out in my giant house, reaching for her small, soft, warm body. I remember the feeling of her lips, her scent, the way her hands touched me when she thought I was sleeping, innocently curious fingers trailing anywhere she could reach, basking in the high that comes from finally getting something you’ve always wanted.
I was a reward to her, and it was enchanting.
Other times I wake up crying for Damien. A pain so full it aches in my chest for my best friend, and how much I miss him.
The confusion wrecks me. I know I’m not supposed to want both of them, and I’m not sure that I do in the same way. But the problem is that I miss them both, deep, in every rift of my empty soul.
I can’t have one without the other, but I can’t have both.
Such a mind-fuck, it’s no wonder I’m basically drinking myself to death.
Damien’s been coming to the office every day, as if nothing ever happened. But then that’s not entirely true, because he doesn’t speak to me. That first day he came in and spoke to me for two minutes was the last time he’s even glanced in my direction in weeks.
We still text every night, though they’re not exactly conversations. It’s just me apologizing and telling him how much I love him, and him replying with his usual brand of fuck off.
At least it’s something though.
The fact that he’s coming into the office now and responding to my messages gives me shreds of hope that maybe we can move forward from this, at some point.
Regardless of that tiny little speck, the issues remain…
How can I be friends with Damien when I’m in love with his daughter?
How can I be present in Traci’s life when I’m in love with her father?
How can I get my office window open enough to jump out of it?
It’s all of this chaos burning thro
ugh my brain that prompts my next, ill-advised action.
Leaping up from my desk in a fog of hungover turmoil, I leave my office and stalk next door to Damien’s. I don’t bother knocking.
I just burst through the door and close it behind me, swallowing hard when I realize he’s on a call.
“I won’t reconsider,” Damien murmurs to whoever is on the phone, gaping at me with wide eyes like I’ve completely lost my mind. It’s a justified look. “And I can’t say I’m sorry either, because quite frankly, I’m not. I should’ve done this last year.”
Damien’s eyes stay with mine while he presses a button on his phone, switching on the speaker, a familiar voice coming through so I can hear.
“This is very upsetting to me, Damien,” Jerald Cartwell grumbles, sounding frustratingly caught off-guard. All I can do is blink at my best friend. “I thought we’d moved past all of that…”
“We moved past it, yes,” Day goes on. “But your partner is a piece of shit, to put it mildly. He’s shady as hell, and he’s made far too many personal attacks on myself, my partner and even my daughter. I’m over it. We don’t need your business. And good luck finding someone else to take on your bullshit portfolio.”
“You smug mother-”
Jerald’s voice cuts off when Damien hangs up on him and places the phone down in the holder, breathing out a hard sigh.
My stunned whisper breaks, “What did you just do?”
“I told you we should’ve dropped them after Evangeline,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Then the party, and everything that asshole told me about you. I mean, I know it was true, but he’s still a scumbag. I refuse to make any more money for those two dipshits.”
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or do. I can’t even move, just staring at my former best friend, wondering why on earth he would defend my honor like that if he hates me so much.
He dropped a multi-million dollar account for me…
I’d long since discovered that Ted Jennings was the one who told Damien about Traci and me. I should’ve known he was just trying to distract me by bringing up my past in that email months ago, all the while skulking around The Boom Boom Room, putting together evidence of my relationship with Traci so he could rat me out and destroy my friendship with Damien.
He’s jealous. It’s disgusting, and the thought of working with someone like him was pretty appalling. But honestly, I’ve had bigger things to worry about lately.
Still, it clearly didn’t fly with Damien.
I continue to stare at him, because I flew in here prepared to berate him into speaking to me, but now he’s just doing it, and I’m so thrown off I completely forgot what I was going to say.
The only words I can manage are, “Oh. Well… Thank you.”
“It’s not really for you.” He gives me a stone face.
I nod and glance at the floor. “Right. Well, thanks anyway.”
“Is there something you needed?” He asks, and my gaze darts back up to his. “You just stormed in here like there’s a fire.”
“No… No fire. Just wanted to… um…”
I have no fucking clue what to say. I’m at a literal loss for words.
Damien’s lips curve into a subtle grin, zapping me right in the chest. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve seen in so fucking long, and I’m instantly swept up in how good he looks when he smiles, and how much his smile really means to me…
Everything.
“Lazarus, go home and get some rest,” he hums. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My heart thuds at an almost psychotic level as I gawk at him. He doesn’t look pissed off, or angry with me. A bit more serious than normal, but he’s looking at me. He’s looking at me the way he used to… Like we’re still friends.
I’ve known him long enough to read his face, and this one expression is giving me life. It’s giving me hope.
He still loves me.
We’re going to be okay.
Maybe… we can get past this.
A small smile tugs at my mouth, uncontrollably. I still can’t speak, so I just keep nodding and cherishing that look, letting the rays of sunshine from his little smirk wash over me and provide me the comfort of which I’m in dire need.
He can obviously tell I’m ecstatic seeing him like this because huffs a small chuckle and shakes his head, finally breaking our stare to go back to work. And I just continue to watch him flipping through papers for a few moments before I snap out of it and turn to leave his office.
I don’t even go back into my office. I pass Lana on my way out and tell her I’m done for the day. She gives me a look like I’m certifiable because I’m smiling, and as rare as it usually is for me to do so, it definitely hasn’t occurred in months. I think every employee I pass on the way out of the office is ready to have me committed.
But I don’t even care. I just hop into my Maserati and drive home.
Once I get there, I make a beeline for my bed and crash. My eyelids droop as I fall into a much needed slumber.
With a smile on my face the whole damn time.
When my eyes flit open, everything is dark.
Lifting my head, I gaze around in a daze, observing the time on the clock telling me it’s almost six in the evening. I slept for like seven hours, and it was refreshing enough that I feel like a new man.
Give me a shower and a fucking cheeseburger and I might start to resemble myself again.
My phone, still in my pocket, buzzes and I tug it out, sitting up while blinking at the screen.
A text from Damien.
My pulse instantly starts rapping like crazy while I open it up, another one coming in as I do.
Day: OK asshole… You win
Day: I fucking miss you too
A laugh puffs from between my lips as tears simultaneously creep up to the backs of my eyes. I would feel like a real sack right now if I gave a fuck about anything other than my best friend telling me he misses me.
Finally. After months of shutting me out.
I’m thrilled. I could jump up and dance around, which is not something I do.
I’m about to text him back, but I mutter, “Fuck it,” under my breath, and place a call instead.
The phone rings a couple times before the line connects, and he sighs in my ear, “God dammit, Lazarus…”
“Damien,” I croak, then clear my throat, struggling to pull it together enough to speak. “I know I’ve said it a million times, but I need you to really hear me. I fucking sorry.”
“Laz…” He sounds choked up himself, hitting me in the chest.
“No, just listen,” I stop him, quietly firm. “There are reasons why things happened the way they did. I need to talk to you about them, Day. I need to, but honestly, I’m so… lost without you. I need my best friend back. I need you.”
He sniffs over the line and it shatters any semblance of strength I was holding up. I’m exposed, pink and soft and unguarded for him. I think I’ve always been like this for Damien, but right now it feels like he could do anything in the world to me and I would just take it.
It’s the scariest thing I’ve never felt before.
Is this what real love is?
“Day?” I murmur to the sounds of him trying to act like he’s not falling apart. It’s okay, I’m doing the same thing.
“I need to tell you something…” he breathes deep, as if he’s preparing himself for heaviness. Instantly, my nerves rattle. “Something that Lia said to me, right before she died.”
Without even registering it, I’ve slid off my bed onto the floor, gripping the phone in my palm, just listening.
“She was talking about me moving on… Finding love again after her,” he starts. “You know I didn’t want to hear it. She wasn’t even gone yet. The last thing I ever wanted to hear was her telling me to find a fucking girlfriend.” He pauses and I nod, understanding. “But instead, she hit me with something unexpected. She told me she knew I would never be alone. That as scared as
she was about leaving me and Traci, she knew she didn’t need to worry about me not finding someone… Because I have you.”
I swallow down a gulp of emotions and realize my hands are shaking. My lips part, but I can’t speak.
“I looked at her like she was insane,” he laughs subtly, and the sound brings me to smile. “I acted like I didn’t understand what the hell she was talking about. But I did, and she knew that, too. She said that the love you and I have is different. Stronger and sturdier than anything she’s seen before. Lazarus… she was right.”
A tear sneaks out and I swipe it away fast.
“You’re a part of me. You have been since that day I held you in my car, all dirty and cold and fucking starving. I’m not saying we were supposed to be more, because that would mean I wouldn’t have met Lia. But… fuck, Laz, I have loved you since then, and I don’t think I can live another day without you, let alone the rest of my life. My fucking wife knew it, I know it. I need you to know it, too.”
I rub my eyes hard and breathe a ragged one into the phone before stuttering, “I know. I do know, Day. I fucking love you and I just… don’t…” I’m tripping on my words, I’m so nervous.
“We’re such losers,” he snorts a chuckle, and I burst out laughing.
“What are you doing right now?” I ask with anticipation lining my tone.
“I’m still at the office. I was about to head home…”
“Come over. Please?” I can’t help the begging in my voice. There’s absolutely no way I can wait until tomorrow to see him. And with what we’re talking about, I just don’t think the office is the right place to have this conversation.
He’s quiet for a moment before he whispers, “Okay.”
My heart leaps and there’s a tightness in my chest I can’t ignore. Emotions rush through me like running water, and I don’t know what to do with them.
All I know is that I need to see him. Right now.
I have no idea what will happen, what we’ll say or do, or how anything has really changed, but he’s talking to me. He loves me and I can’t let him go anywhere until he knows just how much he means everything in the whole fucking world to me.