I stand, feeling the weight of the silence, and walk down the hall into the living room. Looking around, the absence of Aleck pulls me under like quicksand.

No note, no text, no Aleck.

Empty.

I wipe the tears that were destined to fall on this day and turn back to the hall. I pass Aleck’s room, eager to pack my things. I need to get out of here. No longer feeling like this is home. And if he calls, I want to be ready to go to him.

He’ll call. He’s just dealing with a lot. He’ll call, won’t he?

* * *

Resting my cheek against the lush fabric of my couch cushion, I look around my apartment, finding less than zero comfort in it. I straighten my spine, lowering my feet to the area rug below. I reach for my tea, tapping the screen of my phone. No notifications. As if one would have slipped past me.

Bringing the mug billowing with steam to my lips, I glance at my bags still sitting by my front door, cringing at the thought of unpacking them.

Everything inside them smells like him.

Everything holds some sort of memory of what we shared in our bubble. The bubble of Aleck and me. The bubble that’s been popped with a deafening clap.

I wear every minute that ticks by like a life vest stuffed with lead. The only thing binding me to time, the knowledge that it’s been eleven hours since I left that message. Eleven hours that he’s chosen not to call me back or even text something trivial that I can grab ahold of.

The only connection I have to Richard’s condition is Preston. He’s at Aleck’s side. He calls Sondra on the hour, then she calls me. He must know that I know about Richard by now. Even if he hasn’t listened to my voicemail. But I know him better than that. He listened. He listened, and he chose.

I’m being selfish, I know, but the idea that his radio silence isn’t because of Richard’s accident and more of an easy way out, is consuming me. I knew last night. I knew he was saying goodbye, and I deluded myself into believing he wouldn’t be able to let us go.

But he chose. By now, I have to acknowledge that.

And maybe he was always going to leave me behind. Maybe I’m only “Good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date.” Hayden’s words—louder than any of the words Aleck spoke—becoming white noise static behind every thought I have right now.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up my phone and open it, tapping Aleck’s name one last time. It rings, and rings, and rings, just like I knew it would. The robotic message, followed by a beep, echoes in my ear like a breakup song.

“Hi…” I take a deep, cleansing breath. “Sondra said Richard did well in surgery. She mentioned his doctors said he’s not out of the woods, but they’re hopeful. As long as he… regains consciousness.” I shake my head, cursing myself for not knowing what to say. In my defense, I’m talking to a damn machine. “Aleck, I’m here for you. If you think I can’t see you vulnerable or emotional, I can… I want to. No, shit, I don’t want to see you that way, but it wouldn’t affect the way I feel about you if I did.”