“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Arrick lifts my chin back to him with soft fingers so that we’re nose to nose as he ducks into my much shorter height and bridges the large gap as best he can. He frowns hard at me and studies my expression for a second, before that boyish face completely calms to that softer expression I know and love. His genuine calm.
Hints of a face that is so achingly familiar, and for a moment I forget why I am even crying, why I’m mad at him. He sighs slowly as though to reel back and comes at me with a new tactic that is less devastating to my soul.
“Sophie? Talk to me,” he whispers, and it only pushes me that little bit further into remorse and hopelessness. I burst into painful heartfelt tears and bury my face in the open front of his jacket, against that expanse of hard chest as his arms come around me protectively, the warmth of his body heat encircling me along with the smell of him that could always soothe everything away. His chin finds the top of my head and rests gently as he tries to console me. My heart aches at everything that is familiar in this, a million fleeting memories of this exact hold on me when consoling a thousand scars.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper hopelessly, clinging onto him and snuggle closer, wanting so badly to just climb inside his skin and feel more secure. Suddenly full of remorse. I don’t even know at what, and wanting nothing else than this here right now, him and me, like we used to be. That cool poised version of him has drifted away and the anxiety inside of me lessens a little.
“What am I going to do with you, Mimmo?” Arrick has lost that edge to his tone too, lost his anger when faced with me in real heartfelt tears, sobbing my broken heart out and clinging desperately to him. “Sophie, you can’t keep going on like this. You’re hurting yourself and everyone who loves you. This is hurting me.” He moves his arms down to encircle my waist, so he can angle his face down to mine as best he can, trapping my arms under his so I can’t maneuver away. Holding me so I can’t walk off when I console myself, or storm away if I don’t like what he wants to say. He knows me too well.
“I know.” I sniff back the waterworks and try to tilt my chin lower, so he can’t get eye to eye with me. I don’t want him to see the mess I get in when I cry. I hate being vulnerable and weak and looking this terrible up close and personal.
“Then talk to me, tell me what’s going on in here.” He lets go with one hand and gently taps my forehead, moving a stray hair away from my face and tucks its highlighted blondness behind my ear softly, close enough to me that I can breathe his air. His proximity is soothing, even if it makes it impossible to dodge that intense look.
“I can’t … I don’t even know anymore.” I cry hopelessly some more, his strong arms find their way back around me snugly, comforting me and making me feel safe. That aching loneliness dispersing like it always does when I am with him. The only time that deep throb of nothing gives me a break in life.
“Are you still seeing your therapist?” He nudges me with his forehead to make me look up at him and I do so obediently, automatically, without thought. On some level, he still has the ability to make me obey him anyway, even if it is only subtle things like this.
I shake my head and wait on the next bout of lectures that I know are coming. I haven’t been in months because I simply don’t think it helps anymore. I feel like it has done all it can for me and we’re just rehashing the same old shit. I want to move on from the past and leave it in my wake, not talk it over and keep it fresh in my broken head. Arrick frowns at me again, opens his mouth to speak but then thinks better of it, sighing again.
“We need you back, Mimmo. Whatever this is that you’re going through … You’re not alone. We all love you and want to see you get out of whatever this is. Drinking, getting high and partying your days away with random men, day in and day out, is doing nothing but harm to you, Sophs. I can’t stand seeing you this way, and I might not be there the next time some asshole takes a pop at you.” His words are soft and almost pleading, still nestling me against him tenderly. For the first time in weeks, I can breathe and be still.
His words make me flinch, gut aching with the familiar pang of guilt he always makes me feel when faced with my behavior. Except now, instead of defensively biting back that I’m doing nothing wrong, I can’t deny that I agree.
“I know.” I answer back, a new onslaught of soft tears which have risen to the surface make their way down my face. Arrick brushes them away with his thumb, focusing on my eyes, gently boring into my soul.
“Talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking.” He nudges me again softly, his tone soothing. It doesn’t take much coaxing for that verbal pain to spew out when he has me this way. Malleable and easy to coax, half drunk, and torn with fragility.
“I’m so tired of this life and tired of feeling empty inside. I want things to be different, I want to be different!” I drag in a heavy breath and pull back from the verge of hysterical tears that rear their ugly head from deep down. Arrick smooths more hair from my face, calming the internal stormy waves as he regards me solemnly. Absorbing my words, his own face showing signs of wavering emotion as his eyes glaze a little too. Hurt because I’m hurting. “I’m ashamed of who I’ve become.” The dam breaks with the shame of what I admit; tears and wracking sobs envelop me with the rush of words, letting it out in one steady swoop. Arrick pulls me closer still, gently stroking my arm and comforting me. Realizing that I am covered in goosebumps he lets me go, slides off his jacket and drapes it around my naked shoulders, then cuddles me back in against his chest, in a bid to calm me down and warm me. I didn’t even notice I was cold.
“The girl I know is still in there, still capable of finding her way back out.” His voice low and husky, emotion obvious, and as gentle as the Arrick I have always known and loved. This is the boy who held me tight through tears after every day of court against my father, giving me the strength to face him head-on. Who held my hand and drove me to counseling for years on end and stayed ever present when I couldn’t face it alone. This is the boy who took me under his wing and became the steady shield and solid foundation I so desperately needed in my life. This has been the missing force of late and his reappearance changes everything.
“I don’t know how to get back.” Another bout of heartfelt sobbing leaks out, as though a tap has been left open, but Arrick holds me tight, anchoring me, being my steady ground and solid rock once more.
“That’s why you have me. No matter what you go through, I’ll never leave you to deal with it alone. I’m here, Sophs, take from me what you need. You know I will move mountains for you, Mimmo.” Arrick tilts back his shoulders and head to see me better, lifts my chin to him once more. So much seriousness in that gentle frown of his. Those eyes trained on me intensely and they break down all my defenses. “Tell me what you need.”
There’s silence while I compose myself, slowly tangling my fingers in the hem of his jacket and curling myself into that strong hard chest. Taking my cues from him, knowing this is long overdue and needing this more than air.
“I want to stop feeling like my life is worthless. I want to have some sort of purpose … a reason to get up and be.” I wipe my face with cold fingers, steadying my emotions as best I can, calming down now that he is really listening to me for the first time in so long. Someone is listening to me, someone who genuinely cares. The one person who matters the most.
“Then we need to figure out how we can do that. Come home with me; we can sober you up and talk properly at my place. You know I’ll be there to help you through this, I’ve always been here, and I always will be.” He tries to smooth back my hair again, but this time I push back from him, pulling myself away. A sudden fire in my belly sparks at his words, a tiny little knee-jerk bite at something so small because deep down it just hasn’t been true of late.
“We’re not the same anymore. You, and I … You have Natasha now, and I always feel like I’m in the way, or excess to needs. Yeah, you come for me when I’m drunk or being dumb, and deposit me like a good girl back at Amber’s apartment, Arrick. But when was the last time we hung out, or just talked about stuff? You’re moving on without me, and I’m being left behind in the aftermath. How long before you’re too busy to help me and I’m left back on my own again?” I wipe my tears with his jacket sleeve this time and sniff back harder, full-on outburst of simmering anger and bruised tears. Hurt by him because my words are painfully true. “I know Natasha hates you talking to me, that she thinks I’m some annoying kid who monopolizes your life. I barely see you anymore unless I get smashed and need you to rescue me. Why do you think I call you, of all people? Not my brothers, or sister, not Emma, or even Jake, not my parents! It’s the only way I can guarantee you will see me alone, without her there.” I lash out angrier, tears stopping in my throat to be replaced with niggling rage that has been festering under the surface all this time. It’s all coming out now that drink has pushed away my inhibitions, and I’m venting at him. Almost two years of this resentment let loose.