Chapter 27: The Fight (Leo POV)
Chapter 27: The Fight (Leo POV)
I sit on the couch, my arm wrapped tight in a white bandage Mia tied around it. The cuts underneath sting a little, but I don’t feel them much. I don’t feel anything. My head’s empty, numb, like someone turned off the noise inside me. The apartment’s a mess around me, broken canvases and spilled paint still on the floor. Jake’s moving fast, grabbing my stuff, shoving it into a duffel bag he brought from New York. His boots thud loud on the wood, and his voice cuts through the quiet. “We’re leaving today,” he says, not looking at me. “I booked flights. You’re coming with me.” I don’t answer. I just sit there, my hands in my lap, staring at the bandage.
He pulls clothes from a pile by the mattress, wrinkled shirts and jeans, and stuffs them in the bag. “You can’t stay here,” he says, his voice hard. “Look at this place. Look at you.” I don’t look up. My beard’s thick now, itchy on my face, and my hair hangs over my eyes. I haven’t showered in days, maybe longer. I don’t care. He zips the bag shut, loud and sharp, and drops it by the door. “Flight’s in three hours,” he says, pulling out his phone. “We need to move.” I nod, slow, but it’s not real. It’s just my head moving, not me agreeing. I don’t have the strength to fight him.
Mia’s in the corner, her arms crossed, her eyes red from crying. She’s been quiet since last night, since they pulled me out of the tub. “Jake,” she says, her voice soft but shaky. “He’s not ready. He needs time.” Jake turns, fast, his face tight. “Time for what?” he snaps. “To try that again? No way. He’s coming with me.” She steps closer, her hands dropping to her sides. “He needs help here,” she says. “Friends, people who know him. Not a new city.” Jake shakes his head, hard. “This city’s killing him,” he says, loud now. “That guy’s killing him. I’m not leaving him here to rot.” Mia looks at me, her eyes wet, pleading. “Leo, say something,” she says. “Tell him you want to stay.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat’s dry, my tongue heavy. I see Daniel’s face instead, his eyes when he walked out, his voice saying it’s over. My chest hurts, a dull ache, and I look down at my hands again. “Let him decide,” Mia says, softer now, stepping toward me. Jake grabs her arm, not hard, just enough to stop her. “He can’t decide,” he says. “Look at him. He’s gone, Mia. I’m taking him.” She pulls free, her breath shaky, and kneels next to me. “Leo,” she whispers, her hand on my knee. “Stay. Please.” I don’t move. I don’t look at her. I’m too tired, too empty. Jake’s right. I’m gone.
He grabs my arm, gentle but firm, and pulls me up. “Come on,” he says. “We’re leaving.” My legs wobble, but I stand, letting him lead me. Mia stands too, her hands clenched. “Jake, don’t,” she says, her voice breaking. “He’s not ready.” He ignores her, picking up the bag and pushing me toward the door. “He’ll be ready when he’s out of here,” he says, his tone final. I shuffle forward, my boots dragging, my arm throbbing under the bandage. Mia follows, close behind, her breath loud in the quiet. “I’ll visit,” she says, fast, like she’s convincing herself. “I’ll check on the place. Just don’t go yet.” Jake opens the door, cold air rushing in, and doesn’t answer her.
The stairs creak under us as we head down, Jake’s hand on my back, keeping me steady. Mia’s still talking, her voice fading as we move. “I’ll call you,” she says. “Every day. You don’t have to do this.” I don’t turn back. I can’t. My head’s too heavy, my body slow. We hit the street, and Jake flags a cab, the yellow car pulling up fast. He opens the door, pushes me in, and slides next to me, the bag on his lap. “Airport,” he tells the driver, his voice sharp. The cab moves, the city sliding past the window, gray and blurry. I lean my head against the glass, cold on my skin, and close my eyes. Daniel’s gone. That’s all I know.
The airport’s loud when we get there, people rushing around, voices bouncing off the walls. Jake pulls me through the crowd, his grip tight on my arm. “Stay with me,” he says, loud over the noise. I nod, slow, my feet dragging on the shiny floor. He checks us in, grabs the tickets, and leads me to the gate area. The screens above us glow, listing flights, times, cities. New York’s up there, bold and white, leaving soon. I stop, staring at it, my breath shallow. Jake lets go of my arm, setting the bag down, and looks at me. “We’re almost out,” he says, softer now. “You’ll be okay.” I don’t believe him. I don’t feel anything.
I sit on a hard plastic chair, my hands in my lap, the bandage bright against my dark jeans. Jake paces, checking his phone, talking to someone, maybe Mia. I don’t listen. I stare at the departure board, the numbers ticking down, the word “boarding” flashing next to our flight. My chest tightens, slow and deep, and I whisper, “He left me.” It’s quiet, just for me, but it hurts saying it. Daniel’s face flashes in my head, his last look before he walked out, and my eyes sting. Jake stops pacing, turns to me, and grips my shoulder, firm but not rough. “We board in an hour,” he says, his voice steady. “You’re coming with me, Leo. We’re done here.” I don’t move, just keep staring, the board blurring in front of me.