with his refusal to open the door, eleanor had no choice but to cry softly to herself. she had collapsed onto the passenger door, face against the glass, looking out into the only place she wanted to be: anywhere but here. using her hands, she sloppily pushed the tears away, messing up the remnants of the makeup that she had put on days before. however, with every attempt to clear her face, more tears cascaded down porcelain cheeks. through blurry eyes, she searched her bag for some kind of tissue, finding some at the very bottom. she carelessly blotted tears away, hoping that she didnât look as awful as she felt.
as brady went on about his hopes and dreams, she finally understood why she felt so empty. she was finally vis-Ă -vis with the unavoidable void. it was guilt. it wasnât anger; what was there to be angry at? herself, of course, and no one else was at fault. it wasnât confusion; she completely understood that she was at fault. she wasnât a child anymore. she couldnât hide behind the innocent facade anymore, as she was no longer innocent. she was no longer a stranger to heartbreak; no more was she naĂŻve to human sexuality. she was no longer a stupid teenager. she was finally at fault.
she didnât know what to say, so instead she said nothing. she wanted to tell him that he wasnât a bad guy, and that she was simply a mistake. she wanted to tell him that she was sorry, and that sheâll go away so he can get what he wanted, if thatâs what made him happy. but she didnât know where to begin. so instead, she said nothing at all. she let a few moments of pure silence pass before finally opening up. âyou donât have to be a bad guy. you were never a bad guy. i made you the bad guy. i did this. this is my fault. so please, open this damn door so i can get out of your life forever. we canât both run away, but itâll be easier if one of us does. and you belong here. i belong on some random set of coordinates, miles away from another organism so i donât fuck them up, too.â
he hadnât wanted things to come to this--eleanor crying, him losing his temper. this was supposed to be a civil discussion, and yet, once again, they were ending their time together in conflict. how could things have become so raw, so unbearable? a year and a half ago, the two had been almost dopey every time theyâd crossed each other, and now brady couldnât hold the blondeâs gaze for more than a split second without turning away. âthere are napkins in the glove box,â brady offered, voice quiet. it was odd, but every time things were tense, he always felt as though speaking in a normal tone would disrupt things even more. as he looked out the window, it was almost as if the entire world was suspended in time, leaving the couple to bask in their misery alone.Â
âyou didnât make me a bad guy,â brady cared to admit, wishing he could reassuringly pat her knee, though knowing it would be an awful decision. âyou just made me a lovesick, teenage girl, really. but that was okay, still is actually. i didnât mind being in love, not with you, at least, even if i always made a big fuss about it.â the man gripped the steering wheel tightly, listening to her place the blame solely on herself, and realizing that maybe heâd been too cruel. âyou want to know why i left a year ago, eleanor? like, the real reason?â for the first time since sheâd began to cry, brady tried desperately to meet her eyes. this wasnât something he could confess without their locked gazes, nor without one last, deep breath before he dived in.Â
too impatient to wait for the girlâs reply, he began. âi left because i didnât want you to. and i know that sounds weird, because why would you have left? but the thing is that we were so toxic, we still are toxic. i didnât want to keep making your life so chaotic, you know? but you had school and work and friends, and just...things that kept you tethered here. but me? my life has never been anchored anywhere, really, so why not pick up and leave again? and then bam, bristol was leaving for paris, and i figured why not take my one chance?â bringing his bottom lip into his mouth, brady began to work the flesh with his teeth, wondering how to continue. treading carefully, he continued with, âyou were young then, and so, so fresh. i mean, you were only nineteen when we met, el. i felt like an old man when i was with you, or at least like i was doing something wrong to be taking up so much of your life. so yeah, i left because i was scared, but i left for you, too. and maybe you didnât ask me to do that, but thatâs what love is supposed to be like, right? i make sacrifices for you.â then, as though heâd never said a word, brady shrugged, his finger hovering above the unlock button. âiâm not going to hold you hostage, thatâs kidnapping, but i just needed you to hear me out, okay?â and with a click, freedom was once again at the tip of her fingers.Â
