Pale blue eyes glanced around uneasily. Devin unclipped the saddlebag from his bike, eyes roaming over the green-brown of his overgrown front lawn as it hit the floor with a thud. There was a lingering thought of fear that he shouldn't have com back here, but also that he should never have left in the first place. The thing was that he hadn't even told anyone that he was leaving.
He hadn't even told himself that he was leaving. It had happened like he was on autopilot. The sky was still dark when he'd shot up out of bed, for a reason he can't remember now, and Maverick had whined from the floor, as if he knew something was wrong. Heart pounding and shaky legs, still slightly delirious from the lack of sleep he'd had recently, Devin had shoved stuff into his sports bag.
It was supposed to just be a weekend away, which is what the note had said when he dumped Maverick in Nathan's backyard with a bag of dog food; He'd just be going for a little rest upstate.
It was never meant to turn into four months, nor had he meant to go so far up the state, into the next state up even. The thing was-- - no one knew him up there, he didn't have to talk to anyone, he could just get on with life and not worry about what people thought about him.
Along with a multitude of texts from people who were wondering where he was, what he was doing, which had cause him to throw out the sim to his phone and deactivate his social media accounts, he'd had thoughts.
Not bad thoughts. Mostly pondering what had become of him, and thoughts about people he cared about.
Thoughts of Echo, and what this would do to her, had flittered through his mind while he was riding, sure, but he'd forcibly pushed them out. He had decidedly avoided acknowledging her existence for the first few days, especially on the day when he'd decided he wasn't going back. And he had continued to forcibly pushed them out of his brain for three and a half months, until one day he hadn't thought of her at all. That shocked him.
How had he left this girl? The girl who he loved so much and who loved him unconditionally in return, even when he had been broken beyond repair. Echo even tried to fix him up with a glue stick and tape, not phased by his incompleteness when his pieces didn't fit back together properly.
So he came back, and now he was here. Standing in front of his obnoxiously painted house, overgrown lawn. Deft fingers snatched up the saddle bag, and, while fishing his phone out of his front pocket, he climbed the steps to his porch, flopping into a slightly dusty chair with the grace of a rhinoceros.
Minutes ticked by as he flipped the phone in his hand. Her number was not on his sim, and his old number was unreachable, so she wouldn't realise who was texting her anyway. But it's not as if it wasn't burnt into his memory from all the nights spent sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping in the number and writing, then erasing messages of explanation.
Write.
Erase.
Write.
Erase.
Before he'd realised, the sky was dark, his fingers still poised over the message he'd written and rewritten so many times that he'd lost count. It was useless, a huge dick move to even attempt to contact Echo when she was probably happy with someone else, had forgotten about him entirely. A heavy weight settled in his chest, a soft sound of distress forced it's way out of his mouth as he finally, finally, tapped the send button.
I won't tell anybody that you turn the world around
I won't tell anybody that your voice is my favorite sound
He wondered if she'd remember, probably not. But whatever. It was his lousy decision in the first place. Devin shoved himself up from the chair, hoisting the saddlebag over his shoulder, and reached up for the key that was pushed into the crack between the front door and the wall, letting himself into the house. He dropped the bag and flopped onto the dusty couch, almost immediately falling into a restless sleep.
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