“Do you?” Romeo snorted coldly. “A few months can make all the difference.” It was a cruel response. One that was neither warranted nor even true. It was simply reactive. She was backing him into a corner, peeling him away and threatening to leave him exposed. Romeo was exhausted—- physically and mentally. In other words, he was weak. Susceptible to Liv’s eternally entrancing light and able to be pushed to a cliff he had no desire to fall off. He needed to protect himself. Not from her, really, but from what she would make him feel. Olivia always made him feel things. Things he detested. He had no doubt the drugs would only amplify such emotions. After all, being around the blonde was nearly psychedelic itself. She brightened him too much. Like a child who’d spent too long in a cave, her vibrancy burned—- made it hard to see and step. Even in her own despair, Olivia was sparkling. A blue diamond twinkling in lost sorrow. She’d always be able to extrapolate from him that which he preferred to keep hidden. She’d always know him. Second only to River, her ability to pull and perceive and push was uncanny. As desperately as he sought to think otherwise, the few months that had gone by failed to dampen such a capacity. For better or worse, Liv would always see him. Perhaps not in the way others did. He went to great lengths to hide the most appalling parts of his soul, though she’d gleamed it. At Harvard. Here. But her gift was discerning his pain. Because Romeo Saint James indeed felt pain. It wasn’t in the same manner as others, no. He rarely cried or wallowed or sank to his knees. It was more of a chasm—- an emptiness. It settled deep in his chest and grew until he was nearly certain it’d swallow him up. That was Romeo’s pain: a massive abyss that didn’t hurt. It hollowed him out.
It’s like you get off on it. It was a startling statement, one that brought him to a skidding halt and momentarily blinked the humanity back into his gaze. Romeo got off on violence, on being cruel, on causing ruination. Yet, he’d always assumed that alongside River and Aubrey and Winnie, Olivia was an exception. An entity he would not—- could not—- touch. For though all the cheating, lying, and fighting had been primarily to save himself, he at some level presumed, it’d been to save Olivia too. Romeo knew the damage he could do and he’d sought to preserve her from it. It was fucked: to hurt her in an effort to deliver her from pain. From the absolute agony he would undoubtedly lead her to—- dragging her through the nine circles of hell because he knew no better. Wanted no better. And yet—- perhaps he was wrong. Had been wrong this whole time. Conflating an emotional sadism for love when he didn’t—- and never had—- truly loved Olivia. He’d only loved what he could do to her. The power, suffering, and emotional turbulence he could inflict. All this time and she’d never been more than a new version of the same game. Like the women who’d come before and after, she’d meant nothing. Just another toy for Romeo to use and discard once it stopped being fun. The only reason his infatuation had lasted so long was because she’d broke free. She’d ran off the chessboard, leaving him with an unfinished match. And Romeo had to finish. It’s why he’d told her he loved her in the midst of what could only be a mental break. It was a hail mary pass to keep her tethered. To tell her what she wanted to hear not because he meant it but because he meant to hurt her. He got off on it. She might as well have slapped him. Olivia shone and she burned but he was starting to open his eyes and light had a way of showing things as they were.
His jaw tightened, teeth nearly grinding as his tongue remained silent. She’d inadvertently swung open a door he hadn’t realized was there. No, that wasn’t true. He had known it was there, he’d just sought to keep it locked with a thrown-out key. Thus, what could he say? That he was sorry? That what she said was wrong? That she was right to hate him? None would be true. In that moment, he realized he felt nothing. There was no emotional connection, no deep bond. As she spoke, a million memories flashed through his head. The moments he’d felt highest—- love drunk—- was when they were at their most volatile. He’d thrived on it. It was with stunning clarity that he grasped that there had never been a spark. The electricity between them wasn’t a chemical bond, it was something else. Something he couldn’t describe. Couldn’t name. Watching her, Romeo nearly stopped breathing. What he felt for Olivia was not and never had been love. Cinematic, romantic love. He knew that with absolute certainty now. But did that mean he never loved her at all? Had the flowers and kisses and talks and happiness that he was sure he’d felt all truly stemmed from a different place? If Romeo had the professional awareness, he would perhaps realize that he did love Olivia. In his own way—- one that was a constantly intentional and conscious. It wasn’t natural or chemical or free falling. It was purposeful—- but never any less. Unfortunately, Romeo was not a professional and he had no way of knowing such a love could exist and perhaps he’d never know. All he knew in that moment was that he hadn’t felt a deep emotional connection at all. Alas, such was his tragedy. A king of hell condemned to inhabit a mind that prevented him from realizing its own state. He could not fix it, could not change it, could not know it. Omniscient and catastrophically ignorant, Romeo was doomed to destroy himself.
“Don’t,” he replied, feeling sick and cleansed all at once as Olivia approached. He should’ve known she would follow him out. “Just don’t fucking apologize.” His voice was hoarse but lacking the savagery previously accompanied. She was calling for a ceasefire and with the glass-shattering revelation experienced moments prior he was all too willing to comply. “Tell them whatever you want, it’s probably true, anyway.” Pulling a box from his pocket, he produced a cigarette. Romeo didn’t smoke—- not often, at least. Barely at all. But the small sin had been kicked into a somewhat regular appearance the past couple weeks. As he placed it between his lips, bringing the lighter to the end, something in Romeo felt broken. Like a wave creeping to the shore, he could feel the wall between him and Olivia. Him and the world. Because while he didn’t know why he couldn’t feel emotionally connected to her, he knew it wasn’t normal. That something was wrong. He’d always known it, but now it was especially glaring. Inhaling the burning smoke, he let it hang in his lungs for a moment before slowly breathing it out. He was… sad. For himself and for what he lacked. “Can you drive me home?” The question was softer. “I don’t want to be alone.” And in that moment, no truer words had been spoken from Romeo. Ever. He’d given voice to a feeling that’d plagued him all his life. That of an outsider looking in who could never completely comprehend the world around him. Of someone who wasn’t “right.”
Hesitance swept across her face, before settling deep in her bones. Romeo’s mild adjuration was enough to cause a silent ripple of confusion through Liv’s chest. There had been no doubts in her mind prior to this moment, that asking her for this faint favor was likely the product of a last resort. As it shouldn’t take a genius to know or sensibly understand that, she wasn’t his favorite person right now. There were a ton of other people he could have called or turned to for this manner of help. But for whatever reason, he’d chosen her. Maybe out of convenience? And sure — perhaps weeks ago, Olivia wouldn’t have even second guessed it, much less questioned it. She would have simply done it and moved on. But over the course of the last two months, she’d developed a more sensible approach to things, including that of her interpersonal relationships. Relying on her heart to get her places had truly, never gotten her anywhere. Therefore, these days she resorted to using her head, her logic, instead. And right now, her head was urging her to tell him no, absolutely not. Not because she didn’t care that he was hurting, or that she didn’t love him enough to drop whatever she was doing in his evident time of need. No. The problem was, she did care. And she did love him all the same. Yet all her love ever did or morph into was another clusterfuck of emotions and heartache for her to inevitably sift through. She should’ve said no. She certainly wanted to. But alas she knew, deep down, when it came to someone like Romeo —- Olivia never had the heart, nor the sensibility to turn him down when he asked her for something. Even when she needed to the most. In that respect, he’d become something of a blind exception to every wall she tried to put up. Romeo could bend and break her to his will, until there was nothing left of her and she’d still never give up on him. Even on her death bed, she’d still believe in him. It was as frustrating and stupid as it sounded. And she hated it. She wished it wasn’t like that.
Granted —- what she hated more than any of the above, was learning that Romeo didn’t wish to be alone. His words echoing and telling her as much, highlighted that very, bold faced fact. It was as if he had spoken from experience and could no longer tolerate the brittling feeling on his own. Thus he needed her help, or really anyone’s to alleviate it. It was a staggering admission for someone of his nature to make, and it was also incredibly rare. Not to mention —- the way he said it, left a disconcerting, unsettling, pit in her stomach. Olivia knew and understood that there stood a magnificent difference between someone; feeling alone and feeling lonely. One was a state of being, while the other was a state of mind. And as far as Olivia could tell or gather, Romeo seemed to fall more on the spectrum of the latter. He wasn’t alone per se. He had River, he had Aubrey, he had Winnie, and yes, he even had her. He was lonely. She knew this with the utmost certainty because, looking at him now, and having as much confirmed, Romeo hadn’t spent many of his nights alone. It was obvious he’d been surrounded by people, by women, by places and things, and still felt lonely at the end of the day. No amount of drugs, or alcohol, or cars, or money, or sex could ever fix that or fill the void he was probably trying to. Not when they were seen as momentary pleasures. They came and went all too quick. As they should given the purpose they overall serve. They weren’t fulfilling because they didn’t pack much meaning, at all.
Had the two of them not grown so far apart to the point where they barely even talked about things like this, Olivia might’ve shed some light on that, too. She might’ve offered him some perspective on the matter, in exchange for nothing else. Whether or not he took that and adapted it however, was purely up to him. It was his own prerogative. But, the problem was... they didn’t talk. They don’t talk about anything, really. Everything Olivia knew or learned of him lately, she’d had to discover from those that which surrounded him. People like River, Violet, or even Aubrey. Though no one besides River had really offered her anything valuable to go off of. One piece of advice he’d given her, that struck her rather fiercely in the moment, was River telling her that if she should worry about anyone — it should be Romeo. In his words, he needed it more. And perhaps, this was precisely why? Loneliness was not unlike a disease. The longer it went untreated, the more viciously it seemed to suppurate and then ultimately manifest. It would keep coming back for more until the source of it was located and remedied. Romeo, as far as she could tell, was headed down a dark path, a slippery slope. One that threatened to consume him and maybe even push him to the brink of his own extinction. Unless he got help, -—- real help —- there’d be no hope of bringing him back. And her fears of losing him for good, really would come true. Consequently, Olivia felt (now more than ever) compelled to help him. And as a result, she finally settled on her answer. All the while hoping she wouldn’t come to regret it later. Alas, she told herself she was simply doing him a favor and it would, by no means, lead anywhere else. Once her duty had been fulfilled, she’d go on about her day, leave him be. Knowing whatever he chose to do afterwards was not under her control. Therefore, she wouldn’t feel responsible for it. This mainly for her own safety, not out of a desire to distance herself from him.
“Yeah. Okay,” She nodded, reluctantly. Further adhering to the softness of his request. “I didn’t drive though, so —-” her petite shoulders lifted in a shrug as she took a cautious step forward, ignoring the clouds of smoke that seemed to surround her in doing so. “It may help if lend me your keys. And give me your address.” It wasn’t until that moment, when her palm splayed open, that it actually dawned on her. He might’ve known where she lived but, she’d never gotten that far with him. Probably for good reason, though. The less she knew about where to find him, the less likely she’d be to seek him out when she felt lonely herself. Or worse, when she missed him.
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