⌞ REANIMATION ⌝
જ⁀➴ pairing | tweener apolskis x reader
જ⁀➴ word count | 6.7k
જ⁀➴ warnings | follows the story of his prison break era so if you haven’t watched it’s a spoiler!! death, ANGST, heartbreak, back and forth with tweener, mentions of cuts/bruises, mention of murderers and rapists in jail (allusion to rape in prison), some fluff (i’m not a total monster). lmk if i forgot any
જ⁀➴ synopsis | tweener was your one true love. but life kept getting in the way of your relationship while simultaneously finding a way to bring you back together. or, the 5 times you kissed and the one time he couldn’t kiss you back.
જ⁀➴ notes | okay this was supposed to be a blurb but i got a little carried away!
જ⁀➴ april 17th | april blurb queue
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as fast as tweener appeared into your life he disappeared. you were used to it, more than used to it, it was your routine with him. but this was different.
the first time you kissed david, you were barely sixteen. he was seventeen with big green eyes and a smile that would daze an entire room. he was your first kiss at charlotte’s diner on your first date. he kissed you like he loved you, which, though he had no idea at the time, he did.
you met him in one of your classes, instantly enamored by him. he introduced himself as tweener, laughing as you tried to pry his real name out of him. you tried for weeks, finally finding out under the bleachers at the homecoming game as the two of you shared a joint.
"seriously," you raised a curious brow as you passed the joint to him, "what is it? i know for a fact your mom and dad didn't name you tweener."
"you really wanna know that bad?" he smirked at you before taking a puff, your heart fluttering in your stomach at the sight. god, he was beautiful. the way the smoke trailed slowly up his face, the way he let it flow from his lips.
"yeah," you smirk back, big doe eyes gazing up at him as a smile crept onto your lips. "i do."
"fine," he huffed jokingly, "gimme a kiss and i'll tell you what it is."
"a kiss? seriously?" you'd be lying if you said you didn't wanna kiss him as soon as you met him. "you do this to all the girls?"
his cheeks flushed red at that, "nah," shaking his head as he began wringing his hands, confidence slightly depleted. "just you, sweetheart. i don't know what it is about you, but i figured i'd shoot my shot."
"fine," you mimicked his response from before, "i'll give you a kiss."
his smirk returned as he leaned closer to you, eyes closed and lips puckered. you leaned in, eyes mostly closed but open just enough to dodge his lips at the last second and peck his cheek. "i'm not that easy, apolskis. hand it over."
tweener laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back at you and extending the hand holding the joint, "yea, i should've figured that one, huh?"
"yep," you smile triumphantly then take a couple puffs. "now, what's your name?"
"my name is david." he has no idea why he's telling you this, considering he only met you at a little over a month ago. the two of you had been texting back and forth ever since, though. he had to admit, only to himself, that he was developing serious feelings for you.
"david," you repeat softly, loving the way the name falls from your lips. "i like that."
"yea?" he raises his brows at you, "what are you doin' tomorrow night?"
"it depends."
"on what?"
"if you're asking me on a date or not," you feel the warmth filling your chest, the butterflies in your stomach as the saliva in your mouth dissipates almost instantly.
"it depends." he mimics you this time.
"on what?"
"if you'd say yes or not."
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the second time you kissed david was two years later. this time, you were eighteen and him nineteen. you’d been graduated for a few months and he was working as a busboy at a local restaurant. after that date with him, the two of you went steady for about a year before your family up and moved to st. louis, and the two of you just trailed off. never truly ending it, but never really continuing it. you wanted to try long-distance but the fights got in the way and the change in setting, friends, school, clubs, all of it— it was like you had absolutely nothing in common anymore. so the mental distance grew and the two of you just faded until the calls stopped coming and the texts turned into being left on read.
you were back in chicago visiting some old friends for one of their birthdays. part of you, in the back of your mind, prayed that you'd see him again, get some form of closure on the whole thing. the rest of you hoped that he was onto bigger and better things than chicago.
the restaurant your friend janie wanted to go to for her birthday dinner was one that you grew up loving. charlotte's diner was a local delicacy, a little hole-in-the-wall diner that had the best onion rings and burgers you'd ever had. it was retro on the inside, with the old 60's style bench seats and tables, lots of old photos and records on the wall and even an old-fashioned working jukebox that you could pop a quarter into and listen to music from, your favorite part about it as a child.
charlotte's was also the restaurant david took you to for your first official date. the nostalgia was nearly debilitating, your mind trailing back to dinners with your family in the corner booth, dancing on your dad's shoes at six years old, studying with friends at the bar, and the most saddening— your date with david.
he was such a gentleman that entire night, you recall fondly. he held the door for you, paid for your meal, he even showed up with flowers. the two of you stayed there for hours, until charlotte came out and kicked you out at nearly 2 AM so they could close up.
snapping you from your thoughts, janie smacks your arm, "what are you getting?"
"uh," you go to look at the menu before realizing that you would probably just get the same thing you always get. "double cheeseburger with onion rings. it's my go-to."
she nods at that, scanning over the menu that she also had committed to memory. "i want something different than normal," she hums, chewing at her cheeks. "i might do chili cheese fries."
"those are really good too," you nod, your other friends chirping in their orders and thoughts on the subject.
the waitress comes to the table, her name tag reading jordyn in a bubbly handwriting with little stars and smiley faces splattered across the open space. each of you tell her your orders and she walks to the back of house to let the kitchen know.
you fish out a few quarters from your purse before heading to the jukebox. joan jett, madonna, elvis, and other classic 70's and 80's hits fill the music archive. you flip through the slides searching for something specific.
you smile softly upon finding it; all out of love by air supply. the memories flood back even more, your mind now overtaken by the sound of david's horrible singing and your giggling. he insisted on playing the song every time the two of you went to charlotte's, swearing that it was exactly how he felt about you.
the song fills the quaint diner, the sound of air supply's melancholic voice overtaking the sounds of dishes clanking and clacking from the back of house.
david exits the back through one of the sets of swinging kitchen doors. he's got headphones plugged into his phone, one earbud in and the other one tucked into the top of his shirt. he's clearing off tables, as he's done a thousand times over.
then he hears it. air supply. more specifically, though, the song he can't listen to at all without getting choked up.
he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with you, then your family moved and it was like all his hopes and dreams came crashing down around him.
then he thought about it; nobody plays that song here. nobody listens to that song in this day and age.
so, with his heart pounding in his throat, he turns and scans the room. his eyes go wide, almost as if he'd seen a ghost appear on the other side of the diner.
he watches you intently for a moment, watches as you stand over the juke box, unmoving as if you're trapped in a trance and he knows. he knows exactly what's going through your mind in that moment because it's going through his too.
he musters up the courage to go over to you after a few moments, knowing that he needs to do it now before you go and sit back down with your friends.
david makes his way over to you, bus tub in hand, gnawing at the insides of his lips. what should he even say to you? what will you say to him? he's petrified, honestly, trying desperately to figure out what to say to you.
then you turn your head, as if you felt his presence, your own eyes going wide and your waterline filling slowly. “holy shit,” you breathe out, gulping softly as you notice him. “david?”
“hey, sweetheart,” he flashes you that smile, the one that you’ve thought about nearly daily since you moved away. this time, though, it's more melancholic, doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
the girls at the table are watching the two of you intently, not quite close enough to hear the conversation but they’ve got an idea of what’s going on. janie feels your pain and confusion from across the diner, knowing each and every part of the relationship since the beginning as your best friend. she’s heard nothing but david this and david that since you moved away.
you stand there, unmoving as you take in the sight of him. he’s still as gorgeous as ever, his hair freshly cut and his jawline somehow sharper than before. he looks as though he’s been working out, his biceps popping through the tight-fitting work shirt.
“it’s good to see you,” he utters softly, completely unsure of himself. “how, uh, how have you been?”
“good,” you nod, “really good. what about you? you look great.”
“i’ve been a’ight,” he shrugs, gesturing around himself, “still here, so not much i can really do these days, but i been makin’ it.”
“i’m here with janie and the girls for her birthday, but, we should get together before i leave, okay?” your heart aches at the fact that you have to end the conversation.
“yea, we should,” he nods immediately, smiling more at that, “i get off at 10 if that’s not too late for you, i know you got an early bedtime.”
you laugh at the fact that he remembers that, “never too late for you, davey.”
he picks up on the double meaning behind your words, his gut clenching at the nickname he hasn’t heard in two years. “great.”
“great,” you echo, a soft smile gracing your face. “see you tonight.”
“see you tonight, sweetheart.”
throughout the dinner and for the rest of the night, david was all you could think about. every time he came out to bus a table, the two of you locked eyes, your heart jumping each and every time. he’d flash a smile at you and a wink and you’d grin and turn away, just like old times.
by the time it finally reached 10, you were back at the diner, sitting in your old favorite booth in the corner, doodling in your notebook. he slides into the booth next to you around 10:05.
“sorry i’m late,” he smiles at you, “charlotte needed me to clean a few things in the back before she’d let me clock out.”
“no worries,” you smile back, “you wanna get out of here?”
he nods before sliding out of the booth, holding his hand out for you just like he used to.
you grab his hand, letting him lead you out of the diner to his truck. “you still have this thing?”
“hey, don’t diss my baby,” he holds his arms out defensively, “she’s never let me down.”
“what about that time it was pouring and we were trapped outside the movie theater?”
“that was one time!”
the two of you burst into laughter as you slide into the bench seat of the truck. he leaves it turned off, just allowing you to talk in peace.
“never thought i’d see you again,” he mutters softly after a moment of silence.
“same,” you hum back, “i’m glad i did though, i uh, i’m really sorry for the way it all went down.”
“none of that was your fault, sweetheart, don’t let that get to you,” he brushes it off, letting his arm fall over your shoulder. “i’m just glad you’re back.”
“me too, davey,” you relish the feeling of his arm around you, allowing yourself to let your weight fall into his side. “god, i missed you.”
he could cry at that statement, “me too, baby, me too.”
you turn your head up toward him, not entirely sure of where the boost of confidence came from, and kiss him. the feeling of your lips against his after so long has your head reeling, his hands falling into place cupping your jaw and the back of your head. it’s so intense, so full of love even after all this time.
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the third time you kissed david was in fox river. after your reunion in chicago, you spent the night together before you went back to missouri. you cried the entire way home, angry at the universe for forcing you apart again, angry at your parents for taking you away in the first place, angry at yourself for not being able to let him go.
after about six months, you began feeling better about the situation, and came to grips with the fact that there was nothing else you could do. you went about your life, got a job at the library near campus and spent most of your shifts drawing.
you couldn’t help that half of your doodles were the bits and pieces of david and your relationship with him that you had, he was your inspiration. he had been your inspiration since the first time you saw him. jukeboxes and little miniature doodles of his side profile and his truck and other moments and trinkets you shared with him over time filled the pages of your notebook.
when you heard the news of his arrest and his conviction and sentence to fox river you sobbed for days. you couldn’t comprehend how he could’ve been sent to prison six months after you saw him. couldn’t understand what was so bad about his life that he had to commit grand larceny. you didn’t even know what that meant until you looked it up, either, so you were almost sure he didn’t either.
you went to fox river, went to visit him, to find out the truth and figure out how to get over him. maybe this was how you’d be able to end it once and for all.
the prison was dimly lit and smelled like mildew. it held an air of depression and anger, pieces of all of its prisoner’s, both past and present, spirits trapped within its walls. guards led you to the visiting room. since it was a non-violent crime, he was able to sit at a table with you.
david’s head perked up at the sound of bellick’s voice. “tweener, y’got a visitor!”
he was confused, unsure of who could possibly be visiting him in prison. he got up from his cot, turned his back to bellick and held his hands behind him so brad could hook the cuffs on his wrists. he kept his guard up, face stone cold as he traversed down the corridors to the visiting room. his mind was reeling, desperately trying to figure out who the visitor could be before he got there. maybe his mom? nah, most likely not. and definitely not his dad since he hadn’t seen the man since he was fourteen. couldn’t be his lawyer, he already came the day before.
he was truly stumped.
not once did it ever occur to him that it could’ve been you.
david freezes in the doorway at the sight of you. sitting at the cold metal table, picking at your cuticles quickly and violently as your hands tremble with anxiety. you’d never been in a prison before, never even knew anyone who’d been arrested.
bellick gave him a sharp shove after removing the cuffs from his wrists. “go on, tweener. you got five minutes.”
your head snaps over toward the use of david’s old nickname. your heart shatters at the sight of him. he looks so small in this place, so young compared to everyone else. and he is, he’s not even old enough to buy a beer yet and he’s surrounded by murderers and other horrible people, who’ve done all types of unspeakable crimes. monsters.
a lamb trapped in the lion’s den.
“y/n?” he whispers as he sits at the table. “what are you- how did you know where i was?”
“janie sent me the article,” you reply quietly. “what are you doing here, david? what did you do?”
“listen to me, baby,” he pleads.
“don’t.” you snap back sharply, he flinches. “don’t call me that.”
he shrinks at your response. it’s like he can’t even look at you without wanting to puke. he puts his hands atop the table, grasping each other as he takes a deep breath. “it’s not what you think, i swear it. i’m not a criminal, i’m not— i don’t belong here.”
you scoff wryly at that, “grand larceny? that sounds pretty fucking bad, david.”
“alls i did was steal a damn baseball card from jt’s dad,” his eyes are full of despair as he lifts his head to look up at you. “look, i’m telling you the truth bab—y/n, i mean it. we were going through his dad’s old box of baseball cards and i-i didn’t think he’d even notice it was gone, but he did. then i get pulled over and next thing i know i'm in here with murderers and rapists and i,” he breathes out shakily, “i’m so scared all the time, my bunkie—- he’s, uh, well let’s just say he’s one of the ones i just mentioned.”
your stomach churns at that, and at the bruises and cuts you notice on his features. his lips cracked and slightly scabbed over, his eyes sunken in from lack of sleep and his jaws and cheekbones littered with nearly healed cuts and bruises.
“what did they do to you?” you whisper in horror.
“i can’t,” he shakes his head, looking away from you to bellick who flashes him a peace sign, signaling that he has 2 minutes left. “i don’t got much time left, please, i really don’t wanna spend it talking about me, aight?”
your shoulders drop with defeat, the cold resolve you walked in with melting and transforming to despair as you see him in this fragile state, a shell of himself—of the man you love. of the man you fell in love with. “okay, davey.”
you watch his lip tremble for a moment before he takes a sharp breath, letting out a breathless laugh. “i’m happy you’re here, seriously you have no idea how good it is to see your beautiful face, baby, but i don’t want you coming back here ever again, you got me?”
“but—“
“no.”
“okay,” you nod again, eyes filling with tears as you lean toward him, “i love you, david. i always have, i always will. i just need you to know that, okay?”
his face contorts in pain, biting harshly at his lip to contain the emotion threatening to burst out of him. “i love you, baby, i never stopped.”
you lean in, taking a risk that you know might get you in trouble but you don’t care, you can’t leave without it.
your lips clash against his, his hands coming up to grip your face desperately like a man starving. the kiss lasts all of three seconds before bellick appears behind him, cussing and hollering about not touching the prisoners.
you flinch at the use of the word at david. prisoner. he’s just a kid, you want to retort angrily, but you hold your tongue.
tears flow freely down your cheeks as you watch bellick return the cuffs to david’s wrists behind his back. “i love you,” he mouths silently at you, giving you his signature wink, his expression cold yet full of emotion that only you can notice. “don’t come back here, y/n.”
by the time you make it back to your car, you’re inconsolable. ugly, hot tears flow down your face and into your mouth as you pant, nearly on the edge of a panic attack. you grip at your shirt and your jeans, feeling far too tight all of a sudden and crank the a/c to the coldest setting.
you try to self-soothe, turning the radio on to drown out the utter despair you feel, the pain only amplifying as all out of love flows through the speakers of your shitty old 4-runner.
the tears only stream harder and faster now. you know you should change the station, or at least turn the radio off, but you can’t. it’s as if the stupid cheesy song from the 80’s is all you have left of the man you thought you would marry one day.
and at this point, it is all you have left of him.
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the fourth time you kissed david was in colorado.
you had just gotten off work at the library in st. louis, making your way to your car at the back of the building.
it wasn’t the first time today you felt as though you were being watched, the eerie sensation causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand at attention, your breaths sharp and shallow as you speed-walk through the dim parking lot.
the battery in your key fob was dead, one of the mundane tasks you’ve been telling yourself to complete for months, one of the many that’s gotten swept under the rug and added to tomorrow’s list too many times.
by the time you make it to your car, your hands are shaking with fear and stress as you struggle to unlock the driver’s door of the 4-runner. the key jams in the lock of the door, an issue that had been occurring for months on and off.
in the reflection of the window, you see someone approaching, only causing you to tremble more as you cuss at the key, your heart pounding in your throat. your other hand reaches into your bag, gripping the handle of the knife david gifted you years ago. it was your favorite color, with your initials carved into the mahogany handle. he gave it to you after dropping your old one into the chicago river on accident while on an attempt at a picnic date. you didn’t mind at the time, especially since getting the new one from him, with that much thought put into it, was much more special anyway.
you feel hands around your mouth and arms before you even have time to react, a scream caught in your throat as you begin thrashing desperately.
then you hear it. him. that voice you know all too well.
“y/n, stop, stop it’s okay,” he soothes softly, head scanning the area. “it’s me.”
you stop fighting him and begin to calm down as he lets you go. you turn to face him, eyes wide in shock, your pupils still blown with the adrenaline of everything.
“david?”
“shh!” he keeps looking around him, making sure nobody else is outside or even parked in the lot. he’s got a baseball cap on with a jacket, the brim pulled low on his face. though most of it is captured within the hat, you can tell he’s got a buzz cut. “listen, i need your help. i didn’t know where else to go.”
“i can't,” you gape at him, in complete awe at the man standing in front of you for so many reasons. “david, you’re a fugitive. you broke out of prison i can’t be seen with you. i-i want to have a life—i can’t get dragged into this, i’m sorry.”
“no listen,” he pleads, “i wouldn’t be here if i had anywhere else to go. i just need to get to utah, aight? then i’m outta your hair forever i swear to god, i am. i’ll die if i don't get there as soon as possible, y/n. i can’t do this alone and i can't trust anyone but you, baby.”
you sigh deeply, simply staring at him for a moment. “why utah?”
“i can’t tell you,” he shakes his head.
“then no deal,” you shrug, “i’m not driving you 20 hours across the country with no idea where we’re heading or why utah is so damn important.”
david hesitates for a moment as if he’s weighing his options— options he doesn’t have. “there’s $5 million buried on a ranch in utah and i’m gonna get it. i’m giving you half and i’m using the rest to get me out of the states and a whole new identity.”
you have no words to reply to that, simply blinking at him as you try to process it.
“like i said, out of your hair as soon as i get it.”
the entire thing seemed much too good to be true. “what’s the catch, here?”
“there’s seven other people trying to go get it too.”
you sigh heavily, eyes closed tightly with a mixture of aggravation and sadness. “get in the car.”
“wha—seriously?”
“get in the car, david,” you repeat, much firmer the second time as you begin climbing into the vehicle.
he does as he’s told, clips his seatbelt in and leans his seat back slightly. “you just gotta get me to utah and then i’m outta your hair. i promise you that, sweetheart. i’ll send you the money as soon as i can and you won’t ever have to think about me or worry about me ever again, aight?”
you drive in silence for a while, unresponsive to his ramblings as you think. about his words, about your situation, about the money, about the others that escaped with him that might beat you there — then what?
“no,” you shake your head after a few beats of silence.
“no?”
“i’m not just taking you to utah,” you won’t look at him, the anger consuming all the atoms in your body in this very moment, “david. i haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day that i met you in mr. washburn’s class. do you remember that?”
“of course i remember that.” it’s soft spoken, almost as if a child were being berated by their parent.
“i’ve been in love with you for three years now damn near,” you let out a harsh scoff, “dreamt about you, about us and a future that i wanted more than anything. that i still want. and i know it’s not all your fault, but prison, david? escaping prison?!”
he flinches at the shrillness of your tone, “you don’t understand, y/n, i was gonna die in there. i’d have killed myself if i didn’t make it out soon.”
a tear slides down your cheek at that. “i know. i saw it all over your face when i went to fox river to visit you,” you pause for a beat, gnawing at the insides of your cheeks anxiously, “which is why i'm helping you until the end. i’m helping you, and i’m coming with you.”
“what?”
“out of the states, i’m coming with you.”
“y/n, no, i can’t let you do that. i-i can’t let you get hurt because of me.”
“that’s not your choice to make, i’m coming with you and i’m making damn sure you live to see the end of this, okay? that’s the deal or i’m stopping the car and you can get to utah your damn self, you got it?”
he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths as he takes in your words. “aight fine.”
“good, glad we’re on the same page,” you give him a soft smile as you keep driving.
after about twelve hours on the road, you stop at a motel in watkins, colorado. it’s around 8 in the morning, and you go to the front desk alone to rent out a room for the day.
the plan was to sleep through the daylight hours and leave after sundown in hopes that would be enough for him to go undetected.
you return a few minutes later and enter the room by yourself, leaving the door unlocked for him. he waits a few beats before heading in, the brim on his hat pulled as low as he could get it.
once he makes it into the room, he locks the deadbolt and chain behind him, fastening the curtains closed as tight as he can get them.
he lets out a deep breath of relief as he sits on the edge of the bed. you stand near him, finally giving yourself a moment to take in the sight of the man in front of you.
david looks up at you, big green eyes wide and full of admiration for the woman in front of him, and full of regret for dragging you into this mess.
you move to stand between his legs, leaning down to cup his face in your hands. “did i ever tell you how gorgeous you are?”
he lets out a laugh at your question, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you in closer. “did i ever tell you how much i love you?”
you nod, leaning down as you kiss him. this time it’s not desperate, but full of all of the things you wish you could’ve said to each other over the years. all of the regrets and the what if’s flowing between your lips wordlessly.
after a few minutes, you pull away, “okay, go take a shower, then we can get some sleep and head out tonight.”
he nods, giving you one more peck on the lips before heading into the bathroom.
david’s in the shower when you hear the knock on the door. your heart in your throat, you move to check the peephole. it’s a cop, his cruiser parked outside the motel.
did he see you? did he see david? does he know?
you take a deep breath before opening the door, “hi, officer! what can i do for you?”
the water in the bathroom turned off before you opened the door, so you made sure to say the first part loud enough for david to hear but not so loud that it was odd.
“hello, miss,” he greets you with a kind smile, “all the police departments in the area have been tasked with being sure these images get out to the public and seeing if we can gather any leads about where these fugitives may be. can i show you some images?”
“sure thing,” you close the door behind you as you step out onto the front porch area of the motel, “my little sister just got out the shower and she has a tendency to forget her clothes in the room, so i don’t want her to freak out when she sees you,” you explain naturally, letting out a soft laugh.
“of course,” he nods, seemingly unaware that one of the fugitives he’s about to show you is on the other side of that door. he hands you a stack of seven pictures, “let me know if you’ve seen any of these men the last few days or so.” mentally, you’ve already begun preparing yourself to see david’s mugshot and not react.
though you kept a stone face for the cop as you said, “no, sir, i haven’t seen any of these guys in my life,” you couldn’t help the way your stomach twisted at the image of david, eyes full of fear as he stood in that place. it’s like your mom always used to say, the eyes don’t lie.
the officer thanked you for your time before moving on to the next room. you made sure to enter through the smallest crack in the door you could possibly fit through, and locked it behind you.
“what was that?” david questions from the doorway of the bathroom, fully dressed and eyes blown with anxiety.
“he was showing me the mugshots of all the guys that escaped,” you explained quietly, “wanted to know if i’d seen any of them around.”
david lets out a deep sigh as he rubs his hands over his face roughly. “god, all of this is so fucked.”
“hey, it’s gonna be okay,” you move toward him, putting your hands on his shoulders gently, “we’re gonna figure it out and when we do, we’ll be $5 million richer.”
he scans your face, almost as if he’s committing it to memory, then gives you another kiss. this time, full of desperation. he pulls away, pulling you close as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you were sure he could suffocate you with how tight he was holding you, but you didn’t care.
after a few long moments of standing like that, he pulls away, “go get cleaned up, sweetheart, so we can get some rest, aight?”
you nod, giving him a sweet smile as you make your way to the bathroom.
once inside, he rummages through your purse for your notebook and favorite pen. tears stream down his cheeks at the drawings and poems littering the pages.
drawings of him, his truck, the house you grew up in. his old dog, rusty. his necklace and rings all sketched out in different ways all over the place. little poems about him and the two of you and the despair that rang through your soul daily at the way things had to end.
he hates that he’s about to be the reason for more pages like this.
he takes the pen, opens the spiral bound notebook to the last page and flips the cover around the back. he writes, in his unique, nearly graffiti-like handwriting;
i’m sorry. i can’t let you get hurt. i love you more than life itself, please go home. you gotta let me go.
— D
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the fifth time you kissed david was on the front porch of your own home.
after david left you in that motel room, you spent days in bed. it felt as if life was playing some cruel, cruel trick on you. you had no idea what to do, no way to contact him or even know if he was alive. no way to know what was going on in his head or get a proper goodbye, even.
you had no energy, none to draw or write, only to cry and lie there as if there was no purpose anymore. you had him, and you lost him. again and again and again— the story of your life with david apolskis.
you’re making lunch, a chicken and dumpling soup that your mom taught you how to make a while back. it’s simple, but a classic that somehow always makes you feel even the slightest bit better.
your dog starts barking at the window, and you’re sure it’s just the mailman or somebody walking their own dog in front of the house. but ringo is relentless, growing more and more agitated as whatever it is gets closer.
you turn the burner on the stove to the lowest setting and stir the pot one last time before heading toward the window to see what’s causing all the commotion. a knock rattles the front door before you even make it to the window.
upon opening the door, you gasp, eyes wide and agony written across your expression.
“davey?”
“i don’t got much time, aight?” he starts. he’s drenched in sweat and he’s got a scabbed-over gash across the side of his head. “i had to tell you somethin. what you did for me back at the motel, i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget you. you’ve been the love of my life since i met you, y/n. i’m sorry it all went down this way but i love you.” he moves toward you, grabs your face and kisses you.
you don’t have time to react, you barely have time to kiss him back before feds are on your doorstep.
“i’ll be writing you, baby,” he’s smiling as he puts his hands on his head. “i love you, don't you forget that.”
you’re sobbing as you stand, motionless in the doorway of your own home. you watch as they cuff him.
“i’ll write you, sweetheart,” he flashes you that damn wink and you feel as though you can’t breathe. you drop to your knees, sobs flowing freely from your throat as you watch them drag him down your sidewalk and to unmarked black SUVs, skirting away.
you make eye contact with one of the agents, the one that seems to be in charge of the operation. he flashes you a quarter of a smile as he watches you break down in the threshold.
he moves toward you, stopping on the top step of the porch. “listen, kid,” he begins.
“get off my porch,” you choke out, looking up at him with red eyes before pulling yourself up.
“do yourself a favor and let him go,” he finishes, walking back to his car and leaving without saying another word.
you force yourself back into the house, flop down on the couch, and scream at the top of your lungs into the couch cushions. ringo’s by your side, licking and nudging you in an attempt to give you some sort of comfort.
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the last time you kissed david was in chicago.
eight months after he showed up on your doorstep, you found out his location. janie sent it to you, along with a long message about finding peace and getting back to your own life. you didn’t reply, simply liked the message and saved the address for a different day, a day that you could muster up the courage to go and visit.
and today, the day of his birthday, was that day. you felt like you owed it to him — to yourself to go and tell him everything you never had the time to before.
the drive is in silence, a bouquet of blue and yellow flowers rests in your passenger seat, david’s favorite colors. you wear the same outfit you wore on your first date to charlotte’s all those years ago.
you park on the side of some gravel road, sneakers crunching against the rocks as you make your way to david. tears are already streaming by the time you see him.
he’s beautiful. a picture of him from his senior year of high school embedded permanently into a marble headstone
david “tweener” apolskis.
until we meet again.
“hi, davey,” you sit on the grass in front of the stone, placing the flowers you brought into the little built-in holder at the bottom of the marble. ”happy birthday, baby.”
you let out a soft sob, “god, i wish you were here right now. i wish you could give me another hug or a kiss or something.”
your fingers trace over the carvings in the marble repeatedly. “i miss you, man. i miss all of it.”
you wipe at your face with the inside of your shirt, the sun beaming down on you harshly.
“i feel like i don’t know what i'm doing anymore. i wish you could be here, i wish we could’ve got the money and made it out of this hellhole and had our little life together. i should’ve been there for you.” you wished you could snap your fingers and reanimate him, bring him back to life like how they do on all those stupid sci-fi shows he used to make you watch with him.
your mind flashes images of him, like little movie reels floating through your head. him laughing and smiling, playing basketball, the two of you dancing and hugging and kissing. all of it, your entire lives together, reduced simply to memories.
after nearly two hours at the grave, you finally stood, tears streaming but no more sobs emitting past your lips.
you leaned down and kissed the top of the stone.
“until we meet again, my love.”
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