Chapter Text
One of us is crying, one of us is lying
In a lonely bed
Staring at the ceiling
Wishing she was somewhere else insteadOne of us is lonely, one of us is only
Waiting for a call
Sorry for herself, feeling stupid, feeling small
Wishing she had never left at all
Maybe if she hadn’t spent so much time in Drew’s ridiculously luxurious, million dollars bed, her own bed wouldn’t feel so shitty right now.
Because, obviously, that was what was keeping her from falling asleep at 2 am. Her uncomfortable bed. Not the pain she felt —physically, not that metaphorical crap— in her chest every time she thought about her.
Which was basically all the time.
Nyssa had once heard a bisexual woman saying that, when she was in a relationship with a man and they broke up, it hurt really badly, but, when she broke up with a woman, it felt absolutely devastating in every possible way.
That seemed really accurate.
Nyssa felt as if her heart was being shattered in a million pieces, as if her entire soul had been drained, as if she no longer had the energy for anything, as if it was even hard to simply breathe.
She wanted to be with Drew. She said she didn’t, and she knew she shouldn’t, but she did. She wanted to be with her so badly that her body couldn’t stand the feeling of being alone in her empty, shitty bed.
She curled up on one side, not even realizing when the warm tears began rolling down her cheeks.
She wanted Drew to come crawling back to her and get in her bed. She wanted her to apologize and hug her and kiss her. Or, at least, if none of that was posible, she wanted her to hurt the way she was hurting.
Yeah, as if that would ever happen.
Drew probably hadn’t even noticed it when Nyssa had left her house one week ago, in the middle of the night. When Nyssa had finally decided that she had had enough. When Nyssa had become tired of not seeing her, or hearing about her, all day, and tired of spending countless hours waiting for her in bed. When Nyssa had become fed up with Drew coming home every night at midnight or later, wearing one of her party mini-dresses and high heels, and barely even getting to take off her clothes before passing out next to her. When Nyssa had determined she didn't deserve to feel abandoned and neglected and alone and hurt, not even for one more day.
She glanced at her phone.
Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t-
She opened Instagram.
Ah, there she was. Partying like there was no tomorrow with Karlie —or was it Barbara? Grace? Taylor? Who knew, honestly; all those skinny white women looked the same.
Then, she opened the messages app. The last texts from Drew were from two days ago.
“Please, let’s talk”.
“Please come back”.
“I miss you”.
“I love you”.
Nyssa’s eyes burned with tears as she reread them.
She wanted to believe those words, she wanted to believe them so badly, but she knew deep down that, if they were true, they wouldn't be just words. If she wanted to, Drew would find the way to translate them into acts. She would show up at her door, say that she was sorry and talk things out with her. She would give her more than ten minutes of her precious time a day. If she truly loved her, she would show it to her with actions, not just with empty words.
Nyssa left her phone at her side and stared at it for a long time.
If Drew cared about her, at the very least she would fucking call.