Fill Me (Rouse Me 3)

It's still playful. He's joking now. But when we're back in the same place and this still isn't resolved...

"Maybe I should go," I say.

"Maybe you should humor me and tell me what you were 'just thinking.'"

I press the phone against my ear, sliding my fingers over its glass back. "You won't like it."

"You aren't the expert on everything I like. There are plenty of things I like that you know nothing about."

Another tear rolls down my cheek. I try and blink it away, but it only makes everything around me blurry, like some kind of Instagram filter from hell. Stop. Please fucking stop. I can't cry, not now, not on the phone with Luke, not after we supposedly solved whatever the hell this is.

Not now.

I choke back a sob. Fuck. My throat is dry and ragged, my face stinging from this god damn onslaught of tears.

"Ally."

He's concerned. Again. I merit concern. Again.

"It's nothing." I wipe the tears from my cheeks, wiping my hand against the sheets to dry it.

"Talk to me."

"I can't."

He sighs, low and heavy. "You were talking a few minutes ago."

"I'm going to go." I slide my fingers over the edges of the phone. It's so slick and smooth. It repels anything that tries to stick to the surface.

It's resistant but not strong. One little drop and its screen will shatter.

"And cry in your room by yourself?"

"I'm fine."

He sighs, again. Annoyed, again. "Don't do this. Don't shut me out."

"I'm not doing anything. I'm fine. Tired, but fine."

"You're crying."

"I'm well aware of that." I blink back another tear, breathing deep to calm my stupid fucking diaphragm. Tears, I can hide. But I can't do anything about these stupid sobs.

There's a long moment of silence. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

The room closes in around me. It's so blue outsi

de, so bright and dark at the same time. There are no stars in the sky here. That shouldn't be possible. It isn't right that the only damn lights in the sky are fluorescent.

I can't even see the damn moon.

"We were talking," he says.

There's no fight in his voice. He's losing patience and I can't blame him.

The quiet surrounds me. There's nothing outside--no horns, no pedestrians, no wind. This room is empty. This apartment is empty. The whole damn world is empty.

Or maybe it's me. I've been empty ever since I started recovery, and this relationship isn't going to be the thing to fill me.