Better Than Burroughs

One Month Later

Marina

“Hey,” Callum says, closing the front door behind him. I turn around on the couch to smile up at him and the first thing I notice is the huge tear across the front of his shirt. He must notice my looking at it because he says, “Corner of a shelf got me. Weren’t you doin’ something’ with Emma tonight?”

“Yeah I was, she canceled. Her mom showed up out of nowhere and Emma’s playing hostess.” I’m not too upset over the cancellation or over not being invited over. I’d much rather just hang out here and talk about nothing with Callum. It’s amazing how much of a homebody I’ve turned into. Being with Felix, I always wanted to be going somewhere and doing something. It was so easy to get bored. Even when I was at home with my parents, I always had to be somewhere else. But here, I would be happy never to leave this place again. I’m perfect here and I don’t know how that happened or why. I think it may be the company and not necessarily the location. I feel things for Callum that I’ve never experienced before.

“How’d work go?” I ask and he grunts in response. Some days he seems to enjoy work so much and others, it’s like it’s a chore. But I know he loves the book store, it’s just the people he doesn’t tolerate very well.

When he sits down beside me I pat his shoulder reassuringly and he smiles a little. Leaning against his side, we watch Gilmore Girls in silence and he never complains. He actually laughs a few times. I think he’s a Luke and Lorelei fan and he just may have a crush on Paris. There’s a knock on the door almost exactly as the show ends. Callum makes a move to stand up but I hold him back with my arm and get up, “You didn’t lock the store up?”

“I did.”

Not wanting to just open the door to whoever is out there, I call out, “Who is it?” I feel like an idiot asking that. It just seems too odd doing it.

“It’s me.” Felix’s voice is muffled through the wood and I just about freeze. I turn around to see Callum standing behind me. I don’t know how he moved that fast. With my hand on the knob, I don’t know if Callum wants me opening the door or not. They haven’t exactly been close lately and honestly, I don’t know if I want to open the door for my own reasons. I haven’t seen Felix since I left him. Not once. I’m actually surprised over that. I had assumed that he would have tried to make contact earlier than this. Callum nods and I slowly open the door. At the first sight of Felix, I feel Callum closer at my back and it’s reassuring. I love the heat his body shares.

“Can I come in?” It’s Felix to break the silence and dumbly I step to the side. Callum follows after a beat and I don’t know what to do. Felix looks exactly the same. I don’t know, maybe I expected him to look terrible. Bags under his eyes and holes in his clothes. Looking at Callum, I realize that he actually has the bags and holes. It’s unfair that Felix is the one to look so…well I guess, well-adjusted.

“Marina, you look…amazing,” Felix says upon turning around to face us. The way he says my name is almost a sigh and I’m immediately on edge. What does he want? That’s all I care about. I don’t feel anything else while looking at him. I don’t feel a pang of longing. I haven’t missed him.

“How did you get up here?” I ask.

Before Felix can answer, Callum steps forward, “He has a key to the store.”

“Hey man, how’ve you been?” Felix asks.

“Decent. And how are you Felix?” Callum asks and I can see the tenseness in his body.

“I miss Marina,” he says, looking at me straight in the eye. Callum makes a sound in the back of his throat and I don’t know if it’s a cough or a choke. Maybe a scoff. Either way, I feel like making an odd sound myself. How dare he come over here and tell me he misses me? What the hell does he think he’s doing? I cross my arms against my chest, hoping that Felix will pick up on my mood without my having to be mean to him. Even though he’s a jerk, I still don’t want to be one as well. Besides, I have always avoided confrontation if I could help it. Not with all people, but with the ones that don’t know me well enough. I’m more open with people who I know won’t hold it against me. I can do it with Emma and I’m starting to think that I can be that way with Callum.

“What are you talking about?” is all I say and I notice Callum leave my side. I follow him with my eyes as he walks around the couch and slowly sits down, his posture straight and his back to us. It hurts. I feel like he doesn’t care about this at all. I want him back at my side for support and he doesn’t even care enough to be facing me. I can’t even see his face. I rely on his face, he knows that. I assume he knows that. He has such strength in one look and I could really use that right about now. What a bastard.

“I miss you, I really do. I made a huge mistake and I’m so sorry. But I know now what I lost and I want to get it back. You back, I want you back.”

All I can do is stare at him, his eyes and wonder what I ever saw in them, if anything. When I don’t say anything, he goes on, his hands flailing about, “I love you Marina. I know I fucked up and all I’m asking is for you to hear me out. Talk to me.”

I actually am interested to hear what his argument is. Now that I’m over him, I’d like to know what it was he thought he was doing. Understand it a bit. There’s no way that he loves me. I know he doesn’t. He never knew who I was and he never will. Looking over Felix’s shoulder, Callum hasn’t moved and that one thing has me nodding my head.

I don’t say bye to Callum cause honestly, I’m a tad upset with him. I’m hurt. It may be irrational, but there it is. I don’t bother to put shoes on and just go out in my slippers. At least I hadn’t gotten dressed for bed yet, not that I wouldn’t have gone out in my PJ’s. Felix and I don’t say anything on the way to his car and nothing but general gibberish is said on the way to the café.

We’ve been sitting for a good seven minutes when Felix leans across the table and reaches for my hand. Without thinking, I slide my hands off the table and on to my lap. The look on his face is heartbroken and I feel bad. Not bad enough to let him hold my hand or apologize, but still bad.

“I really have missed you, I want you to come home,” he says, folding his hands in front of himself on the table. The waitress comes by and sets my order of hot chocolate down in front of me and I’m glad for the distraction. I don’t know what to say to him. I wish Callum had gotten jealous and irrational and insisted I stay. I choose not to comment on Felix referring to his apartment as our ‘home’.

“I’m not going to move back in with you Felix. I’m happy where I am,” I say slowly, looking down at the whip cream and wondering if it would be rude to stick my finger in it. I do it anyway.

“Living with Cal? Come on. The only reason why you’re there is cause I asked him to look after you.”

I don’t look up because I don’t want whatever is showing on my face to be seen by Felix. Callum never said anything about Felix asking him to look after me. Why do I need looking after? It’s really no matter. I don’t care why I’m there. Callum wouldn’t have done what he did unless he wanted to. I have to believe that. He’s just not the type to do something unless it was what he wanted.

“I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time with the part about your being concerned with my well being,” I say, looking up and fixing Felix with a hard stare.

“Why? You know I care about you,” he insists.

“Yes…so much that you cheated on me.”

“I said I was sorry, what else do you want?”

“I don’t want anything else. My wanting something only implies that I want something with you and I don’t Felix,” I say as bluntly as I can. My feet are hot in my slippers and I want to take them off but don’t. The hot chocolate is probably not helping, but it’s good and I don’t care. I take a small sip and wait for Felix to say something.

“Are you and Callum having sex? Is that what this is about?” he accuses, pointing a finger at me. His finger offends me and I slap it away.

“I don’t need an extra incentive to turn you down Felix.” What an asshole. As if that would be the only reason why I’m not forgiving him and running back.

“That’s all he wants from you, you know. He just wants to fuck you.”

I’ve never been so offended upon hearing that word. I’m actually shocked that I find the f-word abrasive right now. Callum uses it constantly, it’s one of his regulars, and it just ends up fading into the sentence. I notice it when he’s upset of course, but even still, it’s just…different. Charming somehow. But everything about Callum is accidentally charming. Felix uses it in order to attack me. I don’t like it at all.

“It’s really none of your concern.”

“Getting to you first wasn’t worth it,” he mutters.

Callum

There’s no more bloody rum. I thought I had more around here. I even looked under the fucking couch. I’m all tapped out. Should I buy some more? I’m not even knackered yet. I can still feel. I can feel her leaving with that fucking piece of shite and I can feel her smiling at him as he explains away his fuck-all behavior. I hate her. I fucking hate them both. Rot in hell. I can’t do this. She needs to get out. She’ll move back in with her knight in ill-fitting armor and I’ll be right as rain.

I roll off the couch and onto the floor, I keep rolling until I hit my records and I change them. I Let Love In starts up and I want to cry but I can’t turn it off because I fucking know this song. Not that I love the twit, I don’t. Fuck her. I want her.

They’ve been gone for half a sodding hour and I think I’m going to throw up. I want to kill something. I want to fucking punch a hole in the goddamn floor. I want to dig out of here. I want to go home, back to being a kidlet with parents.

Shuffling to my feet, I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I can’t fucking believe what I can see. I break the mirror because I can’t see it right now. I’ll want to slit my damn wrists. Glass is everywhere, even in my knuckles and I don’t remove the pieces. They’re not going anywhere. The pain is slight and I push on one of the pieces to heighten it. For three blissful seconds I don’t think of Marin. Opening my hands, I stare at my palms and all I want to do is get back to those three seconds. Pain is a cure for pain. I just need the physical. Get rid of these god damn emotions. I should have stuck to what I knew. I knew fucking around. I did not know living with a girl.

It doesn’t take me very long to pull all the little shards of glass out of my knuckles and when I’m finished, I slide down onto the bathroom floor with the biggest piece of glass I could find from the mirror. I don’t think about what I’m doing, I just start dragging the glass across my palm, over and over again. Until I can’t think about anything but the glass. This is what heaven must be like. And before, that’s hell. I’m fucking fucked when I die. I switch hands and it’s hard to hold the glass with the blood but I make due. It’s sloppier but I don’t give two shits about it. I hate my hands. They’ve brought me fuck all.

I’m fucking dagenham. Dragging the glass across the top of my hand for good measure, I toss it aside and it shatters against the side of the bathtub. This won’t kill me, but no one would be able to tell judging by the amount of blood. Maybe I’m a bleeder. Staring at my hands, I’ve never really understood what my mum did before now. I’ve been a bloody bastard. She needed him and I’ve been so selfish as to feel sorry for myself. She did the right thing for herself. She was strong. I’m a disappointment. She thought I would be alright, that I was strong enough to live. How fucking disappointed she must be.

Swallowing, I want water but I don’t get up. I don’t really care for cleaning up after myself and tracking blood everywhere is a bleedin’ nightmare. I feel tired, drained, and I want to go to sleep. I don’t. There’s this tiny fear that I won’t wake up. Would that really be so bad though? Of course, living is just too tempting. I want Marin to…hell I don’t know. In an ideal world, I don’t want to think about the ideal world.

I force myself to stand up and I lean over the sink, pushing the pieces of glass aside so I can rest my elbows and hang my hands over the bowl. I use an elbow to turn the tap on and waiting until it gets warm, I hold my hands under the water. This almost fucking hurts more than the actual slicing. Actually, it hurts a whole hell of a lot worse than the slicing. The alcohol helps a little and I wish I had something to splash on the cuts. The water runs red and it’s a beautiful color. I’d like a shirt in the color. Fuck, make it a jacket. Maybe some pants. Looking down, there’s blood on the floor where I was sitting and I don’t want to wipe it up but Marin would have a fucking heart attack if she found it. I have half a mind to go to bed and leave it. A part of me wants her to fucking worry. Regret her choice. But the other side wins and I’ll clean it up. I leave my hands under the water until they look sparkling fresh, or as sparkling fresh as they can under the circumstances. The cuts are rough and I hadn’t realized I was being that careless with the glass. I turn the water off with my elbow again and stare at my hands. I alternate between staring at my hands and staring at the mess on the floor. Is it life imitating art or art imitating life? No matter, I’m calmer now.

Marina

The air is biting and I really should have taken my coat. I just wasn’t thinking. I probably wasn’t thinking when I had agreed to hear Felix out. It was for the best. I now have no doubt in my mind that he’s just not for me any longer. There’s always been this little nagging voice in the back of my head saying that maybe it was just bad timing for Felix and I. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But no. It wasn’t bad timing. It was just bad.

I shove my hands in my pockets and keep my pace slow. I’m in no hurry to get home. Callum really upset me by not caring earlier. I expected him to be more protective, to order me not to go. Sure, I would have ignored him, but it would have made me smile to know that he cared. He just sat there. It’s almost ten and I’m not really tired. The streets are still busy, something I’m glad for. I don’t like wandering around empty streets. I had the option of Felix taking me home, that wasn’t going to happen. Why prolong our torture? I’m sure it wasn’t fun for him either. He’s never been too keen on rejection. I would have called a cab expect for the lack of actual cash. I really need to start carrying real money with me and not just an ATM card. I didn’t bring my purse though so that wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

It starts lightly sprinkling and it’s just my luck.

Talking with Felix really tired me out emotionally. It was awkward and I was relieved that he chose a café only five minutes away. He ended up trying to apologize again. He even said that the girl he left me for…left him. That made me insanely happy. Karma bit him in the ass. About damn time.

I think I have Callum to thank for my not buying Felix’s bullshit. The whole time I was listening to Felix talk, all I could think about was Callum’s facial expressions in response. It had me smiling out of place and thinking back, Felix probably thought I was giving in at certain moments. After I finished my hot beverage, I thanked him but told him that I just wasn’t interested. I thought about being cruel, I really thought about it, but it just wasn’t worth it. I found that I just didn’t care enough to be mean to him. I tried to let him down gently.

I have no idea what that comment about getting to me first is supposed to mean. Getting to me first. Before Callum? Felix was mad and I left. He did want to drive me home though, I have to give him credit for that, but I was suspicious of his motives and said no. Even with the rain doing its magic on my hair, I don’t regret it. Even though my slippers weren’t meant for moisture, I don’t care.

In a few minutes, I’m stepping into the book store, locking the door behind me. Even though Callum acted the way he did, all I want to do is rejoice with him over my triumph. I can positively say that I have no residual feelings for Felix. I feel like celebrating. I also want to thank him because I know that he helped. He was a constant source of amusement whenever I was feeling low. He always took my mind off things but still gave me room to ponder if I wanted to. He’s amazing and I have no idea how he ended up that way. With his past, or at least what I know of it, he could have turned out a lot worse. I still want to know what happened to him and whether or not he had family to turn to after his mom killed herself. The idea of him all alone is sickening.

The second I walk in the flat I announce my arrival and head straight for the bathroom in search of a towel to dry my hair. Callum’s not downstairs but I assume he’s home because all of the lights are on and Nick Cave is drifting through the air. It’s insistent and more painful and I wonder if Callum’s upset. You can always tell how he’s feeling judged by the music playing and the book in his hands. Nick Cave is a constant, but not this record. This Nick Cave is rough and desperate. I never know which I prefer. Having listened to all of his work, I switch back and forth between my favorite records. I’m the same with Morrissey but not as bad. I generally view everything as Morrissey, Smiths and solo, it’s all Morrissey to me. The second I think I prefer Smiths, I pop in Bona Brag and I change my mind, next I pop in Queen is Dead and change my mind again. No point in that sort of brain trauma.

I push the bathroom door open and freeze. The usually clean tile has a color on it that should never be present. Taking a few hesitant steps forward, I stare at the blood for what seems like decades. My chest begins to heave with the deep breaths I’m taking and I realize that I’m starting to hyperventilate.

“Callum?” I call out quietly, almost to myself. Frantically, I scan the rest of the room and find broken glass all over the sink and floor beneath. Blood is on the counter top. He didn’t answer. Oh god. Something’s happened to him. Could he have gotten in another fight? That doesn’t explain the glass or the amount of blood. It’s not an excessive amount, but enough to freak me the fuck out.

Without thinking, I run to the stairs and take the steps two at a time. I almost fall over when I see him sitting down against the wall directly across from the staircase. He’s just looking at me, his arms resting on his bent knees. For a minute no one speaks and I catch my breath. He’s alive and okay. I think he’s okay. I scan his body for any signs of trauma and his hands are like two giant speed bumps that I can’t get past. There’s white gauze wrapped thickly around each one and still the red has soaked through. They’re suspended in mid air and I look up at his face. I can’t read his expression. He’s guarded, cut off from me and it scares me.

“What happened?”

“I got cut, accidentally-on-purpose,” he answers, his voice surprisingly clear and oddly calm. He got cut? How the hell does someone just get cut that badly? Especially on the top of the hand. A few beats after he answers, he holds his hands up as a display and I see the palms. The gauze is barely noticeable because the blood soaked through so badly. He has blood on his pants and I want to cry. I feel my chest tighten and it hurts too much. I don’t understand this. Him.

“What happened?” The second I ask it I flinch because I realize that I just asked that question. He didn’t really give the right answer though and I look at him unflinchingly. I know that I’m hiding nothing, he can see how worried I am and he’s not doing anything to help.

“How was the date?” he asks, slowly standing up without using his hands. Briefly I forget and focus on how he stands, just slides his body back up the wall as if in reverse. It looks so effortless and I’m impressed. But his tone of voice brings me back and he’s angry with me. I can feel it in the room like a giant elephant standing between us.

“It wasn’t a date,” I reject with a shake of my head. Why would he think that? Felix just asked to talk, not for a date.

“Did he pay?”

I nod my head and Callum adds, “Then it was a fucking date.” I step back at his voice and I don’t think I’ve ever been near him while he was this angry. He’s not yelling. I can deal with yelling. Callum’s voice is so calm and low, I wish he was yelling. I wish I wasn’t on edge. It was just a hot chocolate.

He doesn’t walk towards me, he stays leaning against the wall and begins staring at his hands, his eyes wide.

The truth is floating about in my head and I know how he got cut. I know and I don’t want to even think it. I don’t want it to be true. Is he drunk? I’m about to ask just that when he says, quietly and without anger, “It hurt more than it did then.” He means when he was younger, when he gave himself tattoos for a way to deal with his pain. He didn’t say that, I assumed. It had to be more than just boredom. He says that and I can’t stop the image from rushing into my head. The image of him cutting his hands. Hurting himself and not stopping when the blood came. I want to smack him for doing something so god damn stupid. He could have…was he trying to kill himself? Was that what he was doing? The wrist is pretty damn close to where the gauze is wrapped and I feel like throwing up. My stomach rolls and I get dizzy. I hold my hand out and brace myself up against the wall and wait it out. When it’s through with, I look up at Callum to see that he’s watching me. I want to hit him.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” I yell, channeling all of my anger, not being able to stop thinking about him down in that bathroom. And he just fucking left the blood there for me to find. Did he do this on purpose? To piss me off? What a selfish bastard. I hate him. I hate him so much. How dare he do something like this? He’s not allowed to do that!

“You asshole! I hate you! You’re so god damn stupid. What the hell were you doing?!”

“I was slicing my bloody palms open, that’s what I was fucking doin'! What the flying fuck were you doing?!” he yells, splaying his hands out and wincing, immediately dropping them. I ignore his question. I don’t think I even register it.

“Why would you do that? You can’t do that Callum!” I feel myself cracking and I can’t do anything to stop it. The red is refusing to be ignored and the pain on his face is shining brighter than the blood. He’s not just angry. He’s more. He’s got more problems than I thought and I wish he would talk to me. Really talk to me.

“I can do whatever the bloody fuck I want.”

“No, you can’t.” I almost say that he has to think of me but I start to cry. I start crying and it feels so good. I hang my head because I can’t look at him and see his disinterest or worse, his annoyance. All I can hear is pain and I find it fitting that my clothes are wet. What would tears matter? I was wet when I first came to Callum, crying over finding Felix waiting for someone else. Callum didn’t hold me and he’s not going to now. I didn’t really want that from him the first time, it wasn’t on my mind. Right now, I don’t know. I don’t think I’d be able to push him away. He could have done something that couldn’t be fixed and I’m surprised that all I want is reassurance that he’s alright, even though he’s not alright emotionally. I have to sniffle to keep my nose from running and I don’t think I can hold it off much longer. I don’t seem to be any closer to quitting. I want to rub my face, it tickles, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to jostle anything.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d…I didn’t think,” his voice is close and I didn’t hear him move. His feet come into view in front of me and I stiffen. He’s barefoot and it’s painfully innocent.

“Is it my fault?” I ask and wonder if he could understand me through the crying.

“You were the original factor, but it was about me. It’s not you fault.” I wasn’t prepared for his honesty and I cry harder. It’s my fault. He did it because of me, because I went with Felix. I don’t ask why because oddly enough, I don’t need to. I’ve known for a month that he was attracted to me. He blatantly told me and I ignored it. We ignored it and it wasn’t mentioned in detail again. He was more honest about things afterwards; he would tell me things that I was never ready to hear. But he never acted on it and it was always with a smile on his face. I never thought for a second that he would do anything like this out of frustration. It just smears in my face the scary fact that I have barely scratched his surface.


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AN: So here’s this one. I spent some extra time on it. It’s shorter than my other chapters, but if I had kept going, the next break opportunity would have made this chapter the length of two of my regular ones. I’m interested to see how this is received because I hope what was in my head, emotion wise, was translated decently. But there will be some more clarification in the next part, it was hard for me to cut this down but I had to.

Callum is around 24. I don’t remember if that was ever brought up. It probably will be in the future, but in case anyone else wants to know, there you go.

And I am so so very happy that everyone seems to be embracing these characters. I have a soft spot for flaws. For me, the flaws are what make people attractive. Perfection is in the flaws.

I plan on getting more chapters up soon. I just posted this one and the one previous. That's a lot of reading.