cw: domestic abuse

based off this piece.

Neither can brave the house, but they can’t break the silence either as they sit together on the front porch. Their house is no longer theirs, no longer a place he even recognizes, yet he knows he’s supposed to be gathering his things from inside. While the mission is clear, it’s daunting, the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders, making it even harder to stand — harder to speak.

Casey takes a long drag from his cigarette, stalling.

Sarah stares out into the street with tears in her eyes, and while he’d usually reach out to brush them away, she’s off limits. An invisible barrier, composed purely of grief and spite, both separates them and simultaneously unites them. He can't stay away from her, or ignore her when she calls on him, despite everything that happened.

“I didn't think you were gonna come.” Sarah finally breaks the silence.

“I didn't want to,” he admits.

“So why did you?”

Casey shakes his head. The hope of normalcy was too much for him to ignore, but normalcy has become another phantom limb; gone, yet he can still feel it there. Gone, yet still clings to it in spite of its absence. “I wanted my stuff,” he teases. It's too much to explain and he already feels silly enough.

“Wow. I’m sure tabloids would have a field day if they saw this, huh?” Sarah tries to joke, pulling her knees closer to her chest, wiping her face.

Casey rolls his eyes. “Ch’yeah… not like they aren’t probably already…”

“Yeah…” Sarah bites her lip. “Sorry.”

Casey shakes his head. “I deserve it.”

She doesn’t say anything. They go back to staring into the street, watching cars pass. Casey tosses his cigarette and finally prepares to stand up so he can start packing, but Sarah’s voice calls him back. “I hate you…”

His eyebrows furrow. It feels like something’s caught in his throat.

“I think you’re such an a**hole for what you did, but… I wish you’d stay…” She scoffs at herself. “I know it’s weird right now — I mean, you have Christian anyway, but I don’t want you to leave.”

Casey stares at her, his lips pursed together. He doesn’t have the heart or ego to tell her he and Christian broke up too. He doesn’t think she’ll care anyway, and in fact, she might find satisfaction in it. “We both know I can’t stay.”

“Because of him,” Sarah assumes.

“Because I can’t, Sarah.”

They both stand at the same time.

“Sorry. You probably think I’m a total idiot, huh?” Sarah whispers, folding her arms over her stomach.

He shakes his head slowly, running his fingers through his hair, a heavy sigh through his nose. “I don’t think that at all…”

“Well, I think I am… you obviously don’t love me, you proved that, but I wish you still did.” Sarah takes a few steps closer, leaning her head on Casey’s shoulder, causing him to freeze. There’s a small part of him that suspects she’ll punch him in the gut next, but she doesn’t. Neither of them move.

Time stands still. His whole body is about to double over in pain.

“I wish we could just pretend for a bit that none of this was going on,” Sarah mutters into his shoulder.

How many times has he said those exact words, but not to her? How many times had he leaned against Christian and asked him not to talk about it?

( — Hold me and forget the black eye.

That’s not a part of my life that exists right now. )

And yet, when faced with the same request, he can’t do it. The thought of pretending — the thought of hanging on, of desperately grasping at such frail strings, has him sick to his stomach.

Casey takes a step back, shaking his head. “I need to go.”

“Wait —.”

“No, I really need to go.” Casey holds a hand out as he makes his way down the steps, though he softens when their eyes meet. As messed up and sick as he is, he can’t even imagine what it’s like to be her.

While he softens, Sarah’s face turns to stone. She shakes her head, looking away from him. The tears from earlier return, making tracks down her cheeks once again. “Go ahead then.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s talk some other time, okay?”

“Whatever, just get out of here, Casey.” Sarah starts back up the steps. “Eventually, you’re gonna have to come get your crap before I throw it out.”

“I know.” Casey finally turns his back on her and starts toward the car. The front door slams just behind him, loud enough to make his ears ring.

Sarah would never believe it, and he doesn’t have the heart to say it, but he wishes he could forget about it all too. Every single part of it.