I don't expect to hear from Elliot. Not now. His message comes just after 9PM, when I'm halfway through cleaning my brushes, the scent of turpentine clinging to my fingers and the windows cracked to let in the crisp spring air.
Meet me in 15 mins
Minimarket near the park
We need to talk
You owe me that much
No hello. No softness. Just that sharp words that's totally opposite of the sweet words he said when first he met me.
My chest tightens. I stare at the screen for a full minute. Part of me wants to ignore it. Delete it. Pretend I didn't see it. But another part—the curious, restless, broken part—wants to come. To see where it goes.
I grab my coat and slip out of the apartment before Julia can ask where I'm going. I don't want to lie. And I definitely don't want to explain. Julia would be against it. But I've decided that I'll go.
***
The minimarket's neon glow cuts through the dark like a cheap nightlight, buzzing faintly in the stillness. The bench outside reminds me of one me and Elliot always shared when we were still together.
Elliot is already there, back against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded. He looks calm. Too calm. But I know him. Still waters, sharp teeth. Tch. When I approach, he lifts his head, and I see it in his eyes—something twisted between longing and spite.
"You came," he says.
"I'm surprised you asked."
"I wasn't sure you'd show up," he admits, "but I figured curiosity would win."
I scoff. "More like caution."
He gestures to the bench, and I sit, careful to still keep some distance. The last time we were this close, I was screaming at him to stop gaslighting me. That memory still burns in my bones. Suddenly, I regret my decision to come here.
Elliot offers me a canned coffee without looking at me. Same brand. Same flavor. Maybe his hands took the drink with its muscle memory.
But I don't take it. "I don't want to pretend we're okay," I say, voice low.
"Then don't," he says, leaning back like he's comfortable in this. "But you still came."
I exhale slowly. "You're the one who wanted this. So say what you need to say."
His smile changed. It used to be a genuine, loving smile. But now I'm sure as hell it's more like a smirk. "You ran away. And left me with the silence you swore you'd never give me. You left me in that city."
"You manipulated me," I snap, "you twisted my words. Made me feel like nothing was ever enough."
His jaw clenches, fingers wrapped around the canned coffee too tightly. "I loved you."
"No," I say, standing my ground, "you wanted to own me. There's a difference. And that wasn't love."
Elliot laughs, low and bitter. "Maybe. But I still think about you every damn day. About how shitty you made me feel when you left just like that."
"Or maybe, think about why I left."
"Was it a valid reason to left someone without a word?"
My throat tightens, but I don't let it show. "If you hate me that much then why the hell did you ask to see me?"
"Because I needed to see if you're still mine somewhere in there."
I stare at him, stunned. "I was never yours."
He shrugs like it doesn't matter, but his voice drops an octave. "And yet here you are. Still letting me haunt you."
I look away, heart racing.
"You've changed," he says. "You hide it well, but I can see it. Something in your eyes is colder now. Sharper."
"You don't get to analyze me anymore."
"No, but it doesn't stop me from knowing you."
Silence drapes over us, tense and brimming with things neither of us wants to admit. I stare out at the empty street, unsure what I expected from this meeting. Closure? An apology? A final nail in the coffin? I really have no idea.
Being alone with Elliot just like old times makes my head dizzy. The memories flooding in. Every kind of memory. Good, bad, nostalgic, traumatic ....
Elliot's voice cuts through the quiet. "You really close with that blond from musical theatre major?"
I blink. "Why do you care?"
He smiles, dark and tired. "Because I want to know if they've replaced me … or if I still live in your head rent-free."
My jaw tightens. "You're impossible."
"And you're still running," he murmurs, "still pretending you've healed. Even though you're in a new city now, you can't erase the past, your past, and our past."
That cuts deeper than I expect. I swallow hard. "I didn't come here for a fight," I say.
He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming in the glow of the vending machine. "Then why did you come?"
I hesitate.
Maybe I wanted to see if he'd changed. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I'm stronger now. Or maybe, just maybe, I needed to see him break a little too. Like I did. Like I do.
"I don't know," I admit, "but I didn't expect any sweet or gentle words."
Elliot chuckles—mean and wounded. "At least you're honest now. You made me sound so mean."
I look at him. Our eyes locked. His brown eyes look the same as I remember. I know he hates and loves me at the same time. I slowly say, "You were mean." I stand, pulse drumming in my ears. "I'm done here."
"You'll see me again," he says like a promise. "Even if you don't want to."
I glance back at him again. He's already looking past me, like he's playing some long game I don't understand. And despite everything, part of me believes him.
We have history. We have shared memories. But what's the point of all of them if they only hurt me in the end? Even the sweetest memory cut me deeper. Elliot was there when I needed someone.
I know that Elliot made me happy. I admit it.
Even if I don't want to.