Blain's phone starts ringing, but I try to ignore it in favor of sleep. I like sleep; maybe not as much as he does. I am, however, warm and comfortable wrapped around my boyfriend.

For some reason, he lets it continue to ring instead of picking it up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s ignoring it. Or maybe he’s just really tired. I know he’s been running himself ragged with worry. I wish I could help somehow. He’s just too headstrong.

They’ve taken him off the case, but I’m not sure that’s stopped him. If I know my boyfriend (and I would like to think I do), he still at least wracking his brain and getting little tips from the detectives working the case. Sanders definitely wouldn’t keep it from him.

A few seconds later, Blain shifts to sit up. I see him rub his eyes once and furrow his eyebrows as he searches the nightstand for his glasses. His shoulders physically slump when he sees the name on his phone.

I can tell he’s trying to stay quiet when he says his name, but in the still of the room he may as well be shouting. It’s so quiet that I can hear the other person say they need him. The way he says, “I figured,” speaks volumes on how exhausted he is.

The person starts to talk to him again, but Blain cuts him off, “I’ll see it when I get there,” as he rises from the bed.

When he walks inside the closet, I zone out. It’s the middle of the night and I just want to get a few more hours of sleep before my body naturally wakes me up. I’m awoken again by lips pressed to my temple.

My eye blink open against my will and I hear myself say, “Again?”

He whispers a quick, “I’ll be back soon, babe,” and slowly kisses my lips this time. After a few seconds of lingering, his forehead falls to mine, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

At this point, I don’t know who he’s trying to convince.  I just snuggle back into the blankets and as an afterthought, I croak out an, “I love you.”

He connects our lips again for only a second and whispers into my mouth, “Me too.”

Slipping back into sleep is almost easy at that point. Believing Blain is a little harder. But eventually, in the warmth of my cocoon and the thought of my boyfriend loving me, I drift off into a dreamless slumber.

I’m not sure if it’s a few minutes or a few hours, but I’m woken again by my name being shouted from somewhere in the house. It’s obviously not in the same room as I’m in, but it’s somewhere relatively close. The hallway; maybe the living room? Either way, my name is still being called and I realize I’m going to have to get up. I also realize that it’s Blain doing the calling.

Why is Blain calling me from across the house and not just coming in here?

Sitting up, I run my hands through my hair before wiping my eyes. I hear footsteps stop in the doorway to our room before I hear his voice, “You need to get up.”

Blinking a few times at the light behind him and my voice cracks as I speak, “What’s wrong, babe?”

I can’t see his face because the light is behind him, but I see his head shake, “Can you please stand up, Henry?”

The way his voice sounds wrecked, makes me comply without another word. As I move over to stand in front of him, I casually stretch my shoulders forward to relieve the stiffness in my back. Before I even know what happening, Blain’s hand is pulling me toward him by the back of my neck. His lips are at my ear and his voice is on the brink of panic when he whispers, “There’s a programmed GPS in your glove box. Follow it. Don’t call. Don’t text. And make this believable.”

He pushes me away after that, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Why is he whispering? Why’s he acting so strange? What do I need a GPS for?

And then he’s saying, “Now,” and I’m really confused.

It has to be written all over my face, “What?”

He seems to straighten his shoulders, but his voice is still wavering, “You need to go. I can’t do this anymore.”

What? Why is he saying this? Everything was fine when we went to sleep.

A lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow to speak around it, “You want me to leave?”

He doesn’t skip a beat, “Right now, preferably.”

My heart start beating faster, “I don’t understand.”

That’s only sort of true. I understand what he’s say. What I don’t understand is why he’s saying it.

He seems to shrug as he leans against the doorframe, “You need to get dressed and start packing your stuff. Get out of my home,” he takes a deep breath. “Get out of my life. This isn’t working. We don’t work. We’re two different people and we’re just kidding ourselves to drag it out,” I can hear the words he’s saying, but his eyes don’t match his words.

I won’t believe this; I can’t. Something’s not right, “You said you loved me.”

The light behind him and my lack of glasses still hinder me from seeing his face, but his shoulders fall forward a little, “People say a lot of things, Henry.”

“No,” it’s a whisper, I’m not even sure he hears it. He doesn’t make any move to acknowledge it either way. So I raise my voice only slightly, “I don’t believe you.” Taking a step forward, I put my hands around his middle, “You don’t mean this.”

He removes my hands as quick as I put them there, “Just go.”

When I breathe out, “Why?” I know he hears me this time.

He shakes his head, “Too many potato chips.”

That’s when I finally get it. That when it starts to sink in. He’s doing this. He’s actually doing this and it’s because he thinks it’s protecting me. He think by making me leave it’ll save me. Or maybe he’s trying so save everyone. It’s just like him to want to save everyone.

My mouth opens and I’m begging, “No, no, no. You don’t have to do this.” Tears are streaming down my face without my permission, “No, we’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” I can feel myself moving toward him and with each step, he’s moving away. I’m still pleading, “You don’t have to do this. No, please,” I just need him to listen. I can’t leave him. This isn’t supposed to happen. We stop when his back hits the door opposite of our room, but I’m still going, “I love you. Please, don’t do this.”

I put my hands on the door behind either of his ears and my body presses against him. I’m not sure if I’m holding him here or if I’m holding myself up.

His hand wraps around my wrist as he stares into my eyes. Being this close, I can see his eyes shine as his voice wobbles, “I’m sorry.”

My eyebrows bunch together and I’m about to ask what he means. Except a pain shoots through my arm and my body is falling to try to relieve the string. I don’t even notice I’m shouting until my knees hit the floor and it’s all gone. Including Blain, instead he’s standing in the middle of the room with his back toward me.

He doesn’t even turn as he says, “Pack your stuff, Henry.”

Maybe if there wasn’t shock resonating through my body, I could answer him. Maybe if I understood why all this was happening, I could stop him. But there is and I don’t. So, I stand up and walk into our room slamming the door behind me.

In the last couple weeks, I slowly moved most of my stuff into this room. All the stuff that I use every day came over here. It was more convenient that way and I didn’t have to disturb Maya in the morning when I had to go to work.

I don’t put much thought into packing. I grab some clothes to lounge around in. I grab some jeans and t-shirts. I also pack a few suits incase this lasts all weekend and I need to get dressed for work. The other stuff I can come back for if it comes to that.

What I’m really worried about is where I’m going to go. I make enough money with the promotion to get my own place. I could get a little one bedroom far enough from here that I won’t run into him, but still be close to work. My car is good so I won’t have to worry about that. Utilities won’t be too much for one person. I can make it on my own.

I’ve made it on my own my whole life. I made it on my own when my mom worked too many jobs then went to stay with whatever boyfriend she had at the time. I made it on my own when I got scholarships to get my journalism degree. It was me that chose to work even harder to get a double major in music so I could work for ‘Tune’. I made my way to New York to do all of it. I left California to get away from everyone. I did it all. And I could do it again.

I’ll be just fine.

As soon as it’s all in packed, I’m walking out with my keys and bags in hand. Stopping in by the door, I take a second to remove the keys to the apartment and studio from my ring. Looking up, I see Blain sitting at the kitchen island staring at me. I keep the eye contact as I toss the keys onto the counter.

And then he’s on his feet bee-lining towards me. I have this moment of doubt where I think that maybe he’ll forget about all this whole thing and ask me to stay. But when his lips are at my ear, everything is set in concrete.

“Don’t forget the GPS,” His words are clear, but his voice is heavy. “The key is under the mat. Don’t contact me. Keep your normal routine. I’m so sorry.”

I want to cave. I want to melt into him. I want him to take it all back.

In my momentary weakness, I decide to try again. But only get out half of the ‘I love you’ before he’s covering my mouth to stop me.

That’s when I reach my limit. I’ve never believed the magazines. I never wanted to. Instead, I just thought that he could be different for me. I thought that I would be his exception. Apparently he doesn’t have those.

Anger gets the best of me and I shove him away, “Don’t worry, Sam, you won’t hear from me.” Turning without thought, I walk out the door and don’t look back.

I won’t look back. I can’t.

Keeping my feet moving forward, that’s my goal right now. I need to keep going. I need to get out of here before I completely break down. I can do this.

I don’t notice anything between the apartment and the garage. I just get to my car and throw my stuff in the back seat. If the suits wrinkle because I don’t lay them down, then my boss will have to deal with it.

Even if there are tears running down my face, I won’t give in. Not yet. I need to get somewhere first. I can’t just sit here in this parking spot.

Should I get a hotel?

Sighing, I run a hand down my face before reaching over to the glove box. I hate myself for listening to him. None of it actually makes sense. Why is he breaking up with me, but giving me somewhere to go? That doesn’t make any sense at all.

Against my own better judgment, I turn on the GPS. Just like he said, it’s already preprogramed to an address. It’ll take me forty-five minutes to get there. I can think about everything on the way. I just need to think everything through. Maybe I missed something.

Wiping my face, I take a deep breath and shake myself out. I will make it through this. I’m going to get to where ever this is taking me and I’ll figure it out from there.

Everything will be alright. 

~A/N~

This (if you can't tell) is Henry's POV from AEAI. This covers chapter 22 that was done in As Evil As Ignorance. 

If you have NO IDEA what I'm talkign about, you missed the book that this belongs to. Go check it out!