I was anxious to the point I couldn't sleep. I kept looking at the alarm clock on my nightstand, watching the minutes tick by but each one felt like an hour. I couldn't fuck up this interview, that much I knew. I needed to focus on getting my life in order, I needed to focus on setting myself straight, whatever it took. I knew that until I would manage that, I couldn't keep someone like Zach in my life. And truth be told, I missed him. I missed that stupid grin of his and the sparkle that crossed his eyes every single time just a moment before he started to laugh. 

He was loud and clumsy but he brought a sense of serenity with him that I didn't know before him. At least, I didn't remember knowing it. Everything was such a goddamn mess and I, once again, found myself right in the middle of it. Nothing made sense and I didn't have the heart to drag him down with me. Maya was right. I should stay away from him. But I couldn't help but wonder what was he doing? How was he doing? Was he okay? Was he in the bar drunk? Did he get into fights? I couldn't even ask Maya if she had seen him in the bar, knowing full well what her reaction would be. 

What I wished for the most at that moment, was that my phone would ring. He hasn't called for over a week now. Despite the clock reading already over 3 a.m., I hoped that call would come. He would say something stupid and laugh and I'd feel better. I could practically imagine the conversation in my head already. But I knew it wasn't coming. And for the first time, since we stopped talking, I felt my heart sink in my chest. He always wanted to know everything and even more than that ━ he always listened. He listened to every word I said, kept his eyes on me. But after he got hurt because of my loud mouth ... I couldn't stand to face him anymore. I couldn't handle it. Again, it was about me. I was selfish but this time, I thought, I was so sure I was doing the right thing. 

***

I didn't remember falling asleep. A groan passed my lips when my phone began buzzing atop the nightstand. I reached for it and turned the obnoxious sound off before I groaned into the pillow. As much as I was a morning person, I still needed more than two hours of sleep. I felt like I got hit by a train. 

Pulling my legs from under the duvet, I set my feet to the ground and just sat there for a couple of minutes. I took a deep breath, my eyes out the vast bedroom window. It was a beautiful day outside but I felt like a wreck. Maybe I should call him before I go. No. No, Via, you can't. You need to let him go, I thought. 

Groaning, I dragged myself into the bathroom, where I washed my face in a failed attempt to wake myself up. Coffee. Coffee would do. Coffee would do the job. 

I entered the kitchen only to find the apartment empty. On the counter laid a small note. 

　　"I was called in for an early shift. Stop by when you're done with the interview. ━ M." 

Who knew working in a bar also meant being called in for more shifts. Maya was hardworking since I could remember. She had a good focus on things, something I lacked. The only time I could truly concentrate was when I painted. There was something about the way a brush or charcoal moved against the smooth, blank surface that shut off my mind. Maya knew that. I remember the first paycheck she got when we moved into this apartment. She spent it on a brand new set of brushes and canvases. 

She set up my room while I was out grocery shopping and she waited for me right by the front door. Her hands clapping together in excitement and I couldn't put two and two together until she led me into my bedroom. She worked hard for that money but she always made sure I had what I needed before she spent the money on herself. She gave me more than I could ever give her. Even though we were adults, she always took care of me. It wasn't fair to her but ... She never complained. And I owed her more than just my life. 

A sigh passed my lips as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Smoke. I needed a smoke. Where the hell did I put them? 

I walked over to the jacket I wore the day before and fished a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket. Holding onto it along with my coffee, I dragged my feet in the direction of the window leading to the fire escape. I unlocked it and pushed it open before I sat on the edge, having my feet dangle a foot before the fire escape started. I placed a cigarette between my lips and lit it up before taking a long drag. I felt the toxic vapor circulate in my lungs before I blew it back out and watched it dissolve before my eyes. I reached for my coffee cup with my other hand and took a couple of sips, then settled the yellow mug back down. 

The second time I reached for it, I wasn't paying enough attention and the mug tipped over, spilling the contents down the fire escape and between the cracks. 

"Hey!" someone yelled as soon as the coffee dripped down. My eyes widened and I rerouted my gaze downwards. I saw a pair of brown eyes stare up at me. 

I gasped. "Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry!" I squealed, noticing my neighbor with an agitated expression and the amber liquid trickling down his hair. 

"Well, that's one way to wake up, I guess," he commented and shook his head. I didn't even know the apartment under ours was taken. He must've been new. "Though, I prefer to drink my coffee than bathe in it." 

My hand flew to cover my mouth and I tried not to let a chuckle seep past my lips, no matter how much it tickled my throat. "I'm so, so sorry!" I said again. "I didn't know someone moved in." 

"So, this is a routine for you, then?" he asked, still looking up at me. His hand reached inside the apartment through the open window and grabbed a paper towel. 

"No, of course not! I'm just... clumsy today, I guess," I replied while he wiped the coffee off his face. 

I heard him chuckle and shake his dark brown hair that was still wet despite his attempts to dry it. "Fair enough. I guess the coffee wasn't hot enough for me to sue you." I could detect the playful tone in his voice. 

I finally liberated the chuckle. "Again, I am so very sorry." 

"Don't worry about it. It's a better welcome than I had in my last place. But I should definitely go wash this off. I'll see you around." 

I smiled. "See you." 

***

I paced up and down in front of the gallery, waiting for the time to be right for me to enter. I was there almost an hour early, too nervous to sit at home any longer. The day didn't have the best start and I didn't want to risk any traffic jams. 

"Don't fuck this up, Via," I mumbled to myself before I saw the door open and a tall brunette woman exit. 

"Via?" she questioned when her emerald hues fell on me. 

I nodded my head, instantly recognizing her smooth voice. "Jane, right?" I asked as I stopped in front of her. 

She smiled at me and extended her hand. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a firm shake like I was taught. Or at least, I thought I was. 

"You're early. But no biggie. We can get started if you'd like," she offered and pulled the glass door open. 

"Thank you," I said with a small voice, not liking the fact that I was caught in the middle of my nervous pacing. She had to see it. 

Jane followed me inside and led me to the backstage of the gallery before we turned right and headed down the hallway. I could notice her glancing at me ever so often but all I did was offer a smile in return and continued looking around. I was taking in the pictures hung on the walls, the different patterns that led the way, the colors. It was beautiful. And I felt like I belonged there. 

"Here are the studios," Jane announced then and pointed at the doors. Opening the first one, she walked inside the room and I followed close behind. An older man was sat behind a large oak desk. He elevated his gaze and fixed his glasses up his nose. "This is Mr. McDonnell," Jane said and the male raised from his seat. He was wearing a white shirt and a gray vest over it with matching pants. He didn't look much like a painter at the first glance, given that I always found myself covered with colors whenever I painted. His white hair was combed neatly to the side and a small, gray mustache covered his upper lip. 

"You must be Olivia," he said in a low but calming voice. 

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. McDonnell," I said with a smile on my face. "Just Via, please." 

"Mr. McDonnell is our realism specialist. He teaches the advanced program here." My eyes widened slightly as I shifted them in the male's direction. 

"What's your specialty, Via?" he asked as he approached us, curiosity painting his features. 

"I ... I dabble," I replied and looked around the room. "Are these your work?" I pointed at the paintings hung around the white walls. 

Mr. McDonnell gave me a broad smile. He looked rather proud of himself as he nodded to confirm my assumption. I walked further inside to observe the artwork closer. I could see the lines of the paintbrush of different sized canvases. 

"These are so beautiful," I breathed, more to myself than to anyone else but they still heard me. 

"I've been painting all my life. It's good to see that young people are still interested in art." 

I looked over my shoulder, a hint of a smile resting on my lips. "It pulled me out of many dark hours." 

While I was paying attention to his works, I could hear them whisper to each other. I didn't care enough to eavesdrop but I somehow sensed it was about me. By the time I turned around to face them, they both closed their mouths. 

"Did you bring your portfolio?" Jane asked me. 

"Oh, of course," I quickly said and scurried over to them, holding out a large folder. The outside was sprayed with paint but inside laid about ten of my paintings and drawings of different sizes and different styles. Jane and Mr. McDonnell walked over to his desk and placed the folder down before they both took a seat and gestured for me to sit on the opposite side of the desk. I fiddled with the sleeves of my blouse as they went through each painting and drawing, commenting only to each other and not loud enough for me to hear. The sound of my pounding heart muffled the things I could've heard otherwise. 

A few minutes passed but soon Jane gave me a warm smile. "From what we see here you have a lot of potential. Drawing is in your blood, Via."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. 

"I think you should hire her, Janey. Can't miss with this one," the old man added, glancing at the brunette by his side. 

Jane nodded her head. "I agree. I think she'd be perfect for the elder's class. Young, patient. I think they would love you. The job is yours if you want it, Via," she said and I gasped. 

"Oh my god, really?" I asked in disbelief, my voice higher than usual. They both looked at each other and laughed. 

"Yes, really. You can start next week on Monday. Mr. McDonnell will supervise the first few classes, just until you get a hang of it on your own. I'll prepare the paperwork until then." 

I almost jumped up to my feet, my hands clasping together. "You don't know how much I appreciate this." 

The brunette raised as well. "Welcome to the team, Via." 

***

I nearly ran to the bar as soon as I was given the hour of my first day of work. My already quick step was only faster the closer I got to the bar. I pushed the door open.

"Maya!" I yelled and heard an instant fumbling and glass shattering as my outburst startled my sister, resulting in her dropping the beer bottle she was about to serve. 

"Goddamn it, Via," she cursed and grabbed a fresh bottle, opening it and sliding it down the bar. She then bent down and picked up the shattered pieces, throwing them away before using a wet cloth to wipe the beer from the floor. I was leaning against the bar, grinning down at my already annoyed sister. She peeked up at me during her attempts to clean up the mess she made because of me. 

"I take it went well," she commented and I could see her trying to suppress a smile. 

I nodded my head happily and bounced on my feet. "I got the job! I'm starting Monday at nine."

She finally let the smile appear when she straightened up. She walked around the counter and pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you," she said into my ear and I enveloped my slender arms around her just as tightly. The feeling that washed over me at that moment was that her words weren't solely aimed at me getting the job. But I let it go. For then, anyways. 

"Alright, the first round is on me," I said as I slipped on the barstool once she let go. 

"Fine, but no more repeating the other night. One drink, then you're on your way home, missy," Maya scolded me and narrowed her blue eyes. I saluted in understanding and she slid a double shot of vodka in my direction. The moment my fingers wrapped around the glass, my mind traveled back to the last time I was drinking. Even more so, to the morning after. The text, Zach, Maya ... Everyone being upset and the scorching guilt inside of me. 

I hesitated and Maya raised her eyebrows. "What? No more vodka?" 

I shifted uncomfortably on top of the bar stool. "I've been ignoring him." 

"Who?" 

"Zach." 

"So?" 

I stared at her for a moment or two. "So, I don't know ... " I paused, looking down at the clear liquid inside the tumbler and watched an ice cube float and melt on top. 

"You miss him," she asserted. 

I shrugged. 

"Via ... " she trailed off as the bar door opened and her gaze traveled to look at who arrived. But when she refused to speak of this subject any longer, I knew exactly who came. I took a deep breath but still couldn't bring myself to take a sip. The stool next to mine creaked as it was pulled back and then again when the large frame was seated down. I didn't dare to look in his direction. 

"Hey, long time," Zach's voice reached me. When I finally looked over, I was greeted by that familiar warm smile of his. 

"Y-yeah. It's been a while. Busy," I instantly made an excuse. It wasn't exactly a lie but it wasn't the truth either. 

"Yeah," he simply replied, clearly not satisfied with my answer but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he turned to Maya and ordered himself a beer while she was giving him her best dirty look. "How was the interview? Did you rock it?" 

I looked at him with a puzzled expression. I never told him about that. "How do you know I had an interview?" 

Zach cleared his throat and motioned his beer bottle towards Maya. "She told me." I felt like it was a lie but I couldn't tell. Why would Maya talk to Zach about me when she kept insisting that I stay clear of him? It didn't make any fucking sense. Zero. None. "So?" Zach urged me, ignoring the steak knives coming out of Maya's eyes.

"It went great, actually. I got the job." 

His smile broadened and I couldn't help but mirror it. "That's amazing, Via. I'm really happy for you." I could tell for a fact that he meant every single word. And I was grateful he did, although I didn't voice it. Seeing him again eased me a bit. I couldn't tell why but it did. 

Suddenly, he grew a little more nervous. The smile disappeared and a small frown appeared instead. "Can we talk?" he asked, his tone hopeful. 

"Uh..." I looked over at Maya who was clearly listening to our conversation. She shot a glare in my direction and I slumped slightly. 

"Please?" he tried again. 

I watched him for a moment, those mismatched eyes somehow convincing me even if I was determined to keep my distance just this morning. Hell, just minutes ago. 

He slid off his seat and I followed him out of the bar. Just before the door closed behind us, I heard Maya curse and throw the dishrag into the sink. I fixed my white blouse and then didn't know what to do with my hands. The pants I wore had no pockets and it wasn't a problem until that moment. So, instead of standing there awkwardly, I folded my arms over my chest, creating an invisible shield around me. Zach tore his fingers through his hair. 

"What?" I asked after he didn't say anything. 

"I ... Did I do something, Via?" he then asked. 

I frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"Well ... " He let out an exasperated sigh. "I thought we were ... friends." He said the last word like it hurt him to say it. 

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, my frown deepening. "We are," I mumbled. 

"Then why are you ignoring me?" 

I could see it, he was desperate for answers. Any kind. And he deserved it. I just didn't know what to tell him. For the time being, I watched the outlines of his tattoos going upward his arms and finally hiding under the short sleeves of his green T-shirt. 

"Say something, please," he pleaded. 

"Why do you care so much?" I asked as I looked over at him. 

He looked confused at my question. 

"Why do you care so much about me?" I asked again, adding to my question. 

Zach shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I don't know. I like you. I like hanging out with you." 

I sighed. This wasn't going to go anywhere, will it? Because of my own stubbornness. "Well, don't." 

He looked sad. His shoulders sagged a little, his hands finding his pockets. I wanted to hug him so badly. It had to go like ripping off a band-aid, no? Quick, momentary pain instead of dragging it on and on and making things worse as time passed. I wasn't a mean person. I accidentally said things sometimes because my mouth tended to work quicker than my brain could catch up but I never would've said things with the sole purpose to hurt someone. 

"I don't ... I don't have room for someone like you in my life right now, Zach." 

"Someone like me?" His voice was so small, it didn't match a man like him. The way he looked at me, like a child being denied their favorite toy. 

"Yeah, someone like you. Enough things are wrong with my life right now and I can't ... I won't waste my time with you. I need to focus on other things." I wanted to slap myself so hard. He had been nothing but kind to me. He saved my ass, he always made sure I was okay. He was a gentle giant and I could see his heart breaking in front of me. I didn't know why he cared or why he liked me to begin with. But it had to stop. It had to stop before I hurt him more. 

He was speechless and I was, too. I didn't like this side of me. I didn't think it ever came out before just then but I guess it had to. I wanted to tell him I'm just doing him a favor. I heard whispers from people, claiming I was insane and he didn't need a mess like that following him around. 

"Just leave me alone, Zach," I said and got ready to head down the street. Just then, his fingers wrapped around my forearm and I stopped mid-step. 

"You don't meet people who get you very often. At least I don't. I always had to live up to certain expectations. With my family, my friends. I'm not the smartest guy out there, far from the best ... But I care about you. It doesn't matter how or why, I just do. And if there's something I know, is that you don't walk away from people who do. I know your life is a mess right now, Via. Hell, I saw it first hand. I thought I was helping and I'm sorry if I, at some point, crossed a line." He let go of my hand and I froze in place, not daring to look at him. "I'll leave you alone if that's what you want. I just wanted to do right by you. For once." 

I frowned and opened my mouth but before my mind could catch up, I already heard the bar door slam shut. I could feel tears welling in my eyes. How could I do that to him? How could I hurt him like that? He showed me time and time again that his intentions were completely friendly and I threw him away like he'd kill half of my family. I couldn't get away fast enough, my drink on the bar remaining untouched. 

***

I was still sobbing by the time Maya got home. I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, an ashtray next to me full, papers scattered all over the room. I couldn't stop my chest from heaving up and down, squeezing my lungs and forcing out another sob. I couldn't get the image of his face out of my head. While I knew it was for the best, at least in the long run, the wound was still fresh. I was shaking and I couldn't stop thinking about the words he said to me. 

Maya sat in silence with her back against the side of the bed. I felt her gaze boring into me but I kept sliding the tip of the pencil over pieces of paper. One and then another and another. The pictures I drew didn't make sense. Just lines and curves and shades. A different one on each piece of paper I took. She didn't speak. She knew I needed to get it out of me. Maybe an hour passed, maybe two, I couldn't tell. I lost the track of time. I wasn't even sure if I could form a coherent thought. For a moment I felt like a patient in an asylum with a therapist watching over me. 

"Do you want to talk about it, yet?" she then asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to startle me. I still stirred in place and refused to take my eyes off the next drawing. I didn't say a single word, hoping that if I ignore her, she would let it go and let me be. 

"What did you say to him?" she persisted, still having her baby blues on my back. The sobs quieted down but the tears didn't stop. A few of them dripped on the paper, smearing the pencil strokes but I didn't care. 

"Via, you have to talk about it at some point," she tried again and I heard her shift but she didn't come closer to me nor touched me. It wasn't like me not to speak and she was growing more and more worried. It was supposed to be a good fucking day. 

"He trashed the bar," she then said and my movements came to a stop. I was listening. "Yeah, after you left. I asked what happened, why you didn't come back inside. He didn't tell me but he got so drunk. He had to be thrown out because he broke a few chairs. I know I said you need to stay away from him but I didn't mean━" 

"Then what did you mean, Maya?" I asked, my voice cold and distant. It was the first thing I've said in hours. Slowly, I turned my head and set my gaze on my sister. She was watching me but her lips were pressed into a hard line. 

"Please, explain. What did you fucking mean? Because as far as I know, he was nice to me. He was kind, Maya. He didn't ask stupid questions when people acted weird around me. He didn't act like a fucking weirdo like you do every single time I ask you something about my life. About something that doesn't make sense to me. He understood me. He didn't judge. And you," I pointed my index finger at her, "you told me to stay away from him. Why?" I could feel anger bubbling in my bloodstream and I wasn't sure I could keep it contained. I was so angry with myself, with her, with the world, with God, with everything. "Were you jealous? That I didn't need you that much anymore?" 

Her crystalline optics rested on me, her lips slightly parted as if she didn't know what to say, even more so ━ couldn't believe the words spitting out of my mouth. 

"Because from where I'm standing, Maya, there was nothing else for me to do to keep you happy. He was a nice guy and you made it sound like he's a fucking serial killer! We were friends! So, no. I don't want to talk about it with you. Just let me draw and leave me the fuck alone." 

By the time I was finished with my rant, my chest was heaving. I didn't know how much longer I would be able to keep it together. It was becoming too much. I couldn't keep pretending like I didn't feel like a huge part of me was missing. I needed answers. I needed calm and he was the only thing keeping me in that state. I didn't mind the glances when he was next to me because he always did something stupid to distract me. But the audacity of my sister ... She was the one who made me do it and now she tried to act like it was all my doing and my fault? 

Scrambling to her feet, I could see her frame beginning to quiver ever so slightly. "I'm just trying to protect you ... " she whispered, her voice breaking. And for the first time in my life, I didn't believe her. 

"No. You just want me to stay locked in this fucking apartment. Do you realize how lonely it is? You see me hanging out with Trina and that's fine but as soon as I make another friend you can't handle it anymore. What was even the point? Because I'm so fucking over this cryptic shit, Maya." 

She shook her head. "I can't tell you." 

"Bullshit!" 

"I ... I have to go," she said and hurried out of my room, her palm covering her mouth to muffle the sobs. Great. Just fucking great. 

I screamed in sheer annoyance, the bones on the bottom halves of my palms slamming against my temples. Work, fucking work already. Remember at least why you can't fucking remember. 

The world around me was crashing down in flames and it occurred to me that maybe it was my own fault. Especially when I looked down at the scattered papers across my bedroom floor. I didn't place them in any specific order, I didn't even know what the drawings were supposed to be while I was drawing them. But together, just as they were, they formed a perfect Zach's face, lips parted and tears streaming down his cheeks. 

"I'm going insane, aren't I?" I whispered to myself.