||Jamilla Tate|| First Person ||

        My head feels like it's been submerged underwater. There's a consistent glub! glub! glub! noise that replaces the words escaping from their mouths as they speak, drowning out the sound emerging from their moving lips. I'm not sure if I've forgotten how to breathe or if my lungs just don't want to work anymore, but I'm holding my breath until my head starts to hurt. I have half the mind to excuse myself to the bathroom, but I've been boxed into my seat by the two boys and my scheming cousin.

        When I first came back home to Cleveland, it was a mission to forget about Josh and everything else that I had left behind at Ohio State. I missed the laughter that consumed me when I realized that I had actual friends that I didn't need to hide from. I missed the late summer nights when Tara would demand that we do something dumb, like laying down in the quad and staring up at the sky for what felt like an eternity. I missed the little thump in my chest that would skip a beat whenever Josh would press his lips to mine. I missed feeling like I finally belonged somewhere— like I was no longer a secondary character featuring in my own motion picture.

        But after the first month home, it became apparent that there was no point getting hung up over what I had lost. The important part was that it had happened— I had lived, at least once in my life, and I loved how it felt.

        It all comes back to me in a rush— I can hear his voice repeating my name, and Nina's hand is waving impatiently in front of my face in real-time now. I stare at them blankly, shocked and upset all at once. "Jamilla," Josh says again.

        "When?" I quietly hiss at Nina, who grins proudly at me. She easily brushes off the slight twinge of animosity in my voice. I cross my arms over my chest childishly and try to shift my body closer to the wall without Tyler noticing. I'm pretty sure he does, but I don't to apologize.

        "I texted Joseph after the concert." Nina explains briefly to me. "I thought you guys should see each other again before they leave." I thought you guys should stop being a bunch of pissy babies and make up for whatever beef you had in college, she means, but they don't need to know that. I can decode Nina with no trouble— I speak her language. I can tell that she's had enough of me constantly whining about all of my close encounters with the boy, which I can't blame her for. I'm even tired of it myself.

        "You're leaving the ?" I turn my head to look at Josh automatically upon hearing the news, my heart heavy. Though I can finally breathe again, my relief palpable, seeing the guilt in his eyes boils resentment within me. He pauses for a moment, staring directly at me, before he nods in confirmation.

        "We're on tour right now," Tyler says with a small smile. I want to congratulate them immediately— I want to tell Tyler and Josh that I'm so glad that they've figured out what they wanted to do with their lives. I want to praise Josh for working through the anxiety that would keep him up at night, his hands trembling as he clung to me helplessly. I want to tell them that they deserve the universe and more, but my throat is closing up and I'm sure that I might cry.

        "Excuse me," I mumble pathetically as I rise to my feet, trying to squeeze past Tyler's knobby knees and the table. Nina says something, but I can't hear it over the sound of the blood sloshing around in my head. I hastily wipe my eyes, surprised that they're dry, and head for the door, ignoring my cousin's voice.

        When I'm finally outside, I can breathe again. I take a seat on a rusting, dark bench by the door, wincing as the cold of the metal frame seeps through the fabric of my cheap jeans. The cold of the bench is nicer than the cold of the restaurant though, I decide. I would rather this over being forced to pretend that everything was perfect again.

        It's not long before the door swings wide open again, the bell chiming noisily to the sound of the squeaking door hinges as Josh Dun steps out— as expected. He doesn't say anything immediately, which I'm grateful for. Instead, he walks over to me wordlessly and takes a seat beside me. His cologne, which is deep and light and familiar all at the same time, is a bit comforting to me. I manage to resist looking over at him for all of three seconds.

        "You have stubble," I mention passingly. Josh looks over at me, instinctively reaching for his chin at my comment. I can't help the small smile that threatens to reveal itself as I watch him rub his jaw absentmindedly. "And the blue hair is different. Very different." I want to reach out and ruffle the messy strands like I used to, but I remember suddenly that it isn't my place to do so. I want to be familiar with him again, but I'm not sure if it's the best choice. To see that he's made the effort with Tyler to see me again is comforting— at least I know that he doesn't hate me anymore. But thinking back to what we had before, I'm not sure if it would be the healthiest choice for either of us.

        "I hope it doesn't take away from my boyish good looks." He quips easily, a smile tugging at his mouth for a moment. He doesn't notice my smile's slight falter as I stare at him— I don't mean to stare at him, but I do so anyways. I can see his cheeks flare immediately as he averts his gaze to the ground. I cross my arms over my chest and sink in my seat.

        "No," I say reassuringly, "they're still there." The smile on his face then is genuine— the same smile that I had grown so accustomed to. I never quite realized how hollow it left me after all the years apart. Josh holds out his hand to me, his palm covered in the natural dips and valleys that were always there. But there were also new marks that I'd never seen before. He had callouses along the length of his palm, where his fingers started. I couldn't count them accurately because some blisters were merging with others, looking on the verge of bursting. A couple were starting to form on his fingers as well. Without thinking about it, I gently take his hand in mine, tracing the scars.

        "My hands hurt," he says almost childishly.

        I frown at him. "You're hopeless." I can't help the laugh that slips out of my mouth when Josh snorts. I shake my head, dropping his hand back in his lap.

        "When was I not?" He says, but when I don't reply immediately, he sighs heavily. It's like we forgot for just a moment that there were eight years and several thousand miles of disassociation that separated us. He knew Jamilla Tate as an eighteen year old girl— she was slightly ignorant, naive, and incapable of connecting with others at an empathetic level. She didn't care about who she hurt or how she hurt them— only that she was spared the pain of staying longer than she needed to. The fact that he ever felt something for me that was even remotely close to love is slightly concerning, but who was I to judge people on their choices? I dated my own fair share of guys that landed themselves in the scumbag category, and though I don't shy away from labeling my exes as douches, it sickens me to think that for even a fraction of a second, that was exactly how Josh had thought of me. It scares me to know that for even the short duration of a bad night filled with copious amounts of alcohol, I was the miserable ex that he would mention when chatting up another doe-eyed girl at the bar who was simply a sucker for a boyish grin.

"How's the family?" I ask him quietly, because there was a time where they welcomed me with open arms when I had nowhere else to go. Josh smiles softly at that, leading me to believe that I said something right.

"Abby thinks I'm an idiot." He says immediately. "She didn't speak to me for a month after... after you left." I squirm in my seat upon hearing that. "She said I ruined her ship." I want to laugh at that, but I'm not sure if it's the right time to.

"You didn't tell her it was my fault?" I raise my eyebrows. Josh lets out a sad laugh as he shakes his head. My stomach clenches.

"You were her hero," Josh says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "She practically worshipped you." Josh turns his head to look over at me.

"Bad choice," I wince painfully.

"I'd say it was still a good one." Josh tells me. I turn away from him, staring deep into the sky for a moment. My heart was beating stupidly fast after all these years— it was absolutely ridiculous. "Ashley and Jordan are doing good— they're grown up too now. Mom and Dad are the same... My aunt was so mad at me—" I find myself not paying attention to what he says after that because somehow it always seems to go back to how his family was upset about our breakup.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he was trying to guilt me. But I knew Josh, and I knew that he wouldn't try to purposely hurt my feelings like this... would he?

Before he can say anything else about him drawing the short stick in the blame game, I pull myself back up to my feet and distance myself from him. Josh stares blankly at me, his eyebrows slowly furrowing as he makes eye contact with me. I stare at him suspiciously as I speak. "Just spit it out, won't you?"

"What?" Josh raises his eyebrows as he gets to his feet.

"I know that you're still mad at me." I try to tell Josh firmly, but my voice shakes pathetically as I speak. "And I know that we're not going to be best friends immediately, but come on, Josh."

"You were the one who left, Jamilla." Josh says accusingly, a hint of malice in his voice as he speaks. "You left your friends behind without saying a thing! You pretended that you never existed— well guess what? You did. You didn't even care who you were hurting." I can hear my heart pounding loudly in my ears. My fingers are trembling at my sides as he continues to belittle me for every wrong that I've ever committed. It was stupid of me to pretend that we could walk past the flaming pile of shit that was our relationship. It was dumb of me to think that he'd forget what I did to him and everyone else.

"You say it like I had a choice." I try to say calmly. Josh glares at me with that same temper that I said goodbye to.

"You always had a choice." Josh yells at me. "You had the choice to stay! You had the choice to ask for help! You had the choice to tell us the truth! You had the choice to—"

"I had no choice!" I don't realize that I've screamed it at him until the air around us stills with the tension, complete silence enveloping the both of us like a badly timed hug. He stares at me, his eyes narrowed and a frown tugging at his mouth. I think of apologizing, but I don't have it in me to open my mouth and say the two words he so desperately wants to hear. Josh scoffs at me, shaking his head as he walks straight past me and for the door.

"I clearly made a mistake." Josh says harshly.

"I think you did."