this thing upon me, howls like a beast. you flower. you feast. [p]

^{when we get up in the morning —}

I knew spending the night at Luke's place was a mistake. I knew it as I was doing it, still intoxicated and freezing from having just stepped out of the warm shower. I knew I shouldn't have done it the minute I was doing it, and yet I still did it. I keep telling myself I only did it because I was tired, or drunk but I think a deeper part of me wanted to be able to be for Luke what he wanted me to be. She wanted to reciprocate his affection and be able to spend the night but I knew I could never be for Luke what he wanted me to be. And that disconnect hurts me. It causes me actual emotional pain, wanting to give him what I just can't, and what he sure as hell deserves. But instead of dealing with the mess I made head on, I do what I always do, and I avoid it. As soon as the sun rose, I gathered my things and left his apartment and haven't made an effort to talk to him since. Haven't even reached out to him as friends like I normally do. Some part of me knew that dealing with this would be emotionally taxing and wanted to avoid the problem entirely.

It's been a week since I spent the night there, my entire week having dragged on in the everyday monotony of school, but I had finally made it to Friday. In the spirit of still avoiding my problems, I texted Sierra, asking her if she wanted to have a girls night at the bar (being sure to emphasize that I wanted it to be a girls only night) and quickly made my evening plans. I had every intention to follow my normal weekend routine, only this time, unlike the past few weekends, I would not be going home with Luke. I needed to get him out of my system and I was overdue for a new endeavor. That was, of course, what I thought was going to happen. And then I got to the bar, and I found myself being less and less cautious with my intake (something that NEVER happens but was definitely a result of my current confusion) and at some point I looked up and found I couldn't even focus on the cute guy clearly flirting with me because all I was thinking about was Luke. Thinking about him and all his kind gestures and how after all he's done for me, he still doesn't know anything about why I treat him the way I do. And somehow in my drunk state, the only thing going through my head is he needs to know.

I turn to Sierra, completely ignoring the guy across from me and start telling her in slurred sentences that I need to see him, I need to tell him, moving to stand up and leave, stumbling slightly and feeling the world spin around me. Sierra quickly notices that I'm way drunker than I have been in a while and probably assesses that I need her help and that I probably shouldn't be left to my own devices right now. I make a mental note to tell her what a great friend she is when I'm sober. But for now I just keep repeating how I need to see Luke. I can see her typing away at her phone, texting someone maybe, ordering an uber maybe, but the words on her phone screen blend together so I look away. I don't know how we got there, but next thing I know, I recognize that we are outside of Luke's apartment building and I feel relief and joy rush over me, knowing that Sierra brought me here to see him. As soon as he opens the door I practically pounce on him and hug him tight, squealing "Luuke!" my words coming out slurred. "oh my gosh it's youuu I'm soooo happy Sierra brought me here" I giggle my arms still wrapped around his neck in an embrace.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

Luke has never seen me this drunk before, it takes a high degree of mental chaos for me to be careless with anything, especially how much alcohol I'm consuming so I think that just speaks to how entirely muddled my brain feels about this whole Luke situation. I want nothing to do with any kind of relationship or commitment and everything to do with him and that feeling has only strengthened with time, to the point where I needed to run away. I might regret this in the morning, but all I know right now, all I can think about right now is that Luke doesn't deserve what I did to him and that I needed to make it right. Not that I had thought that far ahead as to how I was going to make things right but I needed to figure it out.

I only really grasped how deep I am into this issue when the act of Luke simply kissing my forehead makes me grin uncontrollably like a little girl. He pulls me into his kitchen, already having a cup of coffee brewed for me. "I don't know what you're talking about Luke I feel fantastic" I ramble but accepting the cup of hot coffee anyway, sitting at one of the kitchen stools. "I mean things didn't go exactly like I wanted them to I kept starting to talk to cute guys but then I stopped because what's the point if no one can make me feel as good as you do, you know?" I speak the words, letting them pour out with very minimal filtering, telling him way more information than he needed to know. I miraculously avoided spilling the fact that I hadn't stopped thinking about our situation since last Friday. What I told him wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth of how I ended up here.

I take a drink from the mug of coffee in my hands and set it on the counter, standing up and walking back over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, suddenly wanting to be close to him, if not sleep with him, in this instant. I put on my best begging, puppy eyes and look up at him. "I'm sorry I ignored you" I tell him, giving him a little pout hoping it'd help him forgive me and give me what I want faster. "I just like to disappear sometimes and you don't know why and I shouldn't do that I'm sorry" I ramble, not entirely sure of what I'm really saying right now but feeling the need to apologize for ignoring him when that's not what I want at all.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

He doesn't push me away or anything when all I wanted to do was be close to him, touch him, feel his sturdy body against mine, solid and steadying when everything around me was spinning. And he has all the right words for me, telling me that while he doesn't understand me (not his fault, no one does, sometimes I don't), he respects me and cares about me. His words are almost shocking to me in this state, because if it were anyone else in his situation, they would be at the very least, mildly annoyed and frustrated with my behavior. And they would be right to feel those things. I almost want him to feel those things. I want him to be upset with me, because I haven't been a good friend to him. I haven't been treating him how he deserves to be treated. and I want him to acknowledge that. I want him to be mad at me to reduce the chances of him being hurt by me.

Truthfully, in hindsight, I probably shouldn't have ever started hooking up with him, especially since we were friends before we started hooking up. Not as close as we are now, but still friends. I should've known that sleeping with your friends never leads to anything good. But now I'm too deep in this thing to disappear again, not after tonight. And my mind is racing with what I'm going to do about him. My mind always moves a mile a minute but right now it is especially overwhelming with the addition of more alcohol than I've maybe ever consumed. I let out a soft sigh before tightening my grip around him and laying my head on his chest, closing my eyes and listening to his heartbeat so I don't have to look at him for a moment. Everything going on in my head is overwhelming me and he probably thinks I'm crazy.

"Why do you let me do that, Luke?" I ask quietly, my entire demeanor shifting as a result of his beyond perfect words to me. I have yet to notice a flaw in this boy besides the fact that he lets me get away with treating him like sh*t. Besides the fact that he's too trusting, at least towards me. "I can never give you what you deserve, I can't even tell you about him" I realize I'm probably not making any sense to him. I've never talked to him about my past relationship and why he's never seen me in a relationship, despite having a lineup of guys who would date me in an instant. He deserves, at the very least, to know but he won't ever ask for it and even though I just brought it up, I still don't know if I'll ever be able to tell him. If I did tell him, everything will change, but the way it feels, things have already changed.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

All I can think about in this moment is how this is not fair. It's like a mantra on repeat in my head. This is not fair. Not only is it not fair that I don't think I have it in me to be the person he wants me to be, but it's not fair that I can't even bring myself to give him the explanation of why I haven't given more than sex to anyone in years. I don't even let guys spend money on me other than buying me drinks. He deserves to know, and it might make me feel better to tell him. I'm sure he would understand where I'm coming from if he knew the whole story but it's hard for me to talk about, to open up. Only a handful of people know about my baggage, Sierra is one of them, but a lot of my friends don't know.

There is an entire war going on in my mind that he doesn't know about and I can't imagine how confusing my flip flopping behavior is to him, how unhinged I must be coming across right now when all of my walls were destroyed by alcohol. Me spending the night here was the first time he's seen me do something that's not precisely calculated and planned. And honestly it feels like a mistake in this moment, it feels like the beginning of a spiral. "I want to tell you.." I whisper. "I want you to know why I run from you, you deserve that. I just don't know" I'm not typically an emotional drunk but this is such a strange situation it's not surprising. I am stuck on the edge between wanting to spill the entire story to him and just going back to ignoring him. Going the easy route (although clearly not as easy as I thought it might be), avoiding the problem all together by avoiding him and this all together. I'm standing on the edge and truthfully, I want him to push me one way or another. I secretly want him to make the decision for me, and then I remind myself that the reason I like him so much is that he doesn't do that kind of sh*t. But still, in this moment, I would love to be relieved from the pressure of this decision I know I have to make.

I step away from his embrace for a moment, hoping it will clear my head a little but I tug him over to the couch, sinking into it as he sits next to me. I grab his hand and start playing mindlessly with it, holding it gently, running my thumb over his knuckles, focusing on it for a moment (just to focus on something) and being silent for the time because I don't know if I have the right words to say right now. I don't know if I can say the words I want to say right now.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

I half listen to Luke as he talks to me, of course still wrapped up in my own head and thoughts as I just stare at our hands and focus my eyes on my small, perfectly manicured hands brushing over his own hands. I don't hear every word that comes out of his mouth because I am not in a good place to be the best listener and I can tell he's rambling a little too, but I know that what he's saying are just the perfect words that girls only ever hope to hear. The words that come from a Nicholas Sparks movie that you think are simply too good to be true. And that might be the saddest part to me. Luke is one of the most genuine people I've ever met and I know he means every word that comes out of his mouth. I also know that as long as I keep pushing him away, he will continue to let me. He says he's not going anywhere and that he'll always be here for me, always listen to me when I'm ready to talk to him and normally that's the kind of talk that scares me, the overwhelming, almost suffocating dedication to making us work, but everything is different with Luke. When he says that, it doesn't scare me away. It just makes me sad. Sad that I can't give him what he deserves and that I can't seem to convince him of that.

As soon as he's finished talking, I finally make eye contact with him, trying to come up with something that's just as perfect as what he just told me, and what I owe him. For a moment I think I might just spill everything that I rarely tell to anyone, just to get it off my chest. Just to give him the reason that things have to be the way that they are. For a moment I think that might happen, but I stop myself. I'm far too tired, physically and emotionally, to get into that story tonight even though it feels like a ticking time bomb, just a matter of time before I cave. And since I searched and searched for the perfect words and never found anything, I go for the less than perfect response, "I know" I whisper. I know what he said was the truth and I know that he's painfully perfect and that he's ridiculously dedicated to me even when I've given him almost nothing but physical intimacy and aromantic friendship and long periods of silence. "I know you're so absolutely perfect" I say, shifting on the couch so I'm straddling him. I put a hand on each cheek and kiss him. When I pull away from the kiss, I add "I know you shouldn't let me do what I do to you". And I kiss him again.

I repeat this pattern a few more times, caught between wanting to be physically close to him and intimate and feeling immensely guilty for what I've been putting him through and what I continue to put him through. Kissing him and then reminding myself, out loud, of how much I don't deserve to even have the option to be with a guy like him."I know I don't deserve you." "I know I should at least give you an explanation." and so on. After a little while of this, I lay my head on his shoulder, just taking a moment to be close to him, to feel his solid, sturdy body beneath me. I close my eyes and take in the subtle scent of his detergent mixed with his natural scent and a hint of musky cologne. I take in his bodily warmth. Without opening my eyes or lifting my head I whisper "I'm sorry for everything. Can we go to bed now?"

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

Although there are about a million thoughts swirling around my head, I've reached a point where I am physically unable to stay awake for much longer and decide that whatever regrettable decisions I could make between now and tomorrow morning (and trust me, I've already made plenty) is now a problem for tomorrow. As I gratefully accept the t-shirt Luke tosses in my direction, I come to terms with the idea that I have not a single clue of what is going to happen tomorrow. Since I've infamously become a bit of a control freak since my last relationship ended, I can't decide if my acceptance of the unknown is progress, or if it's simply that I am way too inebriated to be upset at the thought of it. Only time will tell. For now, I only care about wrestling with my current crop top and skinny jeans, relieved beyond words to be in my underwear and Luke's shirt, after what felt like ages.

Thankfully, I didn't have the time or motivation to do my usual makeup look so I'm not so worried about ruining his pillowcases as I tie my hair up and climb under his sheets, which feels like lying on a cloud in my current state, even though it's pretty standard college apartment furniture. Whether or not I subconsciously spent less time on my appearance expecting that I wouldn't see Luke tonight... another problem to ponder tomorrow I guess. I feel him plant a sweet kiss on my forehead and I hear him say something that I don't really process since I suddenly feel so drowsy but I'm sure is very sweet and what I've come to expect from him. Truthfully, lying here with him feels blissful in this moment. I realize this is the first time we've ever slept in the same bed together. I always leave in the middle of the night and the one time I did spend the night here, he slept on the couch like the gentleman he is. I silently curse myself for not allowing us to spend the night together earlier, now that I've had a glimpse of how euphoric it is- in a way that's totally different from what I'm used to with him. And then I silently remind myself that fear of this feeling is the entire reason I've never spent the night with him. A complete catch-22.

Whatever happens tomorrow, if I feel I need to run from him again, at least we'll have this night together.

I don't have the energy to stay awake any longer, no matter how much I might want to, just to drink in this moment, but I fall asleep feeling more cared for and protected than I have in years. I slept dreamless and deeply, the alcohol taking all of my available energy to process. By the time I wake up, there's already plenty of daylight streaming in through the windows, the kind of daylight that's so bright and feels so obnoxious after a night out that even blinds are defenseless to it. I don't open my eyes right away, but shift a little, covering my eyes with a pillow to block out the sunlight and taking a deep breath to try and calm down. As expected, the alcohol was mostly responsible for me letting my walls down (although not all the way down) and I can feel the panic rising as my tired brain tries to find a way out of the mess I made. Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling my best physically either, my brain still feels tired and fuzzy, my body feels twice as heavy as it normally does and my head aches, but I know these will go away with a day of rest, some medicine and water. They don't compare at all to the dread I feel thinking about having to face Luke after last night. Last night was a turning point, I know that and he knows that. And I know that whatever choice I make isn't going to feel like the right one anymore.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

I already know how this is going to go on Luke's end because I know him like the back of my hand at this point. He's going to be perfect and princely and sweet and he'll probably offer to make me breakfast and coffee or offer me the entire world. If I had been in my right mind, I never would've ended up here in the first place and even if I had I certainly would have the strength to gently but firmly turn .him down, keeping the line between friends and lovers as clear as possible. Now I don't know what I'll do, now that the line I've worked so hard and so long to establish is rapidly fading. And I hate myself for putting myself in this situation and about ten times more for putting him in this situation. The most selfless man I've ever met and I can't just leave and let him get on with his life, see other people and maybe even fall in love. I don't even have the strength to do that for him. Truly the physical hangover I feel is absolutely nothing compared to the war inside my mind.

Just like I predicted Luke asks me how I slept, like this is the most natural thing in the world for him, waking up next to me. Of course I am so incredibly grateful for him taking care of me, and generally making sure I was safe and comfortable last night, and I want him to know how much I appreciate that but every bone in my body is screaming at me to leave. "I slept deeper than I have in months, thanks for sacrificing half of your bed for me." I answer with a slightly playful tone and a small fake smile, trying to keep it light and let him know that I truly am thankful but the smile doesn't reach my eyes. It's forced and it's hard to fake with the emotional turmoil I'm currently experiencing that's been building up for the past week. I hyper-focus on picking at a hangnail, too much going on in my mind to make eye contact with the beautiful boy beside me as he offers to make me a coffee, gushing like a little kid in the sweetest way about how he's been perfecting his recipe.

I don't say anything for a little while, genuinely unsure of what to say or do because nothing, and I mean nothing, feels right to me. I'm silent for as long as I can be, for as long is socially acceptable before I open my mouth. "Luke... I-I really shouldn't even be here right now. I shouldn't have come here in the first place and I.. I don't think I can stay." I finally say, tripping over the words in a way that's incredibly uncharacteristic of me to anyone who knows me. As soon as I say those words, just like I expected, they felt wrong. I felt an ache in my chest as I thought about letting him down even through the seemingly small act of denying a coffee. "But.. I guess I couldn't say no to coffee.." I concede after thinking about it for a moment. I don't know what my next step is, I'm taking it minute by minute because that's all I can do but I certainly hope accepting a coffee can't do much more damage than what was already done last night. Who honestly knows though, I feel like I'm walking through a minefield right now, just trying to make the next right move but having no idea where that is.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{when we get up in the morning —}

I know that all the tension I feel in the room right now is 100% my own fault, and that life would just be so much easier if I stopped fighting every desire that arose that wasn't strictly sexual but I've known for a long time now that I have a hard time letting go of things that are in the past, much more so than other people I know. If it were under my control, I would be able to teach myself to trust and to fall freely again like I used to, but after months that turned into years of trying unsuccessfully to retrain my brain, the emotional toll became a bit too much and I found it easier to just stop trying. To just stop trying and decide to not even attempt anything romantic or even resembling romance. No dates, no sleepovers, minimal contact after the fact. And I got comfortable in that rhythm, so much so that I felt confident sleeping with a friend when everyone knows that no good ever comes from friends with benefits. It plays in a constant loop over and over in my head, I shouldn't have tried, I shouldn't have tried, I shouldn't have tried.

I wouldn't say I feel regret at my decision to stay a few extra minutes, somewhat the opposite, I'm glad to be able to sit and catch my breath a little, to enjoy his company and have a cup of coffee to ease the headache that's been developing. But I am scared of giving away too much information, agreeing to something too soon, but I don't even know where the line is anymore, it's become so blurred. At least Luke seems happy by my decision to at least join him for a cup of coffee. He gets excited and starts to pull me up and out of bed and downstairs. I almost protest at this, since he seems to have forgotten that I'm not feeling especially energetic, and I also don't want to be seen if his roommates will be roaming in their shared kitchen/living space. However, I decide to pick my battles, especially since I don't want to dampen his excitement if this day is to end in heartache, which it very well might. I slide into the same counter seat I took up last night, leaning my elbows on the countertop and just observing, happy to focus on literally anything but whatever is going on in my head and watch him talk excitedly about one of his many hobbies/passions. I know he's one of those people who could be considered a coffee snob whereas I'll drink just about anything with caffeine that remotely resembles coffee but I always love watching people in their zone, people talking about one of their passions.

For a split second I start to feel better, a little lighter since it seems Luke has no intention of holding my indecision or my secretive nature against me. It's bittersweet, of course, it lightens my mood and takes me back a few years to when we had first met through mutual friends, enjoying our underclassmen years in a group setting, in and out of cafeterias, dorms, libraries and sh*tty house parties. For a moment my heart feels light and young again, as I felt when we first met, before me and my baggage made everything complicated and difficult. The other side of me wishes he would hold those things against me, he would be right to do so, but I'm still glad he doesn't. I've burned too many bridges that I'm thankful for this small mercy, that even in this moment he still has the goodness in his heart to be kind, understanding and even playful. I can't help the stupid smile across my face just from watching him do his thing. "Of all the things I've put you through I hardly think disliking a latte would be the one to break you" I comment in a playful tone but can't help but throw in a little self deprecation. "Plus I'll enjoy just about anything that remotely resembles coffee." I throw in quickly, careful to keep the mood light because I think I would fall apart if it were anything else.

^{— i'll be better on my own, I swear}

^{call me in the morning, tell me how last night went —}

It's shocking how in a matter of minutes we shifted from the suffocating tension of two people waking up next to each other and having no clue where to go from there to this playful conversation, talking and laughing about coffee of all things, but that's my relationship with Luke in a nutshell these days. It's mental ping-pong, sleeping with him, ignoring him for a week, showing up at his place drunk after ignoring him, staying for coffee, messing around like we're nothing more than the best of friends. All I can think is how does this boy not hate me, yet? How is he still here? It goes without saying that he has a crush on me and now he knows that it's reciprocated, but the degree of games he puts up with from me doesn't make sense for a crush.

He makes a playful comment about how I break his heart every day and how it's miraculous he has the willpower to carry on like that. I know he meant that in a teasing way but I also know there's some truth in what he said and it still stung a little bit to hear, I only hope it's not evident on my expression. I know he doesn't think I'm a bad person, but I think he should, I think he should be more hurt by my behavior than he is, which only complicates a situation that certainly doesn't need any extra complicating. I spend the rest of his latte-making process in content silence, just watching him do his thing, listening to him give a melodramatic monologue about how "it's not just coffee, it's art" and blah, blah, blah.

His monologue is cut somewhat short when the espresso machine starts screaming at him and he combines all the elements into the mug and slides it across the counter towards me, I smile softly in thanks and grab the warm mug, wrapping both hands around it and taking a sip. To be quite honest with you, it's good but I don't know anything about what makes coffee good. "Mmm... tastes like... coffee" I mumble, keeping the playful tone going, but also somewhat unsure what to say about it other than that. I knew this would get a faked dramatic reaction out of him, and seeing his fake shocked expression puts a little smile on my face. "What?!! I mean it tastes like.. good coffee, I'm not sure what else you want me to say about it" I giggle, going back for another sip and watching him reset the machine to make himself a drink.

I let this time pass in silence that somehow manages to be comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. I take slow sips of the delicious coffee drink in front of me, savoring it's warmth as well as the caffeine that I desperately need, focusing on the mug or my phone (I have to answer my friends "are you ok?" texts) or my fingernails or a scratch in the counter in between sips. Basically focusing on anything but Luke. Yet, I can feel his eyes on me in that way where you can just feel it without having to look at the other person. I glance up anyway, confirming what I knew was true anyway. I inhale and let out a soft sigh, knowing that the playfulness couldn't last long and that I can't leave without at least trying to talk about the obvious. I don't know that I'm capable of making a decision one way or another on this subject but I also feel that I'm running out of time to make it. Like every passing day that I don't make a decision causes any possible hurt for either one of us to increase exponentially. "You're looking at me like you want to ask me a question." I say softly, probably stating the obvious. I hesitate for a moment, not sure I'll be able to handle his answer to my next question, but I ask it anyway. "What do you want to know, Luke?"

^{— i'm here. but don't count on me to stay}

^{call me in the morning, tell me how last night went —}

As I give Luke a moment to think about all of the questions in the world he could possibly ask me, I recognize that this is something that seems out of character to him. And it is. It's out of character based on the level of discomfort and anxiety that grows with every silent moment between us as I think of all the things in the world he could ask. Maybe I shouldn't have offered this at all, but I know in my heart that I can't leave until it feels right to do so. And I get the feeling that I need to be the one who more or less leads the conversation, or at least allow him the chance to lead the conversation, or it won't ever feel like we're in a good place for me to disappear again. Still, that doesn't mean I'm any less nervous about what he could ask me, it could be something small and light, maybe even unrelated to us (although I doubt that) or it could be something big and important, something that I could easily spend the entire day getting into. Why are you the way that you are? Why do you keep pushing me away? The thought that he could ask me just about anything and I can't really deflect since I'm the one who gave him this chance is difficult for the control freak in me. Everything about this is difficult for the control freak in me.

I let him think for a moment, willing my heart to stop beating so fast, entirely convinced that he can hear it pounding. By the time this is over I figure I'll have picked my fingernails down to the beds. When he finally does come out and ask me his question, I breathe a soft sigh of relief that it wasn't as challenging a question as I was fearing. And yet, it stings a little bit, that after everything I've done to him, the only thing he's concerned about is not losing me as a friend, even though I've been a horrible friend to him, and an even worse lover. I firmly believe that he should hate me, and yet here he is concerned that he'll lose me as a friend of all things.... I don't hesitate with my answer, nodding my head "Yes" I affirm, glad I could give him at least one answer he'll like today, it might be the only one. "Well... as long as it's still good for me" I add at the risk of sounding both wishy-washy and selfish, after thinking about it for a moment. The truth is we'll probably always be friends of some kind, if not friends then at least friendly because we belong to the same social circles. But I can't make him any promises, that much has been evident for months at this point. I realize how selfish that comes off, and maybe I am selfish, but I need to always put myself first, in every aspect, and I sincerely hope he's doing the same. I hope that the moment he realizes that I'm not good for him he'll put as much distance as he needs between us, but I can only control myself.

I want to jump out of my seat and wrap my arms around him and tell him how sorry I am for all of this, all the bullsh*t we have to deal with because of me, but I don't, because he already knows how sorry I am and because our deeply personal conversation got interrupted by his roommate Calum joining us in the kitchen "Reagan! Fancy seeing you in the daylight hours" He comments, and I'm positive that whatever he thinks he walked in on is incorrect. I'm thankful for a distraction because I haven't been able to think straight all morning. "Hey Cal, I was.. actually just leaving" I comment casually, casting a side glance at Luke. "But you can drive me home?" I add, thankful for a natural exit but hopefully softening the blow by giving Luke just a little more time. Just a quick car ride, I tell myself, even though just a little bit ago it was "just a cup of coffee".

^{— i'm here. but don't count on me to stay}