Letting myself indulge in memories of the past is a dangerous game. I remember the sensation of loving someone so absolutely that it felt like I was invincible; that as long as the two of us were together then nothing would ever get in our way, we were soulmates. I still feel that magnetic pull for him beneath my skin, as much as I try to ignore it, and often turn over the idea that the idea of invincibility has never been disproven. If we had stayed together, maybe we’d both be better off. I was the one who ruined it, brought him aside one day and taken his hands in mine, bringing them up to my lips as I bought time trying to think of how to properly break it off with somebody who is even a fraction as in love with you as you are with them. He’d been confused, I remember, but not suspicious at all, that was the heartbreaking part- I forced myself to meet his eyes when I told him what I wanted, watched him sort of fall apart, watched cracks appear in his control, saw him at his most vulnerable.

I don’t really know what I expected his response to be. The crueler, more self-centred part of me wanted tears, wanted him to beg me to stay so I felt good about myself in the face of breaking someone’s heart. That isn’t Ryan, though; he just stared at me for a while, first in disbelief, his expression between desperation and nervous amusement, like the idea of me leaving him was so ridiculous that he was going to laugh. It wasn’t a joke, though, watching him sit back, pull his hands away, stare at me like I’d- well. Like I’d just done what I’d done. He’d asked me why and I’d struggled to answer, because there was no reason, there was just a part of me that screamed all the time I had committed to someone way too young, we were just emotionally dependent, there was more for the both of us out there. It was selfish and, as I realised long afterwards, [i]untrue,[/i] but by that point it was too late. I wasn’t cruel enough to come back into his life and ask for him to take me back like I hadn’t disregarded every love song we’d ever written for one another, every word we’d ever said. Would he even want me back? I’m not so sure. I imagine he’s built up some walls since we finished.

So I just soldiered on, pretending I still believed in what I said with conviction, but made no actual indication that I was moving on- didn’t date, didn’t even try, hadn’t even had some silly rebound fling that I thought I would have. There was, therefore, nothing to fuel any songs from my new record other than him, as I stupidly decided to write songs about passion from a relationship that had gone cold- Hurricane was almost an insult, but it wasn’t meant to be. I wonder what he thought of that one and cringe. It was cruel. Other songs, though, were apologetic. The whole fucking thing was for him, just an extended apology, with a touch or two of arrogance to keep me from embarrassing myself. Hearing Ryan’s song put me in his shoes, had me imagining his reaction to my anthology of half hearted and unconvincing breakup songs. ‘I’m over you’, they said, taunting him, with very little conviction; they were desperate, bitter, translucent. ‘I still love you’, they said in a smaller voice; ‘I’m sorry’. 

Part of the reason for wanting to talk to him is wanting to know exactly what he thought about my songs. He was clearly more mature and controlled than I am, able to listen (I know he listened) and not send me some cryptic message, confront me about my lyrics. We don’t address the obvious at first, though, we are being as civil as we can be. Impatient as I am, I want to call him, hear his voice, let him hear mine, pretend we’re both okay but know we aren’t. Back against the headboard of this stupid bed where we spent so much wasted time, I exhale, staring at my last message, waiting to see if he’ll call. None of the time was wasted. I took it all for granted. Didn’t realise what I had, or did, and didn’t value it like I should. Pride allowing, I want to apologise. Maybe then we can move on. 

Startled by my phone ringing out of my wistful daze, I immediately and clumsily answer, bringing it up to my ear with a hurried inhale. My mouth is open and I’m about to speak but he beats me to it. [i]Thank you.[/i] For what? Brow furrowing in confusion and a little bit of self hatred, I search through memories for anything I have done recently that would be deserving of his gratitude. Nothing. In reflection of our relationship, he always deserved better than me. [i]I was nervous about it. The song.[/i] A pause as I close my eyes, play it through my head briefly. [i]You taught me not to fear the dark.[/i] Even after I’d ruined us, he thought highly of me. [i]Reaching out in the night for you, baby.[/i] I suck in through my teeth as quietly as possible. [i]Thank you for listening.[/i] [b]“Of course,”[/b] Is the first thing I say, blurt it out. [b]“Of course, always.”[/b]

I think of how I dressed up the story of our relationship in [i]Memories[/i] as a tale of a religious defector and some young girl that fell apart when they misjudged the strength that young love held. In many ways it’s nothing like us at all, but the chorus kind of speaks for itself. How I miss yesterday. I purse my lips and sigh. [i]I heard your album, too. It was indescribable, Brendon. I don’t think I told you that.[/i] He sounds quiet, and somehow, even though I knew he had, the confirmation rattles me to my core. He heard [i]Always[/i], a song I wrote before I was even thinking of breaking us up. The idea makes me shudder. [b]“I plead the fifth on all of it,”[/b] I say lightly, a hint of laughter, running my hand through my hair. Another goddamn song reference, but it’s a bonus track. Wonder if he heard those too. 

[b]“Is ‘indescribable’ a good thing?”[/b] I ask, letting my body slide down the headboard of the bed as I settle more into the sheets. Biting my lip, I remember my goal of apologising. [b]”I’m sorry.”[/b] My voice is soft and wavering. [b]“For- well. For a lot of things. For writing about you so much.”[/b] All I can do is be honest, and I turn on my side, staring at the door to the bedroom. [b]“Hey, Ryan. Guess where I am.”[/b] I’m smiling, despite it all. Like this is some inside joke.