by Tillie Cole
And I felt my heart shatter as I moved my eyes to the boy who sat by her side. As if feeling the heavy weight of my stare, he looked up. His hand stopped, drink halfway to his mouth.
Tears filled my eyes.
Understanding Rune would have moved on from me was hard enough to bear; seeing him like this brought another level of pain that I never ever thought was possible.
“Poppy? Are you okay?” Ruby’s concerned voice suddenly rang across the room, forcing me to break away from the car crash I was witnessing.
Forcing a smile toward Ruby, I whispered, “Yes. I’m fine.”
Feeling my legs shake from the unwanted attention of everyone in the room, I managed to step away toward the door. But as I did, I saw Avery turn in toward Rune.
Turn in for a kiss.
As the final part of my heart broke, I turned and fled the room before I could witness that kiss. I pushed into the hallway and ran to the nearest room I could find. Frantically turning the handle, I pushed through into the semi-darkness of a laundry room.
I slammed the door and leaned against the washer, unable to keep myself from bending at the waist and letting the tears pour. I fought back the sickness rising up my throat as I desperately fought to wipe the offensive image from my head.
During these past two years, I thought I’d endured all facets of pain. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. Because nothing could compare with the pain of seeing the one you love in the arms of another.
Nothing could compare to a promised lip’s betrayal of a kiss.
My hands clutched at my stomach. As I fought to drag in a much-needed breath, the handle of the door began to turn.
“Don’t! Go away—” I had started to shout, but before I could turn and force the door shut, someone pushed through, slamming the door in their wake.
My heart raced when I realized I was trapped in this room with someone else. But when I turned around and saw who had entered, all the blood drained from my face. I staggered back until my back hit the wall beside the washer.
The flames from the fire pit outside illuminated the dark room, enough that I could clearly see who had invaded my moment of weakness.
The same boy who caused it.
Rune stood before me, beside the closed door. Reaching out, he flipped the lock. I swallowed as his face turned back to look at me. His jaw was tense and his blue eyes were firmly fixed on me. His stare was ice-cold.
My mouth went dry. Rune took a step forward, his tall, broad body closing in on me. The pounding of my heart swept the blood through my veins, its heady sound roaring in my ears.
As he approached, my eyes lowered to take in Rune’s mostly bare arms: his toned, lean muscles were corded by the tension from his balled fists, the black t-shirt showcased his firm torso, his smooth skin still retained the tint of a fading tan. In the signature move that always brought me to my knees, he lifted a hand and raked back his hair from his face.
Swallowing hard, I tried to find the courage to push past him and run away. But Rune walked forward until there was no way out for me—I was trapped.
My eyes were wide as he focused on me. Rune moved forward until we were merely inches apart. This close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. This close, I could smell his cool scent: the one that always brought me comfort, the one that took me back to lazy summer days spent in the blossom grove. The one that brought back, in full Technicolor, that final night, when we’d made love.
I felt my cheeks flood with heat as he leaned in close. I smelled the faint hint of tobacco on his clothes, and a trace of spearmint on his warm breath. My fingers twitched at my sides as I gazed at the stubble on his jaw and chin. I wanted to reach out and touch it. Truthfully, I yearned to raise my hand and run a finger over his forehead, down his cheeks, and across his perfect lips.
But as soon as I thought of those lips, the pain sliced back through my heart. I turned my head, closing my eyes. He had touched Avery with those lips.
He had broken me by giving away those lips—those lips were supposed to be mine forever.
I felt him close in, until our chests almost brushed. I felt his arms rise over my head, landing on the wall above me, crowding every inch of my personal space. And I felt strands of his long hair drift across my cheek.
Rune’s breathing was labored, his minty breath ghosting across my face. I squeezed my eyes even tighter. I felt him so impossibly close. But it was no use; of their own accord and ruled by my heart, my eyes slowly opened and I turned my head, our gazes crashing together.
My breath caught in my throat as the shadows from the fire outside flickered over his face. Then my breathing seemed to stop entirely when one of his hands moved from above my head, traveling hesitantly down to stroke over my hair. As soon as I felt him take a strand between his fingers, shivers broke out over my body and butterflies swooped around my stomach.
I sensed he wasn’t faring any better; deep exhales and the tensing of his jaw were clear giveaways. I stared at his handsome face as he studied mine, both of us taking in the effects of the last two years: the changes, yet better still, the aspects that were completely familiar.
Then, when I wasn’t sure my confused heart could take any more, his gentle touch left the safety of my hair to drift onto my face, and pass feather-light fingers over the apples of my cheeks. His fingers stopped, as he whispered one word, one emotionally packed word, in the most painfully desperate, graveled voice…: “Poppymin.”
A teardrop escaped from my eye and splashed onto his hand.
Poppymin.
Rune’s perfect name for me.
My Poppy.
His girl.
For infinity.
Forever always.
A lump clawed its rapid way up my throat as that sweet word sailed into my ears, piercing my soul. I tried in earnest to chase it down to join the rest of the pain of the last two years, but overpowered and totally defeated, I could not, and a long-caged sob slipped out.
With Rune so close, I never stood a chance.
As the loud cry escaped my lips, Rune’s eyes lost their coldness and softened to shine with unshed tears. His head tipped forward, and he pressed his forehead to mine, bringing his fingers down to press over my lips.
I breathed.
He breathed.
And, against my better judgment, I let myself pretend that the last two years had never happened. I let myself pretend that he hadn’t moved away. That I hadn’t had to move too. That all the pain and the suffering had never been felt. And the bottomless black void that had replaced my heart was filled with light—the brightest light possible.
Rune’s love. His touch and his kisses.
But this wasn’t our reality. Someone banged at the laundry room door, and reality came crashing back, like a storm-whipped wave dropping on to a rain-lashed beach.
“Rune? Are you in there?” a female voice called, a voice I recognized as Avery’s.
Rune’s eyes flew open as Avery’s knocking grew louder. He immediately drew back, watching me. Lifting my hand, I wiped at my tears. “Please … just let me go.”
I tried to sound confident. I wanted to say more. But I had nothing left within me. No strength to keep up this pretense.
I was hurt.
It was written on my face for all to see.
Placing my hand on Rune’s hard chest, I pushed him away, needing to get out. He let me move him from my path, only to grip my hand in his just before I reached the door. I closed my eyes, trying to gather the strength to turn to him again. When I did, more tears fell.
Rune was staring at our joined hands, his long dark-blond lashes almost black with restrained tears.
“Rune,” I whispered. His eyes snapped up at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I begged, as Avery knocked again.
He held on tighter.
“Rune?” Avery called, louder. “I know you’re in there.”
I took a step closer to Rune. He watched my every move with a deep intensity. As I r
eached his chest, I looked up, allowing his hand to keep its hold on mine. I met his eyes, recognizing the confusion on his face, and lifted up onto my tiptoes.
I brought my free hand to his mouth and ran the pads of my fingers over his full bottom lip. I smiled with sadness, remembering how they felt pressed against mine. I traced his defined cupid’s bow, letting the tears fall as I said, “It killed me when I cut you off, Rune. It killed me not knowing what you were doing on the other side of the Atlantic.” I inhaled shakily. “But nothing has ever hurt me like seeing you kiss that girl.”
Rune paled, his cheeks becoming ashen. I shook my head. “I have no right to be jealous. This is all my fault. Everything, I know that. Yet I’m so jealous, so hurt, that I feel like I could die from this pain.” I lowered my hand from his mouth. Looking up at him, begging with my eyes, I added, “So, please … please let me go. I can’t be here, not right now.”
Rune didn’t move. I could see the shock on his face. Using this to my advantage, I pulled my hand from his and immediately unlocked the door. Without looking back or taking time to pause, I burst through, pushing past Avery who was waiting, angrily, in the hallway.
And I ran. I ran past Ruby and Jorie, past Deacon and Judson, who had all gathered in the hallway to watch the unfolding drama. I ran through the many students drunk on their feet. I ran until I burst out the door into the cool night air. And then I ran again. I simply ran as fast as I could, as far away from Rune as I could manage.
“Rune!” I heard a high-pitched voice shrill in the distance, followed by a male voice, which added, “Where’re you going, man? Rune!” But I didn’t let it deter me. Taking a sharp right, I saw the entrance to the park. It was dark, and the park wasn’t well-lit, but it was the shortcut home.
Right now I’d give anything to be home.
The gate was open. I let my feet lead the way over the dark tree-lined path, carrying me deeper into the center of the park.
My breathing was labored. My feet hurt as the soles pounded the hard asphalt through my ballet flats. I turned left, heading for the blossom grove, when I heard footsteps behind me.
Suddenly frightened, I turned my head. Rune was sprinting after me. My heart raced faster, but this time it had nothing to do with exertion, and everything to do with that look of determination on Rune’s face. Rapidly, Rune was gaining on me.
I ran for a few more yards, then I realized it was no use. As I entered the blossom grove, a place I knew so well—a place he knew so well—I slowed to a walk, finally bringing myself to a complete stop.
A moment later, I heard Rune enter the grove of empty trees. I heard his hard breath hammering the cool air.
I felt him move behind me.
Slowly, I spun on my heel and faced Rune. Both hands were in his hair, gripping the strands. His blue eyes were haunted, tortured. The air around us crackled with tension as we stared at one another, in silence, chests heaving, cheeks flushed.
Then Rune’s gaze dropped to my lips and he inched forward. He took two steps and bit out a single, harsh question: “Why?”
He ground his teeth together as he waited for my answer. I dropped my gaze, tears filling my eyes. I shook my head, and begged, “Please … don’t…”
Rune ran his hand down his face. That stubborn expression I knew so well spread across his features. “No! God, Poppy. Why? Why did you do it?”
I was momentarily distracted by the thickness of his accent, a raspier husk in his already low, graveled voice. As a child, over the years here his Norwegian accent had diminished some. But now, his English was overlain by a heavy Nordic edge. It reminded me of the day we met outside his house, aged five.
But as I saw his face redden with anger, I was quickly reminded that right now that didn’t matter. We weren’t five anymore. Nothing was innocent. Too much had happened.
And I still couldn’t tell him.
“Poppy,” he insisted, his voice rising in volume, as he stepped even closer. “Why the hell did you do it? Why did you never call me back? Why did you all move? Where the hell have you been? What the hell happened?”
Rune began to pace, his muscles bunching under his t-shirt. A cold wind blew through the grove and he raked back his hair. Stopping dead, he faced me and spat out, “You promised. You promised me that you’d wait for me to come back. Everything was fine, until one day I called and you didn’t answer. I called and I called, but you never replied. Not a text, nothing!”
He moved until his booted feet were right against mine, towering over me. “Tell me! Tell me right now.” His skin was mottled with the redness born of his anger. “I deserve to goddamn know!”
I flinched at the aggression in his voice. Flinched at the venom in his words. Flinched at the stranger standing before me.
The old Rune would never have spoken to me like this. But then I reminded myself this wasn’t the Rune of old.
“I-I can’t,” I stuttered, barely above a whisper. Lifting my eyes, I saw the incredulous look on his face. “Please, Rune,” I begged, “Don’t push this. Just leave it.” I swallowed, then forced myself to say, “Leave us … leave us in the past. We should move on.”
Rune’s head snapped back as though I had punched him.
Then he laughed. He laughed, but the sound held no humor. It was laced with fury, coated with rage.
Rune stepped one pace backward. His hands shook at his sides and he laughed one more time. Icily, he demanded, “Tell me.”
I shook my head, trying to protest. He lifted his hands to his hair in frustration. “Tell me,” he repeated. His voice had lowered an octave and radiated menace.
This time I didn’t shake my head. Sadness had rendered me motionless. Sadness at seeing Rune like this. He was always quiet and withdrawn. His mamma had told me on more than one occasion that Rune had always been a sullen child. She had always feared he would give her trouble. She had told me that his innate predisposition had been to snap at people and to keep himself to himself. Even as a child she noticed an air of moodiness about him, his inclination to be negative instead of positive.
But then he found you, she said. He found you. You taught him, through your words and actions, that life didn’t always have to be so serious. That life was to be lived. That life was one great adventure, to be lived well and to the full.
His mamma had been right all along.
I realized, as I watched the darkness exude from this boy, that this was the Rune Mrs. Kristiansen had expected—no, feared—he would become. This was the innate moodiness she knew was harbored below the surface of her son.
A predilection to darkness, not light.
Staying quiet, I decided to turn away. To leave Rune alone with his rage.
Moonbeam hearts and sunshine smiles. I ran my mamaw’s mantra through my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to repel the pain trying to flood in. Tried to stave off this ache in my chest, the ache that told me what I didn’t want to believe.
That I had done this to Rune.
I made to move forward, to leave, self-preservation seizing control. As I did, I felt desperate fingers wrap around my wrist and spin me back around.
Rune’s pupils had all but consumed his crystal-blue irises. “No! Stand right here. Stand right here and tell me.” He took in a long breath, and, losing all control, he shouted, “Tell me why the hell you left me all alone!”
This time, his anger was unbounded. This time, his hard words contained the force of a slap to the face. The blossom grove before me blurred; it took me a while to realize that it was my tears clouding my vision.
A tear fell to my cheek. Rune’s dark gaze didn’t waver.
“Who are you?” I whispered. I shook my head as Rune continued to stare, a slight tightening at the corner of his eyes the only evidence that my words had any effect. “Who are you right now?” I glanced down at his fingers, still around my wrist. Feeling my throat close, I said, “Where is the boy I love?” Risking one more look at his face, I whispered, “Where i
s my Rune?”
Suddenly, Rune ripped his fingers from my arm as though my skin was scalding to the touch. A nasty laugh spilled from his lips as he stared me down. His hand lifted to delicately smooth down my hair—a contradictory softness in the gesture compared to the venom with which he spoke. “You want to know where that boy went?” I swallowed as he searched every part of my face—every feature but my eyes. “You want to know where your Rune went?” His lip curled in disgust. As if my Rune was someone unworthy. As if my Rune wasn’t worth all the love that I had for him.
Leaning in, he met my eyes, his stare so severe that shivers darted down my spine. Harshly, he whispered, “That Rune died when you left him all alone.” I tried to turn away, but Rune jumped in my path, making it impossible to escape his scathing cruelty. I dragged in a hurt breath, but Rune wasn’t done. I could see in his eyes that he was far from done.
“I waited for you,” he said. “I waited and waited for you to call, to explain. I called everyone I knew back here, trying to find you. But you’d vanished. Gone to care for some sick aunt I know doesn’t exist. Your daddy wouldn’t talk to me when I tried; you all blocked me out.” His lips tightened as he relived the pain. I saw it. I saw it in his every move, his every word; he had been transported back to that painful place.
“I told myself to be patient, that you would explain everything in time. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, I stopped waiting with hope. Instead, I let in the pain. I let in the darkness that you created. As a year came and went, and my letters and messages went unanswered, I let the pain take hold of me until there was nothing left of the old Rune. Because I couldn’t look in the mirror one more day, couldn’t walk in the shoes of that Rune for one more damn day. Because that was the Rune that had you. That Rune was the Rune that had Poppymin. That Rune was the one with a full heart. Your half and mine. But your half abandoned me. It left, and allowed what I have now to take root. Darkness. Pain. A shitload of anger.”
Rune leaned in until his breath washed over my face. “You made me like this, Poppy. The Rune you knew died when you turned into a bitch and broke every promise you ever made.”
