We Were Blue // Completed

35//

"Real love doesn't meet you at your best. It meets you in your mess."

-J.S. Park

* * *

Anger.

It's such a simple emotion, or at least it feels like it's supposed to be. Yet emotions are never as simple as they outwardly appear. No, if anything they're terribly complex, with a million different explanations and possibilities about what is truly going on under the surface. Perhaps anger may even be the most complex, because it's the only one used to cover up all the true emotions in our hearts.

Roman's anger is calm and all too silent, leaving me thinking that maybe this is right before the storm and chaos is on it's way. It leaves me curious about what's going on under the surface, if the anger is slowly rotting away and becoming more fatal with every passing second. Mine on the other hand is loud and fierce and all too fiery to possibly be safe. It's abrupt, without any secret to what's actually happening deep inside me.

I want him to scream at me, tell me why he's mad. Instead he keeps silent, barely having uttered two words to me since last night and it drives me fucking insane. The not knowing, the half-ass responses that don't give enough to go off of yet at the same time aren't lies, everything he does is aggravating and confusing and leaves me wondering, but then again maybe that's why he's doing it.

The music pounds, causing the mirrors to vibrate with the bass and my head to crack with pain. It's canceling, of everything- thoughts, feelings, pain and maybe in his case me, that's the whole point of music so loud, yet does it truly work? Is he able to convince himself I'm not here, that everything that has happened is nothing?

I doubt it, I wouldn't be able to. A rough sigh escapes my lips, "Can you please remove the stick shoved up your ass and stop acting so cold toward me?" No response follows, in fact he doesn't even spare me a single glance. I grit my teeth as I observe my surroundings, we entered Oregon about an hour ago but Grams house is furthest south- on the edge of the ocean and hiding within the trees. 

"Shit Roman I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell I did but it must be pretty bad for you to be this pissed, so I'm sorry." There's another long period of silence and my heart sinks because he's just going to ignore me again. But finally he gives me a glimpse of his ice blue and it at least feels like a start because he hasn't looked at me in the eye since yesterday. 

We come to a halt behind a shiny black SUV, the kind you see in FBI shows carrying around agents from place to place. A long line of vehicles stand still before ours, leaving us without the distraction of driving to keep Roman from answering me. He rolls down his window and sticks his hand out allowing a breeze of semi-warm air to travel into the car. 

Breathing in deeply I swear I can smell the salt dancing in the air despite the fact we're still a long while away from the ocean. "I'm sorry for being such a dick." We slowly inch forward.

"Why were you so mad?" 

He doesn't miss a beat. "Doesn't matter." He states it so firmly yet nonchalantly that I almost believe him but if it were the truth none of this would've happened in the first place. Pursing my lips, I don't push the subject further. 

The city dances in the horizon, and my body aches to escape this car and explore it's little corners and gems. Life is everywhere, it buzzes with every car and every person we pass by, so much different than the vacant roads we've seen for hours. "How much longer?"

Roman gazes down at the screen of the GPS, his fingers tapping a beat against the steering wheel as the clocks turn in his head. He hums and looks back up. "Three, maybe four hours I'd say."