Unsightly toxin

"Idiot Eli."

"You're better than this."

"How could you let such a dumb thing taint you?"

Those thoughts filled my head during the whole trip back home.

I should've stayed in the hotel, but the idea of facing him after that made my head throb. I needed distance—because deep down, I knew this wasn't just his fault.

I didn't realize I lost my phone until the train doors slid shut and I reached for it, hoping for a distraction. In my shock, I muttered a word that should never leave my lips.

Getting it back became my top priority—it was imperative for my work. At the next stop, I jumped off the train, sprinted to the nearest phone booth and dialed my number.

…

…

…

"Hello? Who is this?"

Hearing Elian again stirred up a bittersweet taste. I thought about hanging up. Maybe I should have. We both needed time—but once again, I was too blind to see it.

More than my own discomfort—more than what might've been better for us—being unreachable to my agent was unacceptable.

So I gripped the phone and acted as if our last encounter never happened.

"Eli, it's me. I… kinda need my phone back, urgently."

At first, there was silence—about as long as it took me to respond. And then…

"I know. I'm on my way. Let's meet at your place."

◦∘♡————————∘◦❀◦∘————————♡∘◦

The buzzer rang about twenty minutes after I got home. I barely had time to take a breather—to prepare mentally.

"It's fine." I thought. "Let's use this chance to make things right."

After I pressed the button to let him in, I stared at the door, heart pounding over nothing more than a silly argument. I wasn't dressed to impress—casual home clothes, nothing worth describing. When he came in, I was surprised to see Eli looked just as unkept.

And that surprise soon began to crawl under my skin. His appearance threw me off so much I didn't respond when he handed me the phone—only when he spoke.

"Can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure." He stepped inside before I could move aside and sat at the dinner table. Silence hung between us, his glare heavy on me as he waited for me to sit.

Slowly, I dragged my feet to the other chair, desperately gathering my thoughts along the way.

I even considered starting with an apology, but quickly dismissed the idea. Why should I have to apologize for what happened back then?

"Do you have anything to say to me, Dalia?"

Pride is such an unsightly toxin…

"What do you mean, Elian? If anything you should start with an apology."

"Is that so…?" He lowered his head, and his next works cut straight to my gut. "Dalia, do you even love me?"

What!?

"What!? Of course I do, Elian! And it offends me that you would ever ask something so—"

"And you still have nothing to tell me."

"Ugh. Fine, fine. I'm going to be the adult here. Sorry for the look I gave you, I admit it was full of my worst intentions, and I'm also sorry for leaving without notice. Happy? Now say your part so we can properly wrap this up."

Entitlement is one of the most twisted corruptions a person can fall prey to. It can turn anyone into the ugliest, most repulsive version of themselves. In that moment, we both felt entitled to something that we weren't getting.

"How do you expect me to believe you when all you do is talk?"

"Will you stop behaving like a child and say you're sorry for how you acted?"

Elian's voice was also rising now. "So I'm the child? You're always the one—"

"You're supposed to be better than this, Elian."

"But you're always the one who—"

"Tell me what on Mother Earth makes you doubt my feelings for you?"

He struck the table. "Because you still haven't said a word about your plan to leave to work abroad!"

"Huh? H-how did you—?"

"Were you even going to tell me about it?"

"I-I…"

"Were you?"

"O-of course I was. I was going to tell you today, but—"

"And then break up with me?"

"What!? Of course n—"

"You were going to break up!"

"I was not! Where did you even get that idea!?"

"If you really loved me you would've refused such a stupid offer!"

"How can you even say that!? You are aware I cannot do such a thing!"

"So what was your plan? Leave but keep in contact? I could never deal with a long distance relationship."

"Stop making up—"

"The fact that you thought you could means you just don't love me enough to actually miss me."

"You're not making any fucking sense!"

"I'm sick and tired of you never reciprocating my feelings."

"Always acting like such a needy brat!"

"I give my everything to you, I—"

"When are you going to grow up!?"

"There you go again with that condescending tone, like you're better than me and—"

"Stop acting as if I'm in the wrong. Work. Before. Fucking. Play."

"Fuck the work. Just admit—"

"No, no. There's no—'"

"Just admit you don't want my love!"

...

That one sewed my mouth for a moment—I realized there was some truth to it.

"Admit you just want my admiration." Among panting and sobbing, Eli was also slowing down. "No, anyone's will suffice." He hit the table again. "You only want your ego to be stroked!"

My response was to flip the table.

The rest of the conversation spiraled into nonsense. I don't remember what else Eli said, and I doubt he recalls my words either. We were each so caught up in dumb accusations and shouting we never glimpsed what the other was really feeling—or how we were both to blame.

I feel a bitter laugh bubbling up anytime I think about it. We were just two clowns, furious at our own reflections.

At some point, Eli left—or maybe I kicked him out. Doesn't really matter.

What matters is that I clearly remember his tear-filled eyes, blurred beneath my own.

…

We stopped talking.