Getting Her Back (J)

I’d tried everything I could think of, from good food to abs to literally anything to get my Sky to leave her work. Since we’d gotten back from that stupid interview, it was like everything was in ‘completely awful’ mode. My food tasted bland no matter what I did, the bed endlessly uncomfortable. I knew Grace wasn’t doing any better, since every time I saw her was with drying tears on her cheek. It was like she was pressuring herself away from life.

Away from me.

It had to be my fault. She wasn’t exactly one-hundred percent when we left the area, but I could feel her rubbing my hand, and she only did that when her mind was doing that senses-grounding thing. Then my dumbass had punched the wall and she checked out in a way I’d never seen before.

Fuck, why had I done that when I knew she didn’t like loud noises? I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me… But what else could I do when my mom pulled a stunt like that? I had to be the biggest dumbass on the planet for thinking what she did was a one-time thing! And now Grace was avoiding me because I let my mother walk all over her!

No, that wasn’t true—and I knew that—but my mind didn’t listen to that. This was the thing that would make her realize she was way out of my league. Now that she knew I was this fucking pathetic, that I couldn’t even help her through hard times, she’d realize she was better off without me. The room blurred as I thought about what came next: the confrontation, the avoidant glances…

“Look, you’re sweet and all,” she says, “But I need someone who can support me, not stand there like an accessory when it really matters.”

“Sky,” I say, pleading with my eyes as much as my tone, “I’m really sorry. It just all happened so fast—”

She laughs, and I realize it’s at me, not with me. “Oh, my god. You’re seriously making excuses? You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

Everything is crashing down, but I can’t find any ledge to hold. My Gracie is leaving me, and I can’t—

When did the shelves get this dusty?

If my Sky couldn’t be coaxed, I would just have to force her out. Yet no matter how worried I was, I couldn’t bring myself to move as I stood outside her studio door. All I had to do was knock, damn it! Why the hell was my hand shaking over a fucking door?! I had no reason to be anxious, so I just needed to ignore it.

For her.

“Sky?” I said gently. “How’s it going?”

Like every time before, she said nothing, and I was forced to stand in the dark. The place was a mess of sugary drink bottles, a sea of sorrow—but what was she sad about? I had to get her to talk to me. How could I wake her up from… whatever this was?

“Dancer, you’ve been working for quite a while. It’s time for a break.”

She’s not typing anymore.

It wasn’t much, but it meant everything to me. It meant she was listening to me. Now all I had to do was keep that attention.

“I’m really worried about you,” I admitted. “You won’t come to bed, you barely eat, and when I do see you, it’s with tears you won’t let me take away from you. Please, Gracie, talk to me.”

I’d laid it all out for her, so I had to wait for her move. I could feel her thinking from here, considering my offer. I hoped with everything I had that she’d take it, because if I were honest? I didn’t want another week of us being familiar strangers, and I was going to get her out of here, no matter what it took. But all those thoughts turned to ash as her shoulders started shaking.

“I really have to work, Jasper.” Her voice was trembling. Why was her voice trembling?

What have I done?

“Sky, I’m sorry.”

I rushed to her side, ignoring the soda bottles in my path. I turned her chair and pure terror filled me faster than her eyes with tears. I tried to meet her gaze, but it looked so cloudy. It was like she wasn’t even here. What horrors had I reminded her of with my stupid comments? How could I fix this?!

“Gracie,” I said gently, “Where are you, right now?”

“I’m alone,” she sobbed.

“No, you’re not,” I assured her. “I’m here with you.”

“You won’t be. Not forever.” What was she talking about? “You’re going to leave me, too.”

“No, never,” I told her. “I’m right here, baby. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” She was hysterical now. “I’m going to be working one day, you’ll come in, and you’ll tell me it’s too much for you! Or you’ll look at me and realize you can do so much better than a broken murderer like me!”

Murderer?

My Sky couldn’t kill a bug without feeling immense guilt. It was one of the most adorable things about her: she could be jump-scared by a spider, kill it, then bow her head in respectful silence for him a minute later. What could have possibly happened to make her think that badly of herself? I ran through the bits she had told me of her life. It had to have something to do with her mother. I didn’t know the details, but I knew she had been stuck with the woman until something had happened. Something with. . .

Mittens.

“I have to go back to work, Jasper,” she insisted. “Before it goes away.”

“Before what goes away?” Did I really want the answer?

“The pain.”

Gracie had shut herself away after being reminded of Mittens, and if my theory was correct, that shit went deep for her. But why would she want that feeling to last?

“Gracie,” I said slowly. “Why do you need the pain?”

“Because it helps me work!” She wasn’t looking at me again. “I have to work now so it feels deeper!”

She’d been using her agony to pierce her voice. My mind raced through the past with a new lens. Every time I’d been in awe of her passion, every time I had praised her for that emotion, had it all been at the expense of her own health? What could have possibly led to her doing anything like that?!

And why didn’t I notice it sooner?

“NO!” I knew I was shocking her with a yell, but she had to hear this. “Listen to me, Dancer: your pain does not make your music better. That agony is not the reason you’re an amazing singer—or person, for that matter. You’re awesome because you care, because you love your art. Are you going to let that love die so you can work yourself to death?”

She stifled. “N-no.”

“I can’t hear you, Sky.”

“No!” She repeated. “I don’t want to die.”

It was like the floodgates had opened. In slow-motion, my starry Sky lurched out of her chair, making the sound of a thousand nightmares as she cried in my arms. I was the most selfish person on the planet for loving the feeling of her head on my shoulders, finally depending on me for something. The warmth of her tears assured me that she was here with me, not locked away in some twisted fantasy. It felt like hours before she pulled back, but we were still silent for a while, merely staring at each other.

“What made you think this was a good idea?” I asked.

She smiled weakly. “‘Suffering builds character’, right?”

“Sky. . .”

I carried her bridal style from the room. My thoughts wandered as I made her something to eat, my eyes flicking to her every few minutes. I was convinced she would run back to that dark room, drinking her weight in soda to hide her hunger. Would I be able to stop her again if she did? Was I going to lose her forever?

No.

No, I wouldn’t lose my Sky to this. It was fine. I was fine.

Everything was fine.