A/N: Experimental drabble.

There's a lot I want to say to you; but there's a lot that I don't know how to say.

Sometimes, I like you. Sometimes, I hate you. Sometimes, I want to hold you. Sometimes, I just want to strangle and beat you until you can't breathe. Sometimes, I love you so much it hurts. And sometimes, I hate you so much it doesn't even faze me. But most of the time, I just want to be near you and listen to the rhythm of your heart beat.

Life is messy, you said to me one day.

So is our relationship, I wanted to say back, But that hasn't stopped us from trying.

We sit on the roof of our house and watch the cars speed by under the street lights. Sometimes, we can see a star; but most of the time, the sky is black. You always said the air smelled like gasoline, but to me, it smelled like the sweet scent of honeysuckle and cherry pie. You said you hated it. I told you I loved it but I was lying.

"I love you," you told me.

I believed you but somehow the words disappear in an instant. And I forget.

We're sitting on the floor now, a bottle of half empty Jack Daniels in between us. I press my lips to your kneecap and you smile and breathe smoke circles around my head. This is the aftermath of what happens most the time.

"It doesn't get any better," you said.

It's true.

Now, I'm pressed up against the wall. You're holding your fist so close to me face I can feel my blood boil. But I don't flinch because I know you're not that kind of person. You breathe out and I find myself suddenly relieved. I want to believe; I want to believe in you so badly but somehow I can't. I close my eyes and pretend it's a dream.

"I'm sorry," you said.

You're not, though. And I don't believe you.

"I'm sorry," you said again.

I still don't believe you. But I smile and let it slide. "It's okay," I told you, "It's okay."

It's not.

I packed my bags this morning while you were asleep.

You don't stir. This isn't really much of a change. Or a stand.


"You're not leaving," you said.

I don't answer. But we both know anyway.

We're sitting on the roof again, watching the cars speed by. I see a star, you said, pointing up. I follow your gaze but all I see is an airplane. I smile anyway and let you keep believing.