"You're psychotic." But the oddly calm way that the words fell from his lips betrayed him, for even in the heat of the moment he was still trying to convince himself that he hated her.
Still, she stood in the doorway with a sly smile forming on the edges of her lips. She bit her lip and averted her eyes. She remained motionless and languid, her long and taut body stretched out beautifully, and she put her wrist over up to her head and scratched the itch both of them knew didn't exist.
"You need to leave now." She repeated once more, gesturing towards the door with the slightest flick of her head, causing her hair to spill in her face and help her hide. "It's for the best."
Swiftly and silently he snatched his jacket up from the floor and clutched it tightly in his hands, knuckles white from the grip on reality he was trying to grasp. He scuffed himself into his shoes with their already-broken backs (as though this was not the first time he'd been kicked out of the flat of a supposed lover) and placed his hand on the doorknob. Before he turned it, he spun his body to face hers, unmoving and unrelenting, and whispered but one last phrase:
"I really do love you, Casey."
The click of the doorknob resonated throughout the silence that only two AM seems to emanate, and at that moment Casey let her guard down and reveled in her isolation. She let her body slide down the door frame and to the hardwood floor as she held her face in her hands. The strangest part of all of it was that there were no tears. No tears for him or for the men before him.
Casey Evans stared out the window at just the right moment in time and saw the first shooting star she had seen since the age of thirteen, and suddenly with a cold realization, knew that without him she hadn't a single thing to wish for anymore. For the second time in her life, she felt a dull ache and hollow feeling permeating from her chest. Somehow, she'd managed to break her own heart in this same old familiar process.