Audrey sat up and held herself, staring at the window once more. She leaned back, ordering Alexa to play one of her favorite songs. She sat in silence, somewhat shouting the theatric, melancholy scene she'd created for herself. Her phone glowed alerting her to a notification. She looked over at it, laying back with a heavy sigh. Everyone was quiet, no doubt getting ready for early classes. A few people roamed, drunk, stumbling toward their dorms.

She stood, shuffling toward her drawer, pulling out a cigarette. She'd liked to have said it was a metaphor, like that one guy from Fault in Our Stars. That she was better than that, but she wasn't. She wasn't better than anything. And somewhere inside she sometimes wished, she would light it, and her tired heart would stop, and she wouldn't have these late night thoughts anymore. But it hadn't happened yet, so she lit it up, letting it rest between her fingers, contemplating how bad it was for her already broken heart.

Wasn't it ironic she was born with a broken heart?

It was apt, after all, that she was born fractured. Finally, she put the cigarette to her lips, wincing as it mad contact, mucking her lungs, swaddling the room.

Someone's going to catch feelings. His words echoed in her ears. Were they genuine? Of course not. Alexander was a coward who just wanted to sleep well at night. Everything he did was performative, a little play he wrote for himself, so he could rest in his decency. Though she understood that, the beckoning wind, whispering in her ear: somebody just couldn't be ignored.

He was somebody.

Somebody.

At least she wasn't completely alone right? Even if his touch was empty even if all that was between then was a debt, even though she was just his pet project, guaranteed to be discarded...she had someone for a moment.

The night passed. The day blurred. And he was there again. Waiting as she came from his class. The desperate violence called love had surrounded her her whole life. He rolled his window down, a careless smirk on his face, the wind ruffling his hair.

"Gotta puppy in the back, you wanna see?"

She rolled her eyes, getting in. Alexander looked over at her, noting her silent demeanor.

It took her ages to realize she'd been standing alone, to be truthful. At first, she had her father, and though he didn't treat her well, he didn't treat her so badly that she couldn't delude herself into thinking he loved her.

"Hey?" He elbowed her. "You okay?"

She nodded, leaning on her hand. Watching the center blur. She had half a mind to ask him to start the night. It would backfire though, wouldn't it? Leaving her empty.

He slowed to a stop, and pulled over, stopping at a chili's parking lot. He sat there for a moment, his brows furrowed. Audrey was silent, not really having anything to say.

"I've realized, you're fairly young, and may not know much about hookup etiquette."

He opened the glove compartment. "There's a clean bill of health, and plan B."

Audrey rolled her eyes, something like shame settling under her skin. "Yeah whatever," she grumbled.

He was quiet. "I know this is...odd and probably a little embarrassing. But I need to see you take it."

Audrey stared at him in pure disbelief but sighed, relenting, scratching the water bottle from his hand and downing the pill. It settled in her stomach with discontented swirl of nausea.

It was clear he saw her some needy, unhinged, desperate kind of person, strung out on abandonment issues so desperate she'd try to conceive his child which only served to worsen her mood. Silence was a festering sore between them, and was usually filled with quips and insults.

He'd expected a witty retort. As if you're young enough to get me pregnant, or something just as ferocious.

Instead, Alexander was presented with defeated silence. His brow dipped in concern. "Audrey? You sure you're alright?"

Audrey rolled her eyes, looking away. "I took the pill. Just take me home."

He nodded and started turn car, occasionally looking over at her finding her silence disheartening.

"It's not a personal thing I just...I do it for everyone. Not that I you know —I just —" he sighed. "Better safe than sorry, you get that don't you?"

Audrey said nothing. He rolled his eyes. "Very mature. The silent treatment, huh?"

Alexander was more than uneasy about this silence, and scent of cigarette that wafted around her. A new boyfriend maybe? He shifted, stopping outside her apartment. She would've told him, wouldn't she? If she'd been sneaking someone in?

Audrey got out of the car, beginning her journey up the stairs. Alexander followed her, locking his car with a chirp.

"You're just so quiet, I'm almost convinced you're dead," he chuckled, following after her as she opened the door. The air was thick with the scent of cigarettes.

"So who is he?" Alexander prodded, sitting on the couch, looking around for evidence of the mystery man.

Audrey sighed, lighting up, and looking out the window. Started, Alexander jumped up, snatching the cancer stuck from her fingers and stubbing it out.

"You know how bad these are for you don't you?" He chastised her. "Not just in general. For you, specifically, you Audrey Williams with a weak heart."

Audrey pursed her lips. "Not as bad your presence," she spat, somewhat weakly. "Fuck off, Steel."

Alexander looked away. "Audrey..."

Audrey sighed, standing and straying into her bedroom, laying down, closing her eyes. He laid next to her, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm worried about you, say something. Something mean and heartless. You could make fun of my age, or my hair, or my suit or the way my mother doesn't love me," he asked, turning over and smiling.

Audrey stared at him and sighed. "I'm really tired, Steel. Leave now."

It was clear to Alexander that she needed something. Something more than he could give her of course, what wasn't? Money and sex was all he had to offer, after all. He leaned over, kissing her softly.

A million questions swirled in his mind. Should he take her to the doctor? Was it her heart? Was her class work? What had made her so sullen? But he didn't. He thought it cruel too pretend he'd more to give, that there was more to him, even something she could count on.

Audrey accepted his kiss stiffly, slowly melting in his arms. She wondered how long she would keep doing this? If she could stop. After all, he did pay for her life. Literally.

He really had been right huh? She felt him sucking away her youth as she spent it on him and his desires. Not that he didn't make her feel good, he did. He was experienced, he he used that experience, quickly ascertaining what she liked and didn't before she could even tell. Still, there was an emptiness in his touch and in his eyes.

Still, it was better than nothing, so she accepted it. Their bodies intertwined, but Audrey was still somewhat cold, no matter what Alexander tried to do. In the end, he lay beside her, the air conditioning kicking on, drumming in the background.

"You seem...not yourself," he murmured.

Audrey remembered a documentary she'd once watched on babies that had been born addicted to drugs and alcohol. How they would cry, and cry, but nothing could sate them or console them. They needed something, and they didn't exactly know what it was, but they knew no one had given it to them.

That they'd had it, and now it was gone, and unable to communicate it, or name it, never even knowing where it had come from, all they could do was cry desperately and aimlessly.

She felt like that. There was something she was searching for, something she was sure she had, once upon a time, somewhere, and she needed it back. But not knowing what it was, all she could do was stew in her discontent.

Alexander sighed, and stood, dressing.

"Am I the only woman you're sleeping with?" She asked softly from under her sheets.

He wasn't. But he didn't want her to think monogamy was in the table, or that it was something deeper than it was.

"No," he said quietly, watching her reaction.

Her face was still. "Okay."

And that was that. He hedged by the bedroom door. "Audrey..."

He heaved a sigh, and she turned over. He left, quietly cursing himself for ever letting himself be talked into this arrangement in the first place.