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Apr. 25th, 2011 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
harshboldcharmHe left the apartment and the month's rent. The last thing he said to Johnny was a text one his weekend with Alice saying, 'Give her a hug for me.' After that? Radio silence. Wylie was crowded. He was feeling the pressures of what he'd have to live up to with a boyfriend who wanted to be serious - who could see something like falling in their future. There was a daughter to consider. There was hearts. There was everything that came with it. Wylie wasn't willing to put them through it.
Three weeks went by. He traveled with just a backpack of stuff. He'd left anything too big to carry on his bike in storage. He'd have to come back to town to get it, but he figured if he waited long enough, he could sneak into town and leave before anything could go wrong. But over those three weeks while he was out losing himself on the road, he was finding himself just as much.
If you asked him, he wouldn't be able to tell you how he ended up back at the apartment building that housed Johnny's place. It had been raining, the leather jacket he wore not enough to shield him from the elements. As he stood outside his door, eyes fixated on the number beside it while he blanked out. Why he was there, he'd never be able to answer. He should have kept going. He should have left it all behind. But now he was standing there, dripping wet and soaked through, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He knocked, not caring that it was easily past midnight.
Three weeks went by. He traveled with just a backpack of stuff. He'd left anything too big to carry on his bike in storage. He'd have to come back to town to get it, but he figured if he waited long enough, he could sneak into town and leave before anything could go wrong. But over those three weeks while he was out losing himself on the road, he was finding himself just as much.
If you asked him, he wouldn't be able to tell you how he ended up back at the apartment building that housed Johnny's place. It had been raining, the leather jacket he wore not enough to shield him from the elements. As he stood outside his door, eyes fixated on the number beside it while he blanked out. Why he was there, he'd never be able to answer. He should have kept going. He should have left it all behind. But now he was standing there, dripping wet and soaked through, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He knocked, not caring that it was easily past midnight.