Page 72 of Built to Fall
Ifeel myself tense when I find Lina jogging down the path beside the lake, her breath shallow, eyes distant—just as I suspected. The same way she’s looked every time I’ve found her running on campus, since she doesn’t know how to rest.
Because she can’t, and I know she can’t. I’ve seen firsthand where it lands her. It’s exactly why I’m out here. I can’t bear for that to happen again.
I tried to keep my distance, but it’s hard to ignore someone when you’ve seen the way they look when they’re not sleeping all that much. Like they’re drifting, slowly slipping away, and you can’t stop it.
It makes me angry, truthfully. Because I know how many times I’ve offered her an out. I’ve been to her apartment every night for the past week and a half. Every night she tells me she’s considering my offer, but she never really does.
Yet, something about the way she’s moving, like she doesn’t care that the night air is biting at her skin, makes me think that this is a reflex for her. In the same way that keeping her safe is one for me. I can’t let it go.
It’s nearing winter. She can’t keep this up much longer.
Running after her, my pace is steady, matching hers. She doesn’t see me coming until I’m a few steps away, but the moment her eyes meet mine, she stumbles, as though she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t be. But this isn’t something wrong. At least it wouldn’t be if she was doing it with the proper precautions—if she fucking slept.
She’s just tired—too tired. I can see it in the way her shoulders sag.
She slows down, breathing ragged, face flushed. “Grant,” she says, her voice thin, like she’s not sure she wanted to acknowledge me at all.
“You’re running again,” I say, pulling up beside her. “I figured as much.”
She gives me a quick, sharp glance. “I’m fine,” she snaps, trying to brush it off. “I needed to get out, okay?”
“Lina,” I say, my voice firm, knowing damn well she isn’t fine. “You need sleep, not more of this. You’re not going to fix anything by running until you pass out from exhaustion.”
“I’m not doing this with you, Grant. I can take care of myself.” She scoffs, shaking her head as she picks up the pace again.
“You can’t even sleep,” I point out, pushing ahead to fall in line beside her. “If you were really fine, you wouldn’t be out here at three a.m., running like your life depends on it. Whatever you’re running from, it’s not going to get fixed by avoidance.”
She doesn’t answer. Her lips press tightly together instead, and for a second, I think she’s going to try to ditch me. But then she falters, slowing down again before her voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I stop walking then, turning to face her while keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Try me,” I say, gentler. “Maybe I will.”
Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, her exhaustion evident now that she’s not trying to hide it. “I don’t need your help,” she mutters, looking away.
“So you’ve said before.” I take a step closer, my hand brushing the sleeve of her jacket. “Doesn’t matter if you want it or not. You’re not okay, Lina. I can see it.”
She bites her lip, her shoulders stiff. “You don’t get it.”
Maybe she’s right; maybe I don’t get it. But I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.
I take a deep breath, feeling my patience running thin but forcing it to hold. “What I get is that you’re pushing yourself, hoping it’ll make you feel something other than exhausted and broken. I get that because I’ve been there.” I’ve been so riddled with grief before that I no longer knew how to function the way I used to.
Her eyes flicker between mine, full of hesitation, trying to decide if I’m full of shit or if there’s something genuine behind what I’m saying.
“Fine,” she finally says. “So what, you think I should just go back to bed and pretend everything’s fine?”
“No pretending. You need rest, Lina. Let me help. You said you would consider my help.”
“What’s in it for you?” she asks, half-joking, half-challenging. “You just going to play the big hero?”
There’s a flash of amusement in her eyes, but underneath it, I see the real question. The one that has been hanging over us both since the first time we met:What the hell do I want from this?
“Maybe I just want some damn peace of mind. Maybe I’m tired of seeing you destroy yourself out here, pretending you’re fine.”Maybe this is more for me than it is for her.
I don’t tell her the truth, mostly because I know how irrational it sounds.
I’d sound crazy if I came out and told her that every time I think about her running in the middle of the night, I can’t help but wonder whether she’s considering drugs.
A lot of people looking for a solution to a problem like Lina’s would probably turn to something stronger than an early morning run—it’s a lot easier.
