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You should just hit me up

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She regretted every moment of it.

Letting him go without saying a thing, without a proper goodbye. He deserved it and she owed it to him. 

The image of his mouth spelling the words "I have to go" was burnt into her head. — "Fox, I -" she couldn't say a thing after that. It hurt, like a thousand needles on her skin. She owed him. He meant everything to her and she didn't have the nerve to say a single word. She knew that if she asked, he would stay. His eyes told her so. Begged her so.

Each moment she spent with him, spinning through her mind as she tortures herself with regret. She held the stolen letter and the tears blurred the ink.

Their nights on her sidewalk, smoking stolen cigarettes and looking at the stars. The way he brushed his hand against hers, asking for an unconcerned tangle. 

He missed her and still, he didn't reach out for her. And now that she knew it hurt more than if she didn't. She wanted it to be different, and still she couldn't do a single thing about it. 

And she regretted more than anything in this world, not telling the three words that would make him stay. She brushed her fingers through her lips, trying to get a sense of those words - and her lips against his.