Three years passed since the events of these few months, but they will always stick with me as a waypoint in my development, and the beginning of my externally driven thinking. It takes a degree of tragedy to simplify everything into terms of unselfish and selfish, and there is the waypoint where unselfish makes the most sense for a wholesome sense of self. Nietzsche postulated that living for others is a false morality that arose from ideas of the afterlife, where sacrifices in the present will lead to an unpromised but unimaginable future, where the reward heavily outweighs the loss. It is this contemptibility that gave rise to civilizations and society driven around communal gain instead of individualistic gain; although western thought trends towards individualist gains, it's still a situation where placing priority over yourself is better than otherwise. But it's not that simple because complete sacrifice isn't possible or even advisable when there are routes towards balance and that's something that I carried with me afterwards and I think it's something that everyone silently learns. Teenagers call it resignation, regular adults call it responsibility, but it's actually the full realization that there isn't any sort of higher calling that can either be rebelled against or feel as if there's a purpose or duty to it. There is only the fulfillment of a binary, the call to oneself and the call unto others, and that's why this mode of selfless selfishness is so appealing, where you are a proponent of living for others while still maintaining your goals and your sense of self. It's paradoxical in and of itself but in practice it's not only possible but abundant where most people do it and don't even realize that they're doing it. Live for others, live for yourself, and do both things in a way that not even you realize it's happening.

I felt my exterior dripping away with the approaching party date. Brittney had made me recognize the possibility of Eleanor's willingness, but I remembered what Alvin had told me weeks before that. He was the master of broken relationships, like a painter restoring a damaged piece; he threw together colors and shapes and made something fantastic again. Something that was fresh and colorful and new but with restorations, the original pieces has parts that are lost from it. Literature in translation works this way too, it's not the same because the original artist hadn't taken over the canvass and made work of what they'd done in the past. Dust obscures this new painter's vision and with a wealth of different experiences comes a lack of true understanding or authenticity. What's left can be a shambling corpse of the past or something that Alvin has made, a masterpiece in its own right. But I'm not a restorer.

It was February, six months and four days after when we had originally broken up. At the time, I knew it down to the moment, six months, four days, seventeen hours, thirty-one minutes, and eleven seconds, but I've long since forgotten that moment with that kind of precision. It would be ridiculous to hold onto something so insignificant. February always sits in this ethereal place between phases, as commonly do the last full months before a season change. It's so close to spring, and March will bring this brilliant and warm renewal to our frozen city but it's been cold for so long that the ground's forgotten how to be warm and without the ability to remember to be warm, February is commonly the coldest of the months of the year. Even when there's a lack of sunlight in December, February can't be bothered to warm up. But we're so used to the cold that it stops being such a hassle. The first fifty degree day will bring shorts and tank tops and sunglasses again and everyone will forget how bitter the winter was for us. It's a beautiful sentiment, that we can easily forget how horrible something is when the horizon is so bright. But it's not often that promises like spring are so steadfast and we can lose sight of them so quickly. The mire of winter would be endless without our almanacs and shared history, and those fifty degree days would be brushed off as flukes, not the beginning of a warming trend. But it wasn't March yet, it was February.

"The L is always the worst in the winter," Alvin said.

"It seems so crowded," I said.

"It isn't your perception, my friend, it's the truth," Alvin said, "By February, people are so damn sick of the snow and wind that they stop even trying to walk and everyone comes to the same realization that the subway is the only option. But those people are stubborn. They worked it out that they could continue to walk or, god forbid, ride a bike, around in December. And the last thing you want on a subway is stubborn people."

"You've really thought this one through," I said.

"Stubborn people demand their own space, and are the first to sit down, get up, and get out. Stubborn people aren't conscious of letting people off the train before trying to force your way onto it. Stubborn people kick their ice covered shoes around and expect you to be okay with that," Alvin said.

"I can feel your frustration," I said.

"And all of these people around us? Yeah they all know that they're the problem. I can't wait until spring when they get back to their walking routes and their bikes and their lives that don't include inconveniencing me," Alvin said.

"Don't you find it the least bit ironic that you're complaining about stubborn people?" I said.

"Not at all. Stubborn people like myself can't stand other stubborn people," Alvin said.

"We should live in the wilderness then, leave this place behind," I said.

"You can't win Ellie back in the backwoods of Montana," Alvin said.

"I was thinking Minnesota," I said.

"The main problem still stands," Alvin said.

"You're assuming I have any sort of shot of getting her back. She, realistically, hasn't expressed any interest in me, and I'm starting to think that you're point on 'winning people back' makes sense," I said.

"She did say you're cute," Alvin said.

"I'm absolutely adorable. What's your point?" I said.

"I wouldn't have told you about the possibility of relationship not being the same when you get back together. And I intentionally said when there, as you may have noticed. You two share this sort of pure love that conquers all and other Hallmark aphorisms," Alvin said.

That was the image we had made, and one that was hard to escape. Back in our touring days, I was the unassuming one while Alvin got to play the bad boy. Not only did he live his persona back then but he forced ours onto us too. It was this ultimate escapism. If we fell into line with him, then maybe the dreg of being forced to being someone else wouldn't hurt so badly. But Ellie was right when she broke up with me in the first chapter. I wasn't seeing her for herself. And our love wasn't pure.

Their building was this lovely old brownstone that had been cut into two apartments, with theirs on the top floor. I wonder if people will convert our tragic seventies office buildings into cool lofts in fifty years. This was it, the last steps before I had to risk. It. All. Dramatically, in my head I played through all of these bizarre scenarios, most of which involved her having some new boyfriend and he has wonderful hair and impeccable taste and he's like twenty seven so he has his life together in this way that I couldn't hope to have. He's like the nicest guy too, and he volunteers all the time and he's incredible in bed. And he's taller than me. Sometimes he's not though, but he's still intimidating. Two of the scenarios involved Alvin revealing that they're now together, one of which she'd been cheating on me for the last two months of our relationship. That seemed outlandish to me, but some people just love them together. Some scenarios were cheesy and romantic, and some were deeply tragic.

But we had to walk through that door first.

"Hey guys, welcome welcome," Brittney said, "I'll take your jackets."

"Are we the first people here?" Alvin said.

It was quiet, with only a bit of soft music playing but not real sounds of anyone talking. The apartment was small and it didn't seem to have anyone in it.

"Actually, you're the last to arrive," she said.

"Were we the only two invited then?" I said.

"No, Simon is here too," she said, "he's hanging out with Eleanor in the living room."

"I know you'd said it was going to be small, but this is much smaller than I'd expected," I said.

"Well, our place isn't big and we were thinking, why not just keep it to us. Excluding Jeanette of course, I wouldn't expect her to fly out her for our housewarming party," she said.

She walked us into the living room. Eleanor was there, sitting, like normal people do.

I honestly am not sure what happened the rest of the night, not until the end. So Alvin will be narrating the roughly three hours that I'd forgotten.

I can only really tell this from my perspective, but I wish I could just jump into Theo's mind through this. From essentially moment one, Theodore was doing these little bizarre things. For example, when we wandered into the living room:

"Alvin, Theo, hey. We were trying to figure out what to watch while we wait for food," Eleanor said, "Is there anything good on here anymore or is it just horribly biased documentaries with shitty shows tossed in?"

"There's nothing good, Netflix has really changed, man," I said.

I jumped onto the couch next to Eleanor. I know everyone expected us to force them to sit together like some Middle school drama, but I'm much more level headed than that. But, while I was thinking, Theodore was seemingly not. He stood, placid, the purest of unmoving, in the threshold of the door. Brittney snuck around him, and I can only describe his face as in between a grimace, a smile and a scream.

"Theodore, sit down with us," Simon said, "Or at least close your mouth."

"Right, yeah, sorry," Theodore said.

"We ordered pizza, and half of one of them is vegan Theo, so you're good to go," Eleanor said.

"Right, yeah, thanks," Theodore said.

His face was more neutral now, almost unfeeling, which was somehow worse than before.

"It really shocked me when Brittney told me that you're vegan now," Eleanor said, "What made you want to change?"

"Right, yeah, I don't know," he said, "I just kinda did."

The buzzer went off. Half time, Theo, saved by the bell man because you were doing really horribly out there.

"That must be the pizza, I'll go get it," Eleanor said.

She dipped out of the room and ran downstairs.

"That's grim Theo," Brittney said.

"Could you act a bit more normal, Theo?" Simon said.

"It's not too late, he can still pull this off," I said.

"Why are you all so invested in this?" Theodore said.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"We want you to be happy, Theo," Brittney said.

"And you were so happy with her, and so sad without, this makes logical sense," Simon said.

"Good, as long as it wasn't your ways of working through your own relationship failures. Because that would be not only tragic but messed up," he said.

I'm sure he only said that because his brain was on the defensive but it still hurt. It was no secret that the three of us hadn't had much luck with our relationships, but it didn't need to be pointed out. Theodore was always fun like that. I never knew when he'd do something shocking like that, seemingly from nowhere. But if it keeps happening it might not be from nowhere. When the food came, he ate silently. Wine was poured into solo cups, and the pizza was destroyed.

"I'm going to go smoke," Theodore said, "Is the fire escape cool to sit on?"

"Yeah it's fine," Eleanor said, "I'll come with, if that's okay."

So this is when I start remembering things. The walk to the window and stepping out onto the fire escape is a bit blurry, but the light from her matches hitting my cigarette was brilliant.

"Thanks," I said.

"How have you been?" She said.

"Fine I guess, you?" I said.

"Fine too," she said.

"Good," I said.

"I'm sorry about how everything happened, Theo," she said, "I didn't want there to be that huge dramatic outburst. That's not who I am, and it's not what you deserve."

"It's fine, you were right," I said, "You'd said I wasn't seeing you for who you were and I wasn't. I had idolized you, and made you into this vision. I'm sorry for that."

Those words hung in the air with our feeling smoke in the bitter air. There was a faint orange glow from the city streets onto the snow and the windows, she breathed out a huge drag that went on forever with the smoke and her breath making it last. I looked into her eyes and she looked back.

"I want to get back with you," I said.

"No, Theo," she said, "it doesn't work like that."

"Why not? I've figured out what my problem was, I've solved it, and I want to make it up to you," I said.

"You didn't figure it out, I told you what was going on. If you had actually figured it out, I wouldn't have had to say anything before I broke up with you, I wouldn't have guided you to that point, but you weren't listening then," she said.

"When did you ever say that stuff to me? You never mentioned anything like that when we were together" I said.

"The jealousy, the codependence, do you not remember any of that? You were crazy by the end of it," she said.

"I don't remember anything but my love for you," I said.

"That's sweet as hell Theo, but it doesn't mean anything. Do you remember pulling me aside at Rob's party to ask me why I was talking to that one guy? I can't even remember his name, he was so damn insignificant to me, but you lost your cool. Or when you went through my phone? You tried to hide it but I know you did. All the times you showed up at work and gave my male coworkers the stink eye, or freaked out when I wouldn't text you back immediately, Theo, all that happened," She said, "Everyone, including you thinks our relationship was perfect, but it wasn't even functional. And I love you, I do, and I won't stop for a while, but I can't be with you."

"Give me some credit—"

"I can't, so if you can't go in there and be civil after this smoke, go ahead and leave. There's just too much history between us now for this to be fixed," she said.

"I know," I said.

"You know?" She said.

"I know, you're right. I've had the feeling that was the case for a while, but I was getting pushed further down the road to getting you back. But I lost all of my perspective. These months have been the worst of my life, and I still not sure what to do. I love you, and I want to be with you but I know that we can't. And that's the worst, the certainty that something won't happen," I said.

"It's not as bad as false hope," she said.

"It is when it's something you've had before and you remember what it was like," I said.

She stamped out our cigarettes and reach in to give me a hug. Her hair still smelled the same, her body felt the same, but her warmth was gone.

"Endings are jagged, Theodore," she said, "They don't get wrapped up into an easy to digest package. And this is no exception."

A/N: So, that's all i've got, Running From is complete. First completed story in a really long time, and it feels good. I'm not sure If i'll bust out another one any time soon, but you all will be the first to know, of course. I'm not sure how much further I can go with this though without repeating myself. Running From may be one of my lower reviewed pieces but I honestly think it's my best. It is, it's far and away my best. And I'll see if I want to do a follow up act to this or if this is truly my last story.