bloodstream
in which . . . fuckboy!matt breaks your heart a billion times and you just can’t let go.
warnings- angst. heartbreak. mentions of cheating. alcohol and drug abuse. pet names. unestablished relationship. toxicity. begging. unresolved angst. commitment issues. many many arguments and lots of shitty things said.
word count- 7894
You stood in the middle of the living room with swollen eyes and shaking hands, watching Matt shove clothes into a duffel bag so carelessly that half of them missed.
He looked exhausted.
Not angry.
Not even frustrated anymore.
Just…done.
"What are you doing?" you asked, even though you already knew.
He didn't answer.
"Matt."
Silence.
"You don't seriously think you're walking out."
He zipped the bag halfway before it snagged on one of his hoodies. He yanked harder until it gave.
Still no answer.
You laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.
"So that's it?"
Nothing.
"You disappear for three days, I find out from someone else that you're making out with another girl at some house party, and now you're packing your shit?"
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"I don't have it in me tonight."
"Oh, no, don't do that," you snapped. "Don't act like you're tired. You're tired? I'm tired, Matt."
He let out a slow breath.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"No, you don't!" you yelled. "Because if you did, you wouldn't keep doing this to me!"
His jaw clenched.
"I'm trying to leave before this gets worse."
"Worse?" You laughed again, louder this time. "You think this gets worse? You already cheated on me. You already lied to me. You already disappeared every single weekend because partying was somehow more important than your fucking girlfriend."
"I said stop."
"You already let me sit here wondering if you were dead while you were getting drunk with people who don't give a shit about you."
"I said stop."
"And now you wanna play the victim because I'm finally calling you out?"
"I said stop talking."
"Make me."
The apartment went quiet.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then he picked the bag back up.
That hurt more than if he'd screamed.
"You don't even care," you whispered.
"I do."
"No."
You stepped in front of the door.
"You don't."
"I'm leaving."
"No."
"Move."
"I'm not moving."
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Please."
You stared at him.
He actually said please.
"You've never begged me for anything before."
"I'm begging you now."
"You know what's funny?" you asked, tears slipping down your face. "I've begged you for months."
He swallowed.
"I begged you to answer your phone."
Silence.
"I begged you to stop flirting with girls every time you got drunk."
Nothing.
"I begged you to come home."
He closed his eyes.
"I begged you to love me enough to stop hurting me."
"I do love you."
You scoffed.
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"You don't cheat on someone you love."
"I know."
"You don't disappear on someone you love."
"I know."
"You don't make someone question themselves every single fucking day if you love them."
"I know."
"So stop saying you love me!"
His voice cracked.
"I DO."
The words echoed through the apartment.
He looked horrified that he'd yelled.
You looked horrified that you still wanted to believe him.
"If you loved me," you whispered, "you would've changed."
He stood there for a long time.
Long enough that you almost convinced yourself he was going to say he would.
Instead—
"I can't."
You shook your head.
"No."
"I can't."
"You won't."
His eyes filled with tears.
"...No."
He looked at the floor.
"I won't."
The room felt like it collapsed around you.
"You'd rather lose me?"
He nodded once.
"I'd rather lose you than keep ruining you."
"Don't decide that for me!"
"I'm not deciding—"
"You ARE!" you screamed. "You don't get to make that choice! I stayed!"
"Can we ju-"
"I stayed after every lie!"
"I know..”
"I stayed after every party!"
"I know dude.”
"I stayed after every girl!"
"Okay- i get it."
"Why wasn't I enough?"
"You were."
"Then why?"
He couldn't answer.
He just sighed.
That somehow made it worse.
"You don't even have a reason," you whispered.
"No."
"So all those nights I sat here waiting…”
His silence answered for him.
You laughed through your tears.
"I defended you."
He shut his eyes.
"Everyone told me to leave."
Silence.
"They called you a fuckboy."
Nothing.
"They said you'd never change."
He looked like he couldn't breathe.
"And I told them they didn't know you."
Another tear rolled down your face.
"I looked so stupid."
"You weren't stupid."
"Wasn’t I?"
"No."
"I waited up until four in the morning because I was scared something happened to you."
"I know."
"And you know where you were?"
He didn't answer.
"You were kissing someone else."
He covered his face.
"Bro. I fucking know."
You stared at him.
"No."
Your voice turned cold.
"I don't think you do."
He slowly lowered his hands.
"I don't think you understand what you've done to me. I used to be happy. Do you remember that? I used to smile. I used to laugh. And then I met you, and I gave you everything. And you crushed it. You took all the good parts of me and ground them into dust. And now I'm just this broken, angry, sad, pathetic version of myself."
"I'm trying to fix it."
"No. You leaving isn't fixing it. It's running away. It's letting me deal with all the pieces while you go off and pretend this never happened."
He laughed.
"Fix it? You want me to fix it?" He dropped the bag. "How? How do I fix years of me being a piece of shit? Tell me how, and I'll do it."
"Change! Just change! Be better! Stop doing the things that hurt me!"
"Change into what? Who am I supposed to be?"
"Someone who doesn't cheat on his girlfriend!"
"So I just stop? Just like that?" He snapped his fingers. "Poof, all better?"
"YES! It's not that hard, Matt! You just DON'T do the thing! You just DON'T kiss other girls! You just DON'T lie! It's literally that simple!"
He shook his head slowly, a strange, almost pitying smile on his face.
"You really don't get it, do you?"
"Get what? Enlighten me!"
"I can't change." His voice was flat. "I don't want to change."
The words hit you like a physical blow.
"What?"
"Every time I tell you I'm going to change, every time I say I'm sorry, I'm lying. To you. To myself. I know I'm going to do it again. I know I'm going to hurt you again. And I do it anyway. Because I don't want to stop."
"You don't…you don't want to stop?"
"I like it. I like the attention. I like the chase. I like knowing I could have anyone I want. I like coming home to you and knowing you'll forgive me. It makes me feel powerful."
You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
"I told you from the beginning. I said I wasn't good at relationships. I said I was going to hurt you. I said you deserved better. And you didn't listen. You kept telling me you saw something in me. Well, guess what? There's nothing there. I am exactly who you thought I wasn't. I'm a liar. I'm a cheater. I'm selfish. And I don't care enough to change."
"Stop saying that."
"Why? Because it's true? You begged me to be honest. Here I am. Being honest."
"I didn't mean this."
"You wanted me to be honest, but only in the way that made you feel better. You wanted to be my savior. But I don't need fixing. I don't want fixing. I like who I am. I like being the guy who can walk out that door right now and find someone else in five minutes."
Tears streamed down your face.
"You're lying. You're just trying to hurt me."
"Am I? Or am I finally telling you the truth you've been begging for?"
"Matt, please—"
"I told you I'd ruin you. I told you I was bad news. I told you to run. But you didn't listen. You stayed, and you loved me, and you thought that would be enough. Newsflash, sweetheart. Love doesn't fix anything. It just makes it hurt more when it ends."
You sank to your knees.
"Why are you being so cruel?"
"Because you won't let me leave any other way!" He slammed his fist against the wall. "I tried being gentle! I tried letting you down easy! But you just kept holding on! You kept begging, kept crying, kept making me feel like the worst person in the world! So fine. You want to see the worst person in the world? Here I am."
He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
"Look at me. This is who I am. The guy who uses people. The guy who takes what he wants and moves on. The guy who doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he needs. That's the guy you've been dating for two years. The guy you've been defending to everyone who warned you about me."
He let go.
You crumpled forward, sobbing.
"So stop begging. Stop begging me to change. Stop begging me to love you. Because I can't. I don't know how. And I don't want to learn."
You looked up at him, your face wrecked with tears.
"I'm literally sitting here begging you to change for me. On my knees. Begging you. Don't you care at all?"
He stared down at you, his expression unreadable.
Then he crouched down, bringing his face level with yours.
"I hear you," he said softly. "I hear every word you're saying."
You felt a flicker of hope.
"And I don't care."
The flicker died.
"I don't care about what you want. I don't care about what you need. I don't care about how many nights you've cried. I don't care about how many times you've forgiven me. I don't care about any of it. Because none of it matters to me."
"Matt—"
"I was never going to change for you. I was never going to be the guy you wanted. And you knew that. You just didn't want to believe it."
He stood up, grabbing his duffel bag.
"So here's the truth. I cheated on you because I wanted to. I lied to you because I wanted to. I disappeared because I wanted to. Every single thing I did, I did because I wanted to. And I would do it all again. Because I don't care about you. I never did."
"Don't say that. You don't mean it."
"I don't?" He laughed, hollow and cold. "You want me to prove it?"
He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, held it up. A photo. Him and the blonde girl. Half-dressed. In bed together.
"I slept with her. The night of the party. And then I came home to you the next morning and told you I loved you. And you believed me. Just like you always do."
You felt like you were going to be sick.
"Her name is Michelle. And Sarah. And Emily. And Jenna. And Chloe. Six of them, I think? Seven? I lost count. All in the last six months. All while you were sitting here, waiting for me, making me dinner, telling me you loved me."
"Please stop."
"Why? This is who I am. I use people. I hurt people. And then I move on. You're not special. You were never special. You were just convenient."
He pocketed the phone.
"And now I'm done being convenient. I'm done pretending. I'm done lying. I'm done with you. So get up off the floor, stop crying, and let me leave."
You shook your head slowly.
"I can't. I can't do this."
"You can. Because I'm leaving either way. Whether you're on the floor or not. Whether you're crying or not. Whether you love me or not. I'm leaving."
"Please, Matt. I'll do anything. I'll be anything. Just stay."
He crouched down again, and for a moment, you thought you saw something soften in his eyes.
Then he spoke.
"You want to do anything? You want to be anything?"
You nodded desperately.
"Then let me go. That's what I want. I want you to stand up, open the door, and watch me walk away. And I want you to never call me again. That's the only thing you can do for me."
"No. Please. I can't."
"Yes you can." He pried your fingers off his arm, one by one. "You've survived worse. You'll survive this too."
"Matt, please don't leave me. Please. I'll stop asking where you are. I'll stop getting mad when you go out. I won't bring up the girls anymore. I don't care. I don't care about any of it. Just stay. Please. Just stay."
His eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners.
"I don't care anymore!" Your voice cracked. "I don't care if you cheat on me! I don't care if you lie to me! I don't care if you come home at four in the morning smelling like someone else! I just need you here. That's all. I just need you here."
"Stop."
"Just come back. Please. I'll be better. I won't nag you. I won't question you. I won't ask you anything. I promise. I promise I'll be better."
"You don't have to be better. You were never the problem."
"Then why? Why are you leaving me? Why don't you love me enough to stay?"
He looked at you for a long moment. Everything in him wanted to say he does. Everything in him wanted to wrap his arms around you and promise he'd change. Promise he'd be better. Promise he'd finally be the man you deserved. But he knew himself too well. He'd made that promise before. He'd broken it every single time. And he couldn't do that to you again. He couldn't watch you slowly destroy yourself trying to fix someone who was beyond saving. He couldn't stand another night of seeing you cry. Hearing you beg. Watching the light drain out of your eyes because of him.
So instead of telling you the truth—instead of admitting that he loved you more than he'd ever loved anything in his entire miserable life—he looked at you with hollow eyes. And he said the one thing he knew would make you finally let go.
"Because I don't love you."
The words hung in the air like smoke. You stared at him, searching his face, desperate for any sign that he was lying. Any sign at all. But he'd already shut down. Pushed everything so far down that nothing showed on his face. Not the way his heart was shattering behind his ribs. Not the way every cell in his body was screaming at him to take it back. Not the way he knew, with absolute certainty, that he would never love anyone the way he loved you.
Because it wasn't true. It was so far from the truth it was almost laughable. He loved you in a way that terrified him. In a way that consumed him. In a way that made him hate himself because he couldn't stop hurting you. But he had to say it. He had to make you believe it. Because if he didn't, you'd keep holding on. You'd keep hoping. You'd keep waiting for him to change. And he couldn't do that to you. He couldn't drag you down with him any longer.
He said it again, his voice flat and cold like he was reading from a script. "I don't love you. I never did. You were just...comfortable. Someone to come home to. Someone to make me feel like I wasn't completely worthless. But that's all it was."
He watched your face crumble. Watched the last shred of hope die in your eyes. And it took everything in him not to fall apart right there.
"Then why did you stay so long?" you whispered. "If you didn't love me, why didn't you just leave?"
He shrugged, forcing himself to keep going even though every word tasted like poison. "Like I said. You were convenient. You made me feel good about myself. And you never left. Even when you should have. Even when everyone told you to. You just kept taking it. Kept forgiving me. Kept letting me treat you like garbage. It was easy."
He watched the tears stream down your face and forced himself to keep going. "Look at you. You're on your knees. Begging me to stay. Begging me to love you. You have no self-respect left. You've given up everything for someone who couldn't care less about you. And that's pathetic."
"You don't mean that." Your voice was barely a whisper.
"I do."
"You're lying."
He forced himself to smile. "I'm not. This is the most honest I've ever been with you. And you can't handle it. Because then you'd have to admit that you wasted two years of your life on someone who was never going to love you back."
You let go of him slowly, like you were finally letting him go. Like you were finally letting yourself believe. And something inside him shattered completely.
He stood up. Picked up his bag. "I'm leaving," he said, his voice flat. "And I don't want you to call me. I don't want you to text me. I don't want you to show up at my door. I want you to forget I ever existed. Because that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to forget you."
He walked to the door.
"Matt."
He stopped. But he didn't turn around.
"Was any of it real? Even a little bit?"
He closed his eyes. His hand tightened on the doorknob. Everything in him wanted to turn around. Everything in him wanted to fall to his knees and tell you the truth. That every moment was real. That he loved you so much it was destroying him. That he was leaving because he couldn't stand to hurt you anymore. That he would rather have you hate him than love him and keep suffering. But he couldn't do that to you. He couldn't drag you back in. So he said the only thing that would make her stop fighting.
"No."
His voice didn't waver.
"None of it was real."
He opened the door.
"Matt, please—"
He stepped through.
"MATT!"
The door closed behind him.
He stood in the hallway for a long moment, his forehead pressed against the door, his shoulders shaking, tears streaming down his face. He could hear you sobbing on the other side. Could hear you calling his name. Could hear the sound of your heart breaking. And his was breaking right along with it.
He wanted to open the door. Wanted to hold you. Wanted to tell you it was all a lie. That he loved you. That he would always love you. That he was sorry. So fucking sorry. But he didn't. Because he knew the moment he opened that door—the moment he saw your face—he would never be able to leave. And then he would keep hurting you. And he couldn't do that.
So he walked away. One step. Then another. Then another. His footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Each one pulling him further from you. Further from the only person who had ever truly loved him. And when he reached the stairwell, he broke. Collapsed against the wall. Slid down to the floor. And sobbed like he had never sobbed before. Because he knew he was the one who had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Back in the apartment, you sat on the floor in the darkness, staring at the closed door. Your chest ached with the weight of everything he'd said. Everything he'd done. Everything he'd taken from you.
And for the first time in two years, you were completely alone.
(End Flashback)
Two months later.
The guest room at your mom's house had become a tomb.
You'd been staying there since that night. The apartment was unbearable. Every corner held a memory. Every wall had a photograph. Every surface had his fingerprints on it. You couldn't breathe there.
So you'd packed a bag and left.
That bag was still sitting on the floor by the bed. Unpacked. His hoodie still folded inside it because you couldn't bring yourself to wash it. Couldn't bring yourself to wash away the last trace of him.
You hadn't slept in your own bed since that night. Couldn't. The sheets still smelled like him. The pillow still had the indent of his head. You'd tried once. Made it about thirty seconds before you were sobbing so hard you thought you might throw up.
So you slept in the guest room now.
Or rather, you didn't sleep.
You lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Watched the light change from dark to gray to pale morning. Watched the hours crawl by. Watched yourself become a ghost in your own life.
Your mom had stopped asking if you'd eaten. Now she just left food outside the door. A plate of toast. A bowl of soup. A sandwich cut in half. Some days you ate. Most days you didn't. You couldn't remember the last time you actually tasted anything.
Every morning, you woke up expecting a text from him.
Every morning, you reached for your phone.
Every morning, there was nothing.
You scrolled back through the conversation sometimes. Couldn't help yourself. It was like picking at a wound that wouldn't heal. The messages from the first few days after he left were a train wreck you couldn't look away from.
The first night, you'd been angry.
You're a coward.
You're a fucking coward, Matt.
You don't get to just walk out.
The second night, you'd been desperate.
Please just answer me.
I'm not okay.
I'm really not okay.
By the third morning, you'd just wanted him to acknowledge your existence.
Please.
Just tell me you're okay.
I need to know you're okay.
Then you scrolled further. To the texts you'd sent when you were drunk and broken and couldn't stop yourself.
please don't make me learn how to live without you
You'd typed it with tears streaming down your face. Pressed send. Waited for a reply.
Still nothing.
You locked your phone.
Five minutes later, you unlocked it again.
Just to make sure nothing had changed.
Nothing ever changed.
The door to the guest room opened without warning.
Light flooded in. Blinding. Aggressive. You squeezed your eyes shut and pulled the covers over your head.
"No."
"Yes."
"I'm not getting up."
"You are."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You're going to that party with me."
"I don't want to go to a party."
"Tough."
The covers were yanked off you. You groaned and pressed your face into the pillow. Olivia stood over you with her hands on her hips. She looked like she meant business. She'd looked like that for two months now. Ever since she'd found out.
"Liv, please—"
"Get up."
"No."
"I'm serious."
"I don't care."
"I know you don't care. That's the problem." Olivia grabbed your arm, trying to pull you upright. "You haven't left this room in three days. You haven't showered in four. You haven't eaten anything that wasn't left outside your door like you're a stray cat. This is not okay."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit."
"I'm fine."
"Get up."
"I can't."
"You can."
"No, I really can't."
Olivia stopped pulling. She sat down on the edge of the bed instead. Her voice softened. "Yes you can. You just don't want to."
You didn't answer.
Olivia's eyes landed on the overnight bag on the floor. The corner of his hoodie peeking out. She reached for it and pulled it out, holding it up.
"Is this his?"
"Give it back."
"You've been sleeping with this?"
"Give it back!"
You snatched it from Olivia's hands and clutched it to your chest. Your heart was pounding. Your eyes were burning. You didn't want to cry. You'd cried so much already. There couldn't be any tears left.
Olivia watched you for a long moment. Then she said it. Quietly. Gently. Like she was letting air out of a balloon.
"He's gone."
You didn't answer.
"But you're still here."
Something cracked inside you. Something you'd been holding together with sheer force of will.
"And I know it doesn't feel like it right now," Olivia continued. "I know it feels like you died that night too. But you didn't. You're still here. And you have to start acting like it. Because I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. I just can't."
"I don't know how," you whispered. "I don't know how to be okay without him."
"Then fake it." Olivia's voice was steady. "Just for tonight. Get up. Get dressed. Come to this stupid party with me. Pretend to be fine for a few hours. And if you still want to come home and fall apart after, I'll let you. But you have to try. You have to at least try."
You stared at the hoodie in your hands.
You could still smell him on it.
Could still feel his arms around you.
Could still hear his voice saying he loved you.
But he was gone.
And you were still here.
"Okay," you finally said. "Okay."
Two hours later, you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at a stranger.
Olivia had done your hair. Curled it. Made it look effortless even though it had taken forty-five minutes. She'd done your makeup too. Smoky eyes. Red lips. Something that made you look like you had your life together instead of falling apart.
The dress was black. Short. Tight. You hadn't worn it since Matt's birthday party last year. He'd told you looked like sin in it.
"You look hot," Olivia said from the doorway. "Like, genuinely hot."
"I feel like a fraud."
"That's fine. Feel like a fraud. Look hot while doing it. That's the whole point."
You laughed. It was a small sound. Foreign in your throat. But it was something.
"There you are," Olivia said softly.
You turned away from the mirror. Grabbed your clutch. "Let's go before I change my mind."
The party was in a house you didn't recognize.
Music thumped through the floorboards. People spilled out onto the lawn. Red solo cups everywhere. The familiar hum of too many bodies in too small a space. You used to love this. Used to love the chaos. Used to love losing yourself in a crowd.
Now it just felt loud.
Olivia grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. "Come on. I need a drink."
You let yourself be dragged. Let yourself be handed a cup of something that burned going down. Let yourself be pulled onto the makeshift dance floor. Let yourself move. Let yourself pretend.
And for a while, it worked.
The music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts. The alcohol was warm enough to numb the edges. You closed your eyes and let yourself feel nothing.
Then you opened them.
And there he was.
Across the room.
Leaning against the wall.
Talking to some girl with long brown hair and a laugh that carried over the music.
Matt.
Your heart stopped.
Then started again, too fast, too hard.
He looked good. Of course he looked good. He always looked good. He was wearing a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was shorter. He'd cut it. You didn't know why that bothered you so much. He was smiling at something the girl said. That easy smile that used to be yours.
You couldn't breathe.
"Hey," Olivia said, noticing your frozen expression. "What—" She followed your gaze. Her face fell. "Oh, no."
"Liv—"
"Don't. Don't do this. Don't let him ruin this."
"I need to leave."
"No, you don't. You need to stay. You need to show him you don't care."
"I can't. I can't be here. I can't—"
Then he looked up.
Your eyes met across the room.
His smile faltered. His face went pale. He was still talking to the girl, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking at you.
And something inside you snapped.
All the hurt. All the anger. All the nights you'd spent crying and screaming into your pillow. All the text messages you'd sent that he'd ignored. All the ways he'd made you feel small and worthless and completely invisible.
It all came roaring back.
You were moving before you realized it. Pushing through the crowd. Your heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Your chest heaving. Your vision tunneling.
"Hey," he said, straightening up when he saw you approach. "I didn't know you'd be here—"
"Don't."
His mouth closed.
"Don't you fucking dare act surprised to see me. Don't you dare pretend like we're just two people who happen to run into each other at a party."
The girl next to him looked uncomfortable. Stepped back.
Matt held up his hands. "Okay—"
"No, Matt. No 'okay.' You don't get to do that. You don't get to walk out on me after two years and then just show up somewhere and act like everything's fine."
"I'm not acting like—"
"Yes you are. That's exactly what you're doing. You're standing here talking to some girl like you don't have a care in the world. Like you didn't destroy me. Like I didn't spend two months crying over you."
"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"
"No. I don't want to talk about this anywhere else. I want to talk about it right here."
His jaw tightened.
"Nothing," you repeated, jabbing a finger at his chest. "That's what I was to you, right? Nothing. Just convenient. That's what you said."
"Can we just—"
"No. You don't get to ask me for anything. You don't get to ask me to be quiet. You don't get to ask me to be reasonable. You gave up that right when you walked out that door."
"I left because I had to."
"Bullshit. You left because you didn't love me. You said it yourself. You said you never loved me. You said I was just comfortable. Just convenient. Someone to come home to. So how's that working out for you, Matt? You find someone else yet? Someone else to destroy?"
"You think this is easy for me?"
"I don't give a shit if it's easy for you!"
"I'm trying—"
"You're not trying anything! You gave up! You walked out! You left me on the floor of our apartment like I was garbage!"
"Because I couldn't keep hurting you!"
"So you hurt me worse? That's your logic?"
"I was trying to save you from myself!"
"Well you failed! Congratulations! I'm more broken now than I ever was with you!"
People were staring. You didn't care.
"Fuck you, Matt! Fuck you for making me love you! Fuck you for making me believe you could change! Fuck you for making me feel like I was the problem! Fuck every single thing about you!"
You turned around and walked away.
Olivia was right there. Grabbing your arm. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."
You let yourself be led. Out of the house. Past the people staring. Past the noise. Past the smell of alcohol and sweat and desperation.
The night air hit you like a slap.
You started walking.
"Where are you going?" Olivia asked.
"Away."
"I'll drive you."
"No. I need to walk. I need to clear my head."
"Are you sure?"
"Liv. Please."
Olivia hesitated. Then nodded. "Call me if you need me. I mean it."
You walked.
And walked.
And walked.
You didn't know how long you walked. Didn't know where you were going. Didn't care. Your heels hurt. Your feet hurt. Everything hurt.
You found a bar somewhere. Divey. Dimly lit. The kind of place where no one asked questions. You sat down at the counter and ordered something strong.
Then another.
Then another.
The bartender looked at you like he wanted to cut you off. You glared at him until he walked away.
You drank until you couldn't feel anything.
Then you drank some more.
And then—
You pulled out your phone.
You didn't remember dialing.
Didn't remember pressing call.
But suddenly his voice was in your ear.
"Hello? Hello? Are you there?"
You pressed the phone to your ear. Could barely hold it steady. Everything was spinning.
"I hate you," you slurred. "I hate you so much."
"Are you drunk?"
"Thass none of your business."
"It is if you called me. Where are you?"
"I don't...I don't know. Some bar. Somewhere. Whass it to you?"
"You called me. You called me, so clearly you wanted me to know."
"I didn't mean to call you. I meant to call...I meant to call someone else. Anyone else. Not you. Never you."
"Where are you, sweetheart?"
"Don't call me that. Don't you call me that. You don't get to call me that. Not anymore."
"Okay. Okay, I won't. Just tell me where you are."
"I hate you. Did I say that already? I hate you. I hate you so much. You left me. You just... you left. And I've been...hic...I've been so sad. So fucking sad, Matt. Every single day."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? You're sorry? What good does that do me? What good does sorry do? I can't breathe. I can't sleep. I can't...hic...I can't do anything. Everything hurts. Everything."
"I know, baby. I know."
"Don't call me baby! You lost that right! You lost every right when you walked out that door!"
"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry."
"Stop saying sorry! It doesn't mean anything! Nothing means anything anymore! I don't even know why I'm still...hic...still here. I don't know why I keep waking up. Every morning I wake up and I wish I didn't. And then I see your stupid face in my head. Everywhere. Everywhere I go. And I can't get rid of you. I can't get rid of you no matter how hard I try."
"Please. Please just tell me where you are. Let me come get you."
"Why? So you can leave again? So you can watch me fall apart and then just... just walk away again? No. No, I don't think so."
"I won't leave. I promise."
"Your promises don't mean anything. You promised you'd love me. You promised you'd stay. You promised you'd change. All lies. Every single word was a lie."
"You're right. I lied. I lied about a lot of things. But I never lied about loving you."
"Bullshit. You said... hic... you said you didn't love me. You said it was all... all convenient. You said I was nothing. You said none of it was real."
"Because I had to make you hate me. I had to make you let me go."
"Stop. Stop talking. I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Just...just leave me alone."
"I can't. Not when you're like this. Not when you called me."
"I didn't mean to call you."
"But you did. And I'm not hanging up. So either you tell me where you are, or I stay on this phone until you figure it out."
"Fine. I don't care. Stay on the phone. See if I care."
"Okay. I will."
Silence.
"Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"I still love you. Is that stupid? Is that so fucking stupid? I still love you and I hate myself for it. I hate myself so much."
"It's not stupid. It's not stupid at all."
"Yes it is. It's so stupid. You're stupid. I'm stupid. Everything is stupid. I just...hic...I just wanted you to see me tonight. In that dress. I wore that dress for you. Did you even see me? Did you even notice?"
"I saw you. I noticed. You looked beautiful. You always look beautiful."
"I wanted you to hurt. I wanted you to see what you did to me. I wanted you to feel bad. Did you feel bad? Did you?"
"I felt terrible. I still feel terrible. Every single day."
"Good. That's good. I want you to feel terrible. I want you to feel as terrible as I feel. I want you to...hic...I want you to hurt so bad you can't breathe. Just like me."
"I do. I hurt so bad I can't breathe. Every single day."
"Liar."
"I'm not lying. Not about this."
"I don't believe you. I don't believe anything you say."
"I know."
Silence.
"I don't know where I am."
"That's okay. Pass the phone to the bartender."
"I don't want to."
"Please. Just let me talk to the bartender. I just need to know where you are so I can come get you. Then you can hate me all you want. You can scream at me. You can hit me. You can do whatever you want. Just let me know you're safe."
"Fine. Fine, whatever."
You handed the phone to the bartender.
Heard Matt's voice on the other end.
The bartender nodded. Said something you couldn't make out. Then he hung up and handed the phone back to you.
"He's coming," the bartender said. "You're gonna be okay."
You nodded.
Then you put your head down on the counter and closed your eyes.
You didn't know how long it was before you felt a hand on your shoulder.
Gentle. Familiar.
"Hey."
You looked up.
Matt was standing there. His face was pale. His eyes were red.
"I hate you," you slurred.
"I know."
"I really, really hate you."
"I know, baby."
"I was hoping you'd be at that party tonight."
He blinked. "You were?"
"Yeah. Stupid, right? I was hoping you'd be there. And then you were. And I freaked out. I just...hic..." You stopped. Swallowed. "I just want to stop hurting. That's all I want. I want to stop hurting."
He helped you up. Wrapped an arm around your waist. Led you out of the bar and into the night.
The car was parked nearby. He opened the passenger door. Helped you in. Buckled your seatbelt like you were a child.
You let him.
In the car, you stared out the window. Watched the streetlights blur past.
"I still love you," you mumbled.
He was quiet.
"I know I'm not supposed to. I know I should hate you. I know everyone says I should be over you. But I'm not. I'm so not over you. It's so stupid. It's so stupid and I hate it. I hate it so much."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Don't take me to my mom's. Please. I don't want to see her face. She looks at me like I'm... like I'm broken. Like I'm something she has to fix. I can't take it."
"Okay. I won't."
"You can take me to my apartment. The...the old one. Ours. I haven't been there in two months. I couldn't. I couldn't even look at it. But I want to go there now. I want to go home."
"Okay."
"Will you stay? Just for tonight? I know you probably don't want to. I know you probably have somewhere else to be. Someone else to be with. That girl. With the hair. She was pretty. Was she your girlfriend? Is that who you're with now?"
"There's no one else."
"Liar."
"I'm not lying. There's no one else. There hasn't been anyone else."
"Then why did you leave?"
He didn't answer.
"I wanted you to see me tonight. In that dress. I wanted you to see what you were missing. Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"
"I missed you every single day."
"Then why didn't you call? Why didn't you text? Why did you just... leave?"
He didn't answer.
"I hate you. I hate you so much. But I also... I also just want you to hold me. Is that pathetic? Is that so pathetic? I hate myself for wanting you to hold me."
"It's not pathetic."
"Yes it is. Everything about this is pathetic. Everything about me is pathetic. I'm so pathetic. I'm so broken. I'm so..."
"Shh." He reached over and put his hand on your knee. "Close your eyes."
"No, I don't want to—"
"Please. Just close your eyes. I can't stand hearing you talk about yourself like this. Just rest, okay? I'll get you home."
You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. You were too tired.
So you closed your eyes.
When you opened them again, the car was parked outside your apartment building.
Your old apartment building.
Your heart started racing.
"I don't know if I can do this," you whispered.
"Yes you can. I'm right here."
"That's the problem. You're right here. And I don't know if I can handle you being right here and then leaving again."
"I'm not going to leave. Not tonight. I'll stay as long as you need me to."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
He got out of the car. Came around to your side. Opened the door. Helped you out.
Your legs were unsteady. He held you up.
"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get you inside."
You leaned into him. Let him lead you up the stairs.
The hallway was familiar. The door was familiar. Everything was familiar.
He unlocked it with the key he still had.
You walked inside.
Everything was exactly how you'd left it. The furniture. The photos. The books.
Your stomach dropped.
"I can't do this," you said, pulling away.
"Yes you can."
"No. I can't. I can't be here. It's too much."
"Look at me."
You looked at him.
"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe."
"I can't. I can't breathe. I can't—"
"Yes you can. Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out."
You tried.
It took a few tries.
But eventually, your breathing slowed.
"There you go," he said. "You're okay. You're okay."
You looked around the apartment again.
The same couch. The same rug. The same everything.
"How is it still the same?" you whispered. "How is everything exactly the same when everything is so different?"
"I don't know."
"I thought you'd have come back. I thought you'd have taken your stuff. I kept waiting for you to come back and take your stuff. But you never did."
"I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because coming back here...it would have been too hard. Seeing it all. Seeing all the things we built together. I couldn't do it."
"So you just let me deal with it? You just left me with everything?"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Stop saying sorry. I'm so tired of sorry."
"I know."
He guided you into the bathroom. Sat you down on the edge of the tub. You watched through blurred vision as he rummaged through the drawers, pulling out your makeup wipes.
"What are you doing?" you slurred.
"Cleaning you up. You're a mess."
"You're a mess," you mumbled back.
He almost smiled. Almost.
He knelt in front of you and started gently wiping the smeared mascara from under your eyes. His touch was soft. Careful. Like you were something precious.
"I missed this," you whispered. "I missed you taking care of me."
He didn't answer.
"I would've forgiven you," you continued, your voice cracking. "Every single time. Every time you cheated. Every time you lied. Every time you disappeared. I would've forgiven you every single time."
"Shh."
"No, I mean it. I would've forgiven you for everything. For all of it. I would've taken you back in a heartbeat. And that's so embarrassing. It's so embarrassing how much I love you."
"Don't."
"It's true. I was pathetic. I was so pathetic. I sat on my mom's floor every single day and I cried. I cried so much, Matt. And she'd just stand there and watch me. She didn't know what to do with me. She didn't know how to fix me. No one knew how to fix me. Because the only thing that could fix me was you. And you were gone."
"Please stop."
"I cried until I couldn't breathe. I cried until I threw up. And I just wanted you. I just wanted you to come back. I didn't even care if you loved me. I just wanted you to come back."
He kept wiping your face. His hands were shaking now.
"Every night I'd dial your number," you continued. "And I'd sit there with my thumb over the call button. And I couldn't press it. Because I knew you wouldn't answer. And that would've killed me. That would've actually killed me."
"Okay. That's enough."
"No it's not. It's not enough. I need you to understand. I need you to know how much you ruined me. I need you to know that I'd still take you back. Right now. Right this second. If you asked, I'd say yes. Isn't that pathetic? Isn't that so fucking pathetic?"
He stopped wiping your face and just looked at you. His eyes were glassy. His jaw was tight.
"I'd say yes," you repeated. "I'd say yes and I'd hate myself for it. But I'd say yes."
"Drink this."
He handed you a glass of water. You took it. Drank it. He handed you another. You drank that too.
The fog in your head started to clear. Just a little.
"I'm sorry," you mumbled.
"For what?"
"Being like this. Being so broken. Being so pathetic."
"You're not pathetic."
"Yes I am."
"No you're not. You're hurting. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes."
You finished the water and set the glass down. Looked at him. Really looked at him.
"Will you stay?" you asked. "Just stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone. I can't be alone right now. Please."
He hesitated. You could see him trying to find a way to say no. See him trying to do the right thing. The thing that would protect you. Protect himself.
Then he looked at your face. The mascara still smeared around your eyes. The way you were barely holding yourself together.
He sighed.
"Okay."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
He helped you into the bedroom. Helped you out of the dress and into an old t-shirt. Pulled back the covers. Let you crawl into bed.
He lay down next to you. On top of the covers. Fully clothed. Like he was ready to run at any moment.
You curled into him. Pressed your face against his chest.
He didn't push you away.
"Thank you," you whispered.
"Go to sleep."
"I'm sorry I freaked out at the party."
"Don't worry about it."
"I'm sorry I called you."
"It’s fine. M’fine."
"I'm sorry for everything."
"Just sleep."
You wanted to say more. Wanted to tell him everything you'd been holding in for two months. But your body was giving out. The alcohol was pulling you under.
So you closed your eyes.
And let yourself fall asleep in his arms.
Hours later, you stirred.
The bed was cold.
You reached out. He wasn't there.
You opened your eyes.
The door was cracked open. Light from the hallway spilled through.
And there he was. Standing in the doorway. His hand on the frame. His back to you.
He was leaving.
You opened your mouth. Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Do you think we'll ever find our way back to each other?"
He froze.
For a long moment, he didn't move. Didn't speak.
You watched the tension in his shoulders. Watched his hand grip the doorframe tighter.
Then he spoke.
"I think we'll always find our way back to each other."
Your heart cracked open.
"I love you," you whispered.
He didn't turn around.
"Get some sleep, sweet girl."
He walked out.
The door clicked shut.
And for the second time in two months, you were alone.
a/n- i sorry.
𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 🐒- @ilovematthewsturniolo1 @macey007 @mattsfavpervert @elixhtrnz @chrisssiren
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