A/N: This is a bit off path from my regular kind of thing. I wanted to try something different. I was really inspired by the song Hate Me Too by Emily Burns. I feel like this fic is more “adult” (and no I don’t mean smut, that rule is still in place lol) than my others. I hope you like it!
**
I need you.
Laughter echoed around you as your friends went about their conversations, blissfully unaware of the turmoil boiling inside you. Should you stay? Should you go? Like there was even really a choice.
The last time this happened, you told yourself that you would be strong, that you would pretend that you never saw the stupid text and that you were having too much of a good time with people who cared about you to want to leave. But the pull was always nearly impossible to resist.
You hardly remembered what life was like before you met him. Did you actually make it through Friday nights having fun with your friends without constantly jumping each time your phone buzzed in your pocket? Were you able to go home without disappointment because you didn’t hear from him?
You yearned for those days that you couldn’t remember, like standing in front of an Ansel Adams photograph and longing to be walking along the lakeshore. You had no understanding of what that experience was actually like, but you ached for it anyway.
Often, you searched for a way to sever the cord that kept you tied to him. You searched for a cure, but there didn’t seem to be one. Not for when you were addicted to another human being.
“Hey!”
A napkin made contact with your face, finally pulling you away from the glowing screen of your phone. It took will power – more than you thought you had – but you managed to put your phone down, blacking out the screen so no one would accidentally see the text. You looked at your friend innocently. “Yeah?”
Your friends stared at you with genuine concern. It had been like a switch with you, going from actively being in the conversation to completely silent. This time with your friends, the drinks and dinner, was almost enough to make you completely forget about him. You were having fun again. How quickly the tides turned.
“You kind of spaced out there for a second,” one of your friends explained. She narrowed her eyes at you, tilting her head as if she were examining a confusing, abstract sculpture and a new perspective would give her some enlightenment. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Um, y-” Your phone buzzed, the lit up screen stealing your attention.
Please?
The shattering of your willpower echoed in your ears.
“No, actually, I think the seafood and wine combination was a bad idea,” you lied, already digging out your wallet. Taking out some cash, you put it down on the table and stood up. “I really think I should go home. I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin your guys’ night.”
“No, no!” One of your other friends exclaimed. “Go home. We’ll be fine. Feel better, okay?”
Her concern was only making your guilt feel worse. Maybe the guilty churning of your stomach would become an actual illness. Then you’d have a true excuse not to go see him.
But as you waved goodbye to your friends and stood outside the restaurant, waiting for your ride to come, the guilt slowly dissolved away. In its place, that familiar buzz of excitement. He’d asked for you. He’d given you the same line he gave every time, this time adding a please. You were so easy.
The car pulled up only two minutes later and you slid into the back, resting your head against the window. Your eyes didn’t focus on anything – not the street lights or the storefronts or the couples along the sidewalk. Your mind, however, was focused on him.
Zhang Yixing was quite possibly the sweetest man you’d ever met. There was nothing special about your clandestine meeting. No meet-cute through spilled coffee or mixed up luggage. He was simply an acquaintance of one of your friends. His smile, though, was enough to draw you in. You could almost say that you had a crush since the very beginning.
The times he appeared to meet up with the group were infrequent and scattered. It didn’t matter, though, your heart still fluttered each time you saw him. And there were times that gave you hope that your feelings weren’t completely one-sided. The looks he would flash your way, the smiles, the light touches. You thought it was the beginning of something wonderful, the kind of love story you could tell your grandchild.
So how did it end up like this?
No, really. You didn’t know.
The first time something happened between you, the two of you had been drinking with the group. It was a blur how the two of you got back to your apartment, but you certainly remembered what happened after you walked through the door. Your high from the encounter, however, did not last long.
You woke up to find Yixing tying up his shoes at the end of your bed. Before you could say anything, he threw you a wink, a smile and left. The sun wasn’t even beginning to peek out yet and he was already gone. Things only spiraled down from there.
No matter how many times you racked your head against a wall, you couldn’t figure out how that one night turned into this constant game. He never sent you good morning texts or asked you how your day was. Weeks could go by with nothing but silence from his end. Then, with no warning or explanation, he would call or text, usually something along the lines of him needing you or that he was sad or lonely, asking you to come cure his ailment. You were so easy he didn’t need to put any effort into reeling you back in. All he had to do was poke at that tiny flame of hope that this might possibly one day become something a little more.
You had the driver stop at the end of the street. A weird habit you’d developed sometime near the beginning of all of this. For some reason, you liked the nuance of walking down the street to the faded blue door. You could take those extra steps to prepare yourself, to calm yourself down. It was better to face him as neutral as possible. You didn’t want him to see the small amount of excitement he brought you, how happy you were when he called for you.
God, you must be so pathetic to him. Like a puppy to its owner, you came running with your tail wagging.
Raising up your fist, you knocked softly against the blue door and waited. The paint was bleached out from the sun. It could use a new coat of paint. New spots where the top coat was chipping had appeared since your last visit.
About a minute the door swung open. Not a single syllable of “hello” was able to get out before you were being pulled into the darkness. Your shoulder blades stung from being shoved into the door, but that was only a minor thought in the back of your head as Yixing covered your lips with his. So soft, so sweet. As quickly and aggressive as he’d pulled you in, his touches were soft, like how you’d hold the person you loved.
If only he actually loved you.
**
It was three o’clock in the morning and yet you weren’t the least bit tired. Yixing was in the kitchen getting himself a glass of water as you shoved your foot into your boot. The two of you had had a short conversation about your lives lately (mostly prompted by you asking how he was), but it was seemingly over now. By the time you were standing up and slipping into your jacket, Yixing was waiting for you. He saw you to his door, that same intoxicating smile on his face. You never spent the night. That was one of the unspoken rules between the two of you. They were never written down or even verbally agreed upon; they simply were met.
You didn’t spend the night. He contacted you first. You didn’t tell your friends about him. You always came over to his place.
Most of them were for his convenience, but it wasn’t like you argued or pushed for anything that benefited you. The best thing would be to leave this. What a charming notion.
“Let me know that you got home safe,” he said softly. You never did, but he still said it every time. Acting like he cared was another one of his tricks that you fell for so easily.
Staring at him in the dim light from the street lamps outside - hindered mostly by the heavy curtains in front of the window – you wondered what would happen if you really did text him saying you’d made it back to your place without incident. Would he care? Would he send you a text back or tell you good night? Or would he ignore your message? Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Sure,” you lied. And like he always did, he placed a kiss upon your cheek before opening up the door to the waiting car outside. The place where his lips met your skin still stung, still vibrated from the contact.
“Good night,” he waved before shutting the door behind you.
You hardly looked at the driver as he took you home. You didn’t want to meet his eyes and feel the judgement rolling out of them. What else could be going on when a girl leaves a guy’s place so early in the morning, hair disheveled, guy shirtless, and a glassy look in her gaze?
Up the short porch steps you ran once you were back on solid ground. Your fingers shook as you struggled to find the right key to let you unlock the door. Inside the safety of your own walls where you could be alone, where you could breathe again.
The darkness engulfed you again once your feet hit the carpet of your living room. This time, there was no one waiting for you. There was no one here to embrace you. Only the empty feeling of loneliness was left to crush you.
Taking out your phone, you typed out “Made it safely”. Your eyes flickered to Yixing’s previous texts. You deleted your message and threw your phone across the room. It landed safely on the couch, the only good thing to happen to you tonight.
Under the heel of all your poor decisions, you crumbled to the floor. You’d managed to hold yourself together the whole way home, but now you let it all out, the sounds of your sobs your only company.
**
It’d been two weeks since you heard from Yixing. Surprisingly, you were doing fine. You hadn’t cried since that night. Once your tears dried up, you picked yourself up, stripped out of your clothes and fell asleep alone in your bed of cold sheets.
Now you were okay. You weren’t sure what happened that night, but something in you snapped. You didn’t constantly check your phone or think about him or fight with yourself on whether or not to contact him. Instead, you focused on work. You spent more time with your friends. You didn’t fake an illness or lock yourself up night after night in your apartment, coming up with excuses not to join anyone for dinner or a movie. You were living, like you were meant to be.
At the moment, you were wandering through a clothing store, stopping and looking at any piece that caught your eye. Your friend was complaining about her boss while she, too, shifted through the round rack of shirts.
“It’s just so annoying,” your friend grumbled as she picked up a shirt, held it against herself and then put it back, shaking her head. “Like, if you’re in charge, you shouldn’t say one thing is the standard policy and then go change your mind on every account. How are we supposed to accomplish anything that way?”
“Have you said anything about it?” you asked.
“No. Right now, venting about it is easier. But soon I’m go- hey, Yixing!”
You froze, a sheet of ice covering you almost instantaneously, seeping down into your veins. How could he be here? Why was he here?
“Hi!” His voice was cheerful, the exact opposite of how you were feeling.
Slowly, you turned around to face him. There was no smile on your face, especially after you caught his. It was the same polite, distant yet dimpled smile. The kind that was given to acquaintances, not someone you knew intimately. And he did know you, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. He knew every inch of your skin. He knew who you were when everything else was stripped away. The things you’d confessed to him, revealed to him before your nights together was over. That smile that kept up the wall was a betrayal you couldn’t even begin to verbalize.
“Hi, (y/n),” he greeted.
You waved halfheartedly. “Hey.”
Your friend sent you a curious look given your sudden change in demeanor, but she shrugged her curiosity away. “What are you up to, Yixing?”
“Just out buying a gift,” he said mysteriously.
“Ooo, for a girl,” your friend teased. An innocent enough joke. To you, though, it was just another twist in the knife.
“No, no,” Yixing laughed. “For my mom.”
You hated his laugh.
No, you didn’t. You loved it. The childlike way the giggles would vibrate in his throat, the way his nose scrunched and his smile grew to reveal the second, hidden dimple on his other cheek. It lit him up like the famous New York City New Year’s Eve ball that dropped at midnight. Truly, he might even shine brighter.
What you really hated was yourself. You hated how much you loved the details of him. The way he titled his head when he was listening intently. The strange way his face hardened and sharpened when he frowned or put tension in his forehead. As soon as he smiled again, everything softened, rounding out his features into that boy-next-door look that fit him so well.
You loved the expressions on his face when he was excited or surprised. His eyes would grow big and he’d look around in disbelief. When he cooked, he seemed so relaxed and concentrated at the same time. While his food wasn’t anything worth wild, you counted yourself lucky that you were able to experience a dinner or two made by him.
This boy could be playful, teasing in ways that weren’t cruel. Sometimes when you told a joke, it took him a minute or two before he would get it. The gradual transition in his features as the answer dawned on him was one you could watch for an eternity.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” your friend smiled.
“It’s her birthday soon,” Yixing said. He kept his attention on your friend as if you weren’t even there.
“I’m going to run to the restroom real quick.” You didn’t even wait to see if your friend caught your lame excuse to get out of there. You needed to leave. Thinking about him in that way… well, you didn’t want to have a breakdown in the middle of the t-shirt section. You didn’t give Yixing a second glance as you left the store.
It took you a few minutes to find the bathrooms. In this mall they were located down a somewhat eerie hallway, but for once you weren’t concerned about that factor. You just needed a place to hide out. As rude as it was, you took the biggest stall, locking the flimsy door and sliding down to the floor.
You couldn’t keep going on like this. This wasn’t fair to you. While he could freely go about his day without the slightest bit of harm, you were constantly hurting. Even though you could numb the pain, it always came back, burning you worse than before.
There was no other choice. You had to let him go. This hatred that resided in your heart, you were afraid it just might kill you.
**
Your friend was a little perturbed at your sudden disappearing act, but after a few apologies on your end and an excuse that everyone with a uterus could understand, she forgave you. The two of you caught dinner at one of the nearby restaurants that served generic “feel good” food, but it didn’t do much in the ways of comforting you.
In the back of your mind you were trying to decide how to break away from Yixing. Should you simply block his number? Go to his place and tell him face to face?
Turned out, you didn’t have to make that decision as he made it for you.
You were almost ready for bed. At this point, you were simply procrastinating the actually going to sleep part. Tucked into the corner of your couch with your legs folded under you, you scrolled through different social medias. Nothing of interest was happening so you locked the screen, finally ready to head to bed.
Then it happened.
The phone rang in your hand. You stared at the device as it vibrated that familiar pattern, the one that you’d set specifically for him. The sensation ran through your fingers, up your arm, and into your heart. In turn, the muscle swelled, being torn in two. Answer. Don’t answer. Answer. Don’t answer.
The call flipped over to voicemail. You let out the breath you’d been holding, leaning your head back on the couch. You did it. You actually made yourself not answer his call. But the internal celebration didn’t last long before he was calling again. He had never done that in the past – called you back to back – so your self-control was suddenly depleted.
Your thumb swiped on the green icon.
“Hello?”
A sigh of relief. “Hey.”
You didn’t reply.
“(y/n)?”
This time you did reply. “Yeah?”
“I’ve missed you.”
No. Don’t do that. Please, don’t say that.
“I realized that… when I saw you today. Can I see you again?”
Your throat swelled as you tried to keep your composure. Taking the phone away from your ear, you held it against your forehead. You concentrated on your breathing, keeping it even, keeping it silent. You couldn’t let him know that he was breaking you.
“I can’t.” You were surprised that you were able to find those words in your vocabulary when you put the phone back against your ear. You thought they didn’t exist when it came to him. It turned out, you really were getting stronger.
“Oh.” At least there was a small amount of disappointment in his voice. “Are you… with someone?”
“No,” you answered honestly. “I just can’t keep doing this.”
A few moments of silence on his end went by before he asked, “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, you unfurled the words that had lingered too long inside. “I can’t keep waiting around for you to call. I can’t keep hoping that maybe someday you’ll see me more than just something to help you feel less lonely. Because I’m lonelier than ever. I can’t keep letting you break my heart. Soon I won’t have anything less. So, no, Yixing, I can’t come over. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever again. I’m sorry.”
“(y/n), wait-”
You hung up quickly, before he could honey up the words it would take to pull you back in. With shaking hands, you went through the motions it would take to block his number. He was out of your life for good now.
So, why didn’t you feel relieved?
**
It’d been nearly a month since you said goodbye to Yixing. There were still nights where silent tears would roll down your cheeks. There were still times you would check your phone for missed calls or unread text messages, forgetting that you’d block any communication he could have with you. You were still weak, but as time went on, you found that picking up the pieces of your broken heart was becoming easier. The shards didn’t leave behind as many cuts on your fingers. Soon, you might be whole again, healed.
Your friends had noticed a change in you, too. You were happier, they said. When they asked what changed, you simply shrugged and shook your head. “It just happened, I guess.”
Tonight, you could really say that you were happy.
You were looking forward to a night out, hopping from bar to bar with your friends in tow. As you got ready, you found yourself smiling. There were no worries as to who you might run into or what excuse you might need to make a quick getaway. The rideshare app on your phone was only to be used to get you from different establishments, not anyone’s residence but your own. The blue door no longer haunted your dreams. You weren’t completely okay. You weren’t completely over it. That would take time. But you were hating yourself a little less. You were stronger than you thought. And that was worth smiling about.
A majority of your friends were already at the bar, given the amount of “Where are you?!” texts you’d received. You were quietly laughing at the group chat as you walked inside. They were all together and yet they still insisted on texting you separately. Following their directions, you made your way to the back of the bar where they said they were seated. But it wasn’t just your friends waiting for you.
Yixing was standing beside your mutual friend who was seated at the table. He seemed fine, engaging in conversation as if he wasn’t affected by your absence at all. Just like normal.
So focused on him, you didn’t see the poor waiter coming towards you with a tray of empty glasses until it was too late. The glass toppled down to the floor, the shattering sounds catching everyone’s attention.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Immediately, you bent down to help the waiter with the mess you’d made. He tried to tell you that it was alright and that you didn’t need to help, but you didn’t listen.
A third pair of familiar hands came into view.
Knowing that it was the wrong thing to do, you looked up anyway. When your eyes met Yixing’s, a half smile grew on his face. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest, so much so that it was nearly painful. Each breath became shallower and your world started to tilt back and forth. Quickly, straightening up, you ran for the door, barely missing other patrons and waiters on the way out.
“(y/n), wait!”
You’d scarcely hit the pavement of the sidewalk when a hand caught yours, dragging you over to a more secluded area. As soon as he stopped, you yanked your hand out Yixing’s. The last thing you needed was take that contact and turn into something more.
“Please, just talk to me,” he begged.
“No,” you shook your head viciously. “We already talked. I told you. I can’t do this anymore.” You tried to walk away, but he jumped in front of you, blocking your path.
“I don’t want to do that anymore either.”
You stood there for a second or two, trying to decipher what he could possibly mean. “I don’t understand.”
He reached out and took your hand in his. “When I said I missed you, I meant it. I promise, I’ll do better this time around.”
“Do better?” you scoffed, pulling your hand back once again. He tried to hold on, but you were able to break his grip. “How do you plan on that? Making it a once a week thing instead of every once in a while? No, thank you. I meant it when I said I can’t do this anymore. I hate you. But what’s worse is how much I hated myself. How much I still hate me even when I thought I was getting over it. Because just when I thought I was getting over you, this happens. And I’m right back in that place. All I want is to tell you yes. But that’s not fair to me.”
Yixing blinked, letting your words sink in as his eyes slowly fell to the ground off to the side. “Please, don’t hate me. I care about you. I didn’t mean to do that to you.”
“It doesn’t matter, because you did it anyway.”
“Please, give me another chance. I want to be with you.” He stepped closer to you, meeting your eyes. He brought his hand up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made you lean into his touch. You thought of all those times he looked at you like you were something special, worth something to him.
But that was a dangerous road that led you here in the first place.
You wrapped your fingers around Yixing’s hand and gently pushed it away. “I need to think about it.” You still couldn’t tell him no. So, this was a compromise with yourself.
He seemed to accept that answer, nodding. “When you make up your mind… even if it’s to tell me to go to hell…you know where I’ll be.”
You nodded back. Then, before you completely broke down, you walked away.
For what seemed like hours you wandered around the streets, careful stay in the more populated, well lit areas while you tried to work through your own thoughts.
Did he really mean what he said? Did he really want to be with you?
He seemed sincere. Almost as broken as you were.
Back and forth the scales went, weighing the good against the bad. The heaviest consequence was your heart. The tape holding the pieces together was already beginning to peel away. You weren’t sure how much longer it would hold now that you’d seen him again. This promise being dangled in front of you… it was too good to be true. But you weren’t walking away like you should have. That would be the smart thing to do. The right thing. Each time you closed your eyes, however, you say the desperation in his face. In your ears, his pleas played over and over again.
Your feet made the decision for you.
At the end of his street, you debated. Your feet had brought you here without you realizing it so did that mean this was what your heart wanted? Were you willing to give it away completely? The chances of the same pattern beginning again were high, astronomically so.
You took a step. And then another. Again. And again. You didn’t even try to stop until you were outside his door. That blue door that used to mock you with its depressing color was now welcoming you with open arms. Your fist raised in the air, you knocked on the door, waiting patiently. The quick footsteps on the other side matched the rhythm of your heart, reigniting the hope inside.
I know all these people see the worst in me
Maybe they have a point and it's just honesty
Maybe it's all my fault, maybe I'm the reason I'm alone
Maybe I pushed away everyone by 21 to let me see them vulnerable
Didn't want this for me
No, I didn't want this for me
And you don't have to feel bad for me
My favorite thoughts are where I'm vanishing
I can act like I never really care
That many people only wanna see me bleed
Deep down, it kills me, misery loves company
Said you hate me, well congrats, I do too
Said you hate me, well congrats, I do too
I can act like I never really care
But I swear I'm scared
Sick and tired of sitting in the shower though
But what's the use? I still can't fill my own damn needs
Seeing friends changing into people I don't know
Makes me wish that I could tell the younger me
"It's gonna be okay, don't let 'em get to you
They'll parade all your flaws for the whole world to view
They'll try to change you into something they approve
It will consume every path you choose"
