Money
Broke & Broken
- Local time
- Tomorrow 6:13 AM
- Messages
- 4
- Age
- 23
Fletcher
"Are you crying?"
I felt my heart drumming so loudly, my ears were about to explode from the vibrations. I was turned away from him, yet I could feel his sharp gaze burning my back. For a moment, our bedroom was engulfed in grave silence, except for the sound of my whimpering. In a shaky motion, I brought my hand to my cheek, using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe the the salty teardrops that I could taste on my lips. The taste of them reminded me of my unforgiving reality.
"I'm sorry..." I choked, unable to say it loud enough for him to hear, but I knew he understood nevertheless. I still didn't find the guts to face him, so I buried my face into my pillow for a good five seconds, praying that maybe I would feel my whirlwind of emotions escape my body... They didn't. Instead, I could only feel the tension escalating further.
Ambrose still didn't say a word. If I wasn't so paralysed with fear, I would have asked him why. I could feel guilt and shame climbing its way up to my throat, clawing on the inside of it, restraining me with excruciating pain every time I tried to speak, every time I tried to explain myself.
Finally, I released my grip off of the pillow; the waterworks from my eyes seemingly having stopped for good. It was dark, fortunately, so I managed to turn over very slowly to face Ambrose. I kept my eyes closed, as if it served as a shield from his stare. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was staring at me. I had memorised his that stare of his, the one he gave me when he was frustrated.
"It's him, isn't it?"
Even though the looming confrontation with Ambrose scared me, I was still relieved to hear his voice. His silence had been torturous, and every part of me was crumbling at that moment. I just needed him to keep talking so that I would have some form of validation, some form of comfort. His voice was laced with utmost bitterness, but at that moment, it was music to my ears. It was almost like I knew that I wouldn't be hearing that deep, raspy voice of his for too long which was why I wanted to hear every last bit of it.
Absent-mindedly, I nodded in response to his question. It wasn't like he could see the nod, but he didn't need to see it either way. I could tell he knew. Obviously, he knew. He knew it from the first moment he kissed me, from the first time we slept together, from the first date he brought me on. He knew he wasn't number one, but he still tried.
Suddenly, the emotions that had died down started to spiral again. I felt my heart turning heavy, my body turning numb as tears started to stream down my cheeks again. This time, I began to cry, louder and louder. It was almost like my emotions were climbing out of the chamber that I had locked them in for so long.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered this time, in between cries, much louder than before.
Ambrose
"It's him, isn't it?"
Just saying those words felt like biting into a lemon. I could taste the bile in my mouth and feel the dryness in my throat as I spoke. I was so caught up in my frustration, I never realised when my fists were clenched and when my jaw was clenched so tight. I exhaled slowly, trying my best to release the tension I had been holding inside of me.
Part of me wanted to scream, shout and tear Fletcher into shreds. How could he? He had promised me that he would do his best to make things work, he had promised me that he would make me his number one priority; he had promised. Part of me wanted to take a knife and jab it into my own stomach, because that's how cruel it felt when I realised, in that very moment I heard Fletcher crying, that he wasn't mine anymore - and he never would be.
After bouquets and dinner dates, passionate nights and intimate discussions, Fletcher's heart was still out of my grasp. He was still a mile away from me, even though we slept on the same bed. It then occurred to me that this wasn't the first night that Fletcher hadn't been thinking about me. It had always been that way. I felt my heart sink when I realised that the man weeping in front of me had never once loved me the way I loved him. And god, I wished I was the one he was crying for.
I was so close to throwing a fit, until it occured to me that Fletcher wasn't to blame. He had never been the one to blame. If there was anyone at fault, it was me. I was the third person. I was the one who had the misconception that I was Fletcher's forever, when in reality I was only a temporary fix. Fletcher was just as broken as I was, and to blame him would be cruel. Perhaps it was his brokenness that attracted me to him, and now it was his brokenness that was pulling us apart. How complicated and cruel love could be.
"I-It's okay," I was shocked to hear the words leave my mouth. They were affectionate, they were kind, and they stung when they passed through my lips, but with every heart beat, I could only think of one thing: I didn't want to see Fletcher in pain anymore. "Fletch, it's not your fault. It really isn't. I mean..."
I felt tears rolling down my cheek. The silhouette of his body that I could see earlier was now blurry. All I could see was a dark mess of colours, which sort of represented what was going on inside my head. "How could I blame you for seeing Gareth in me?" The 'G' word. It hurt me to say it. I felt the repercussions of saying that name as my tongue started to ache and my lungs started to feel compressed.
"How could I blame you for wanting to find his love in me?" I continued, keeping my voice as still as possible. I didn't want him to know I was crying. "I'm the stupid one, really. I thought that the warmth in your eyes was meant for me, but it was meant for the him you saw in me."
"N-no, don't say that!" Fletcher cried out, wanting to interrupt. Before I knew it, I felt heat against my body, and two arms wrapping around my back. I could feel his cheek against my neck, moist from his tears. His breath was hot, and every muscle in his body was tense. I felt myself frozen at that point of time. His touch made me so weak, and it took every fibre in my body to grab his hands and pull them off of my body. I could feel him gasp softly in shock; he didn't expect my reaction.
"It's the truth, Fletcher. It always has been. I've always been the second option, and that's okay," I managed to say, a little disappointed that my body felt cold once again after he was forced off of me. "I-I'll be okay." This time, my voice cracked as I spoke. I mentally cursed myself for letting it happen, and I quickly wiped my tears. I pushed myself off of the bed, sitting upright and finding my shirt on the dresser and pulling it over my shoulders.
"No you won't, Ambrose. I need you!" Fletcher whispered, even though it sounded more like a cry. I could see him sitting up beside me, and I felt a hand on mine. Once again, it was warm. I shook it off, getting off the bed in a hurry. I found my way towards the bedroom door, turning around to look at Fletcher one last time. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was broken.
"Don't call me, Fletcher. Please don't. I hope you and Gareth sort it out."
I couldn't believe how firmly the words left my mouth. A part of me wished I showed some form of hesitance, so that Fletcher would try to stop me. But no, he didn't. The longest moment of my life was me walking out of his dark apartment, hoping he would run out of the bedroom door and stop me. He didn't. My heart broke more and more, with every step I took towards the door. Every moment without him reaffirmed my decision to leave.
The moment I walked out onto the street, though, I felt my body collapse. I fell onto my knees, my mind completely empty. For a moment, all I could hear was the echoes of our conversation. I closed eyes, my mind unable to process anything that was going on. It was almost like the world around me had completely collapsed. There was nothing left for me to walk on or rely on. I was alone.
Or rather, I had always been alone. But now, I really felt it. That night, in the empty street, where I had left my universe behind in a small studio apartment, I could see just how alone I was. And it was terrifying.
"Are you crying?"
I felt my heart drumming so loudly, my ears were about to explode from the vibrations. I was turned away from him, yet I could feel his sharp gaze burning my back. For a moment, our bedroom was engulfed in grave silence, except for the sound of my whimpering. In a shaky motion, I brought my hand to my cheek, using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe the the salty teardrops that I could taste on my lips. The taste of them reminded me of my unforgiving reality.
"I'm sorry..." I choked, unable to say it loud enough for him to hear, but I knew he understood nevertheless. I still didn't find the guts to face him, so I buried my face into my pillow for a good five seconds, praying that maybe I would feel my whirlwind of emotions escape my body... They didn't. Instead, I could only feel the tension escalating further.
Ambrose still didn't say a word. If I wasn't so paralysed with fear, I would have asked him why. I could feel guilt and shame climbing its way up to my throat, clawing on the inside of it, restraining me with excruciating pain every time I tried to speak, every time I tried to explain myself.
Finally, I released my grip off of the pillow; the waterworks from my eyes seemingly having stopped for good. It was dark, fortunately, so I managed to turn over very slowly to face Ambrose. I kept my eyes closed, as if it served as a shield from his stare. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was staring at me. I had memorised his that stare of his, the one he gave me when he was frustrated.
"It's him, isn't it?"
Even though the looming confrontation with Ambrose scared me, I was still relieved to hear his voice. His silence had been torturous, and every part of me was crumbling at that moment. I just needed him to keep talking so that I would have some form of validation, some form of comfort. His voice was laced with utmost bitterness, but at that moment, it was music to my ears. It was almost like I knew that I wouldn't be hearing that deep, raspy voice of his for too long which was why I wanted to hear every last bit of it.
Absent-mindedly, I nodded in response to his question. It wasn't like he could see the nod, but he didn't need to see it either way. I could tell he knew. Obviously, he knew. He knew it from the first moment he kissed me, from the first time we slept together, from the first date he brought me on. He knew he wasn't number one, but he still tried.
Suddenly, the emotions that had died down started to spiral again. I felt my heart turning heavy, my body turning numb as tears started to stream down my cheeks again. This time, I began to cry, louder and louder. It was almost like my emotions were climbing out of the chamber that I had locked them in for so long.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered this time, in between cries, much louder than before.
Ambrose
"It's him, isn't it?"
Just saying those words felt like biting into a lemon. I could taste the bile in my mouth and feel the dryness in my throat as I spoke. I was so caught up in my frustration, I never realised when my fists were clenched and when my jaw was clenched so tight. I exhaled slowly, trying my best to release the tension I had been holding inside of me.
Part of me wanted to scream, shout and tear Fletcher into shreds. How could he? He had promised me that he would do his best to make things work, he had promised me that he would make me his number one priority; he had promised. Part of me wanted to take a knife and jab it into my own stomach, because that's how cruel it felt when I realised, in that very moment I heard Fletcher crying, that he wasn't mine anymore - and he never would be.
After bouquets and dinner dates, passionate nights and intimate discussions, Fletcher's heart was still out of my grasp. He was still a mile away from me, even though we slept on the same bed. It then occurred to me that this wasn't the first night that Fletcher hadn't been thinking about me. It had always been that way. I felt my heart sink when I realised that the man weeping in front of me had never once loved me the way I loved him. And god, I wished I was the one he was crying for.
I was so close to throwing a fit, until it occured to me that Fletcher wasn't to blame. He had never been the one to blame. If there was anyone at fault, it was me. I was the third person. I was the one who had the misconception that I was Fletcher's forever, when in reality I was only a temporary fix. Fletcher was just as broken as I was, and to blame him would be cruel. Perhaps it was his brokenness that attracted me to him, and now it was his brokenness that was pulling us apart. How complicated and cruel love could be.
"I-It's okay," I was shocked to hear the words leave my mouth. They were affectionate, they were kind, and they stung when they passed through my lips, but with every heart beat, I could only think of one thing: I didn't want to see Fletcher in pain anymore. "Fletch, it's not your fault. It really isn't. I mean..."
I felt tears rolling down my cheek. The silhouette of his body that I could see earlier was now blurry. All I could see was a dark mess of colours, which sort of represented what was going on inside my head. "How could I blame you for seeing Gareth in me?" The 'G' word. It hurt me to say it. I felt the repercussions of saying that name as my tongue started to ache and my lungs started to feel compressed.
"How could I blame you for wanting to find his love in me?" I continued, keeping my voice as still as possible. I didn't want him to know I was crying. "I'm the stupid one, really. I thought that the warmth in your eyes was meant for me, but it was meant for the him you saw in me."
"N-no, don't say that!" Fletcher cried out, wanting to interrupt. Before I knew it, I felt heat against my body, and two arms wrapping around my back. I could feel his cheek against my neck, moist from his tears. His breath was hot, and every muscle in his body was tense. I felt myself frozen at that point of time. His touch made me so weak, and it took every fibre in my body to grab his hands and pull them off of my body. I could feel him gasp softly in shock; he didn't expect my reaction.
"It's the truth, Fletcher. It always has been. I've always been the second option, and that's okay," I managed to say, a little disappointed that my body felt cold once again after he was forced off of me. "I-I'll be okay." This time, my voice cracked as I spoke. I mentally cursed myself for letting it happen, and I quickly wiped my tears. I pushed myself off of the bed, sitting upright and finding my shirt on the dresser and pulling it over my shoulders.
"No you won't, Ambrose. I need you!" Fletcher whispered, even though it sounded more like a cry. I could see him sitting up beside me, and I felt a hand on mine. Once again, it was warm. I shook it off, getting off the bed in a hurry. I found my way towards the bedroom door, turning around to look at Fletcher one last time. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was broken.
"Don't call me, Fletcher. Please don't. I hope you and Gareth sort it out."
I couldn't believe how firmly the words left my mouth. A part of me wished I showed some form of hesitance, so that Fletcher would try to stop me. But no, he didn't. The longest moment of my life was me walking out of his dark apartment, hoping he would run out of the bedroom door and stop me. He didn't. My heart broke more and more, with every step I took towards the door. Every moment without him reaffirmed my decision to leave.
The moment I walked out onto the street, though, I felt my body collapse. I fell onto my knees, my mind completely empty. For a moment, all I could hear was the echoes of our conversation. I closed eyes, my mind unable to process anything that was going on. It was almost like the world around me had completely collapsed. There was nothing left for me to walk on or rely on. I was alone.
Or rather, I had always been alone. But now, I really felt it. That night, in the empty street, where I had left my universe behind in a small studio apartment, I could see just how alone I was. And it was terrifying.