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“Let’s break up.”
The words pierced through the air, followed by the shattering sound. There it was, the tight squeeze within the confines of your ribs, suffocating you for what seemed like an endless time; you were frozen, although your fingers trembled with your voice stuck in your throat. It was unexpected, or rather you were simply unable to recall what could have possibly led to this moment. You stared at the man before you, who seemed so distant, so cold, so unwilling to love you as much as you did him. But why?
“I. . . I don’t understand,” you started, grasping on the thought that ran around your mind in a circuit, “Are you. . . but we were. . . I thought we were fine, Gavin?”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he averted his gaze to the city lights reflected on the river, “That’s what I thought too,” his expression seemed so non-chalant, his tone as casually as it ever was, “but I guess I just got bored.”
“You got bored--”
“It was never going to work out, anyway.” He looked at you, and you looked at him, but the warm gaze that had met you for as long as you could remember was gone.
You searched and you searched, your brows knitted together as you searched his eyes for something-- anything -- that could have explained it all. But he gave no tell, nor was he showing any form of sympathy for the hurt that he was causing you. You were speechless, your world suddenly turning dark as the stars that were shining only minutes before simply disappeared.
“I wanted to bring it up sooner rather than later, to be honest,” he said, “the idea of leading you on doesn’t sit right with me. Besides, I’m sure you’ll find someone better.”
How could he?
How could he?
Before you could stop yourself, your hand flew across in front of you and a snap echoed in your ears. A second passed by, and then another, and you took in the sight of a man whose head was turned, his cheek coloured with a handprint. You were heaving, the beating of your heart hard and loud, faster if anything. Gavin was frozen, but it was then when his stoic character broke. You saw the shock in the way his eyes had widened, his mouth agape; his gaze remained downcasted as the two of you stood there, a storm brewing inside of you.
“How could you say that?” Your question was naught but a meek whisper, one that had cracked somewhere in between, “How could you be so sure that I’ll find someone better?” Clenching your hands into fists, you took a step towards him as your vision began to blur. You knew what they were, understood the warmth that had slid against your skin, and ignored them all the while. The pain had only grew, however, a sickening feeling had placed itself on the base of your gut and resided there for the time being. Your throat had closed up despite the fact that there was more to be said, but the words would not get out.
Instead, you pounded at his chest.
Fist after fist.
“You told me that you’ll always be here for me.”
A punch.
“You said that you’ll never leave.”
A punch.
“You said that you’re the last person to ever hurt me.”
A punch.
“You said that you loved me.”
A punch.
“If you knew that we weren’t going to last...” And that was it, that was when you gripped his shirt and dropped your head, your shoulders shaking as the dam broke. You sobbed a cry, unable to say the rest of the sentence until it all became too much to hold back.
“Why did you make me fall in love with you?”
It was hurting so much, excruciatingly so. It was aching everywhere, and you didn’t know what to do but cry. Tears were coming out in controlled whimpers, your jaw tightened as you had not wanted to seem too weak had you allowed yourself to bawl it all out. You were waiting for his answer, hoping to hear something that could have lifted the weight off of you, or even feel the warmth of his embrace around you as a reassurance that he was simply joking.
Better yet, you were waiting to wake up from the nightmare.
“I’m sorry.” Was what he finally said after who knew how long.
You didn’t look at him; or rather you couldn’t. Not a moment later, you felt his calloused fingers around your wrists, taking your hands off of him as he repeated himself.
“I’m so sorry.”
He sounded far away, and you didn’t know why. You didn’t understand anything and you hated it. Had he really grown bored of you? How long did it take for him to fall out of love, whilst you were falling deeper? Had it really been that easy? Questions tormented your head and you grew tired by the second, the strength to hold on subsiding.
What did you do wrong?
“Come on, it’s late.” Gavin said.
“Did you really love me?” You asked, pushing aside the fear of the truth that rose.
You were answered with silence at first, until Gavin eventually found it in himself to answer, “Why does it matter? We’re breaking up.”
That was when you looked at him once more, “Can you look at me in the eye and tell me that you really loved me all this time? Or were you lying about everything?”
And so he did. He looked at you right there and then, letting go of your hands as he shoved his into the pockets of his leather jacket. He didn’t say anything, as if he had been attempting to figure out what to say, or how to answer you in the least. He was hesitating, and for a quick second, you saw the pain in those brown eyes of his. Was he feeling what you had been feeling?
Eventually, he turned around and said, “I’ll drive you home.”
You reached out for his arm, “Gavin!”
“Don’t,” He stopped and shook your hold away, “make this harder than it has to be.”
‘Please.’ was left unsaid, although you could have sworn that you heard it.
“Whether I loved you or not. . . it doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t. . . don’t mull over it. Just end it right here, and after tonight, forget about me.” With those final words, he continued moving forward, and helplessly, you watched as his back got further away.
At some point, you didn’t know when, Gavin became unreachable.