Walk Away h.s punk/au

Chapter Twenty-Eight

a/n: the photo referenced in this chapter.

According to Aaron Dominguez there were three stages to a break up, at least that’s what his parents’ therapist told him. Stage one was the crying phase. I was quite familiar with this particular stage, having cried for a solid eight hours while being held by Nick. Aaron played with my hair, braiding strands as I continued to shake and cry into Nick’s chest. The crying phase lasted the day it happened and the day after. I didn’t leave my bed the second day of the crying phase. I stayed exactly where Nick had placed me, right on Harry’s side. His masculine scent hung heavily over me, making me miss and yearn for him more than I already had been. The second day of crying was the worst because I went through it alone.

After the crying phase, according to the marriage counselor was the angry phase. For me, the angry phase was quite thrilling. It started on the third day, when I woke up and my eyes hurt. I had exhausted all me tears and could no longer cry. Glancing around my room the only thing that stuck out as being painful was a photo of Harry. It was my favorite, if I had a favorite of Harry. He had been so handsome that a bad photograph didn’t exist. I had taken it of him at dinner one day right after he got his lip pierced. He looked so innocent despite his ink that I couldn’t resist taking a photo. What started as my lock screen was eventually printed off and framed. Now it haunted me, mocking to me that he was never happy with me. A rush of adrenaline later and it was shattered on the floor, lying in its bed of broken glass. That should’ve been enough, but then I was the records he had left here. I shattered the Bob Dylan one first because I could never like Bob Dylan. The 1975 reminded me of sex and how I wasn’t the only one, so it was promptly thrown out the window. By the end of the stack I saved the Fall Out Boy and Paramore because they hadn’t done anything personally, and the Rolling Stones ones because they were my band long before Harry came along and nothing could change that. Shatter glass and vinyl weren’t satisfying enough. I crossed the floor to my closet, accidently slicing my foot on glass and cursing the mother of whatever deity came to mind. I recovered though, grabbing my scissors and prom dress. Several cuts later I had a new crop top and skirt. But I was still angry. I hadn’t talked to Nick or Aaron in two days at this point, but they had what I needed. It might have been rude to just barge in, but I was pissed off and thought a dramatic flair was appropriate. The two were casually drinking beers on the couch, surprised at the sight of me. I let myself in, closing their door. There it was the crown jewel, the dart board. I tacked Harry’s photo from the frame, because why should I let it rest in peace, and unleashed hell upon it. The momentum was soon lost and I slowly slipped back into stage one, crying silently. Aaron never said the stages could mix together, but they did. Harry should be here helping to pick up the pieces, but instead of him catching me, Nick Sanchez grabbed me before I fell.

The third stage was numbness. Numbness was quite possibly the worst because I had already cried, and the anger was gone, but I was still here. My shell was intact but I was broken. If I wasn’t afraid of my mother unleashing the wrath of God upon me, I would wonder what it would be like to die. If being physically dead was the same as being emotionally dead. I could hear her now going on about how stupid and selfish that was, but was it really? Cheating was selfish. Lying was selfish. Love was not selfish. And if you couldn’t love yourself, what could you love? Self-love was most important, or that’s what the Dominguez Family therapist said. I must say whoever they were knew a fair bit about what was real. I became a zombie, struggling through work and wandering around campus. School started in five days and yet here I was. I knew where my classes were and my schedule and lucky for me three days a week were in class, meaning I had a solid three to drown myself in whatever I could find and one day to recover. This provided no feeling though. I still felt empty and worthless. So I bought a bottle whiskey and went home. Nick and Aaron were doing their laundry which meant they were doing mine because I couldn’t be bothered to do my own.