His Soft Spot

Breakdown

It always starts off like every other single boring day in my life, I get up, get dressed, eat, brush my teeth, face wash, toner, moisturizer, sunscreen, hair... blah, blah, blah. Same old, same old boring shit. But sometimes it hits you like a brick and other times it slowly creeps up on you until finally boo bitch! It hits you really hard and that's only because you've been suppressing it all with mental notes, lists and schedules. Tapping feet, fingers and legs. Hand sanitiser, clammy hands and scratching hair. Just me? I thought so too.

Today, I felt like I had slept in for 24 years hours, I droop around all morning, during my first class, even in front of my friends, with the flick of a wrist I blame it on being tired. Now we all know that's a lie. Sometime between the bell going and being knocked very hard by someone. I just gave up, the library was yet another one of my safe places.

So, the library is where I sit at the current time. Already knowing how much I am going to regret skipping class, my teachers love me so, I know I'll get away with it. I sit there, for the most part glaring at the way too loud ac. Sorting all my thoughts into folders, as you go further and further it gets more intricate, first positive and negative, then sad and happy, then angry and excited and I think you get the gist, so on and so forth. Honestly, if you took one look in my brain you would run, I know for sure I would. And don't get me started on the movie theatre that constantly plays past memories that I would rather forget.

The bell rings for an absurd amount of time to notify students of period six commencing. I grab out my phone and go into snapchat. The only camera I can stand to look at my face on. I take one look at my face. Perfect! I am so accustomed to hiding when I cry that I don't look like I've just bawled my eyes out for the past fifty minutes, pushing a grin on my face I push myself off my ass and head for the door.

The cold air helps to cool down my face and I take it in before I have to walk into a a classroom smelling of body odor. I shudder at the thought. Then I make the short walk over to my math classroom. I walk in just as the last student enters the door, meaning I've missed out on my usual seat. I look around the classroom where an empty seat is only present next to Dylan. He holds a toothpick between his teeth and is sending smirks to a girl across the room. Typical. I roll my eyes and take the seat at the back of the classroom.

The smile is wiped straight off Dylan's face when he sees me, I send him a questioning look, "Are you okay?" I nod in response, am I that obvious? "You don't seem it," he reads my face, there's no way he could tell I just had a full fletched breakdown, right?

"I'm alright." well if I wasn't obvious before, that just gave it all away, "Couldn't make it any more obvious Alya," I roll my eyes, "Whatever Dylan."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong-"

"I think spending a whole period of class crying means something is up."

"How do you know?"

"Come on did you forget I'm Dylan Grey Hale, how could I not know?"

I nod my head that is true he get what he wants and knows what he wants.

"Doesn't matter, you need to focus in class today otherwise all my hard work will go to waste," he smirks at me, "don't worry I won't let all you hard work be diminished."

I nod, "Good."

"You can always talk-"

"Don't get sappy on me Dylan, we all know that isn't your scene," he nods and leans back in his chair, "I hear you Alya don't worry."

But how naïve I am to think that the breakdown is just going to end like that. Someone really set loose to the flood gates. The tears lay on the edge of my eyes daring to escape at any given moment. All of this because what I care about a grade? About a boy? About how loud that person tapping their pencil is? The feel of my hands? How dirty they feel? I frantically search my pencil case for my hand sanitiser, I clearly disturb Dylan by all the noise as he looks over at me, "Sorry," I whisper not shifting my view off my pencil case.

I quickly pull it out and spread it over my hands, the feeling of relief that my hands feel that smallest bit less yuck. I can feels Dylan's eyes piercing daggers in my side.

"I'm fine, really we all have our ups and downs," I can't convince him, but it's not my job to. I get back to my work because I can't afford to let any more time slip away from me as I already have a whole period of class to catch up on.

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A bit of a shorter chapter but it was filled with a lot more description. Hopefully now you can understand a bit more of Alya and her struggles.