If Time Stands Still

72- juxtapose

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Zayn's POV

"Twenty-seven..." I grit my teeth together, struggling to do my last few bicep curls, "twenty-eight... twenty-nine..."

"One more! Let's go!" Clinton claps his hands, trying to motivate me, but all it's doing is motivating me to knock him out.

"Thirty!" I put it down, shaking my arms out since it's burning, "God, this was a horrible idea."

"No, a horrible idea is selling your car so you have an excuse to stay in like a hermit." Clinton calls me out, "Man, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't... well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Extra money, I'm forced to walk and I barely went out much anyway, unless it was with her."

"Man..." he shakes his head, handing me my water bottle, "Is this what love does? If it's that, I don't ever want it."

"You're miserable regardless." I take a sip, "Love is great. Break-ups aren't. I'm just tired of feeling hurt."

"Yeah, well you brought it upon yourself, buddy. I can't even defend you there."

I frown, growing more and more irritated as this session progresses.

"Dude, you're supposed to be taking my side."

"No, I'm your friend, so I'll help you move on. That doesn't mean I'm not gonna call you out on your bullshít too."

I gulp some more water. I can't be mad at him for that. He's being a good friend instead of blindly taking my side like I thought he would. You need people to challenge you, and Clinton is great at doing that physically, but also mentally.

"You think I brought this upon myself?"

"Yeah, like you're moping around about how you were trying to prevent getting hurt, but that's your fault... You did that."

I sit back on the leg press machine, "I was trying to save us from hating each other when the long distance failed. You know how miserable I was back in undergrad."

"Aylin's isn't your other exes."

"I know that, but I kinda just gave up on LDR altogether. She would've dumped me eventually."

"Dude... aren't you the one who's all, it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?" He imitates my accent, poorly, "What happened to that? You didn't even try this time."

I clench my jaw, "I thought I'd be leaving here feeling better."

"I'm sorry. I'm being a little tough on you." He pats my back, "Let's get some leg work done."

"Clint." I stop him, "What should I do?"

He looks at me in the reflection of the wall mirror, "What do you want to do?"

"Obviously I want her, but that's not going to happen." I look down at my veiny arms, "I just want to stop feeling like shít and the only way that I'll get that right is if we were on good terms, you know?" I look up at him.

He nods.

"So what are my options?"

He sighs, "You're going to have to give her some time, bud. She needs space from you."

That's not what I wanted to hear, but he's right. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.

"She's like, eight thousand miles away. Is that not enough space?"