I wish I hated you

21. Fast.

Louis

Running away from something you've been chasing for so long feels illegal. Like you've wasted all your fucking time for nothing.

It's the same feeling you get when you spill coffee on important papers.

Your plans are suddenly ruined and you can do nothing but see where some new road leads you.

The initial plan I had is now no longer realistic to go through with. I can't - I won't - hurt Chanel.

Her mother just left her and she needs someone. I might not be the right person but I will stay by her side until she's somewhat okay mentally.

When I saw the fresh cut on her wrist, I felt my heart sink. Was I the one who pushed her over the edge and made her do it?

What caused her to do it?

I felt guilty even though I'm still not sure if I had anything to do with it. Maybe I took things too far. Or was it because of her mother's current situation?

Catherine told me about how Chanel was doing and I immediately felt like shit because I don't know what is going on and I don't know how to make it better.

I feel powerless and the only thing I can do is express how much I care about my 'enemy'. Yeah, I do care about her. I knew it the moment I started worrying about the small details in her life that make it horrible and I tried thinking about ways to help her.

I'm not sure what we are right now. And quite frankly, I don't know what I want 'us' to be.

My skilled fingers hit different notes on the piano. I slowly lose myself in the music as I try to think about anything that doesn't involve Chanel or my family.

The darkness surrounding me creates an environment in which I feel safe. I guess the moon decided not to shine bright tonight.

I'll have to leave this place soon. I smile at the thought. I'll finally be able to live my dream, away from here.

Soon, everything will change. Soft lips. I'll be on my own, living my best life. Delicate skin. My freedom will be endless. Sparkly eyes. Everyone will be proud of me. Vanilla perfume.

"Fuck," I say under my breath. Shifting uncomfortably on the wooden bench, my gaze travels to my balcony.

I can't believe she's getting in my head.

It was a mistake to kiss her, even though I don't regret it because she tasted so fucking good.

She stayed home for the last two days since she was sick. And as much as I hate to admit it, I missed seeing her angelic face.

So angelic, it pisses me off.

Now that I know she doesn't want to kill me and I don't want to kill her, I don't know how to act. Getting too close could be dangerous and cutting her off isn't an option because I want the comfort and the intimacy.

I slam my hands on the piano keys and sigh. This is killing me. I have responsibilities, I can't get more distracted than I already am.

My phone vibrates with a new notification every once in a while, reminding me that time hasn't stopped and I'm still sitting here, doing absolutely nothing. I'm wasting my time because of her.

My jaw clenches and a familiar built up starts forming in my chest. I jog all the way to the basement. I push open the door to the gym. It doesn't take me long to decide what I'm going to do. I stride over to the boxing bag and immediately start punching the shit out of it. Each hit causes a painful shock in my hands and forearms.