Stress Relief

A Bad Feeling

Phone calls were the worst. Chase knew that when Rachel called him it meant one of three things: One; she was going to argue with him, two; she was going to ask for something, or three; she was having a breakdown and needed to vent about her emotions. Maybe once a month, if that, would they have small talk. It was hard though, when he was busy with football practice until the late hours of the evening-if one could call 6 PM by that label-and struggled to uphold his grades simultaneously. The free time he did have he would spend with his friends, whether it be all of them or a few, he loved them like family and he hated how quiet his house would get when his parents were out.

Rachel couldn't schedule something to save her life. She would always bale, always be late because she forgot, always be busy with her job, he had lost count of her excuses.

He wanted to call his relationship with her healthy. He did, but every time he said it out loud when he was beginning to have doubts, the word was as bitter as soot stuck to burnt food. He would choose something less abusive on his tongue. Great. The word was much less bitter, as compared to the truth.

"Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to make you mad-" he held back a sigh at her voice, somewhere between guilty and nervous. He hated it when she used that voice. He had just gotten done explaining why he left without notifying her, and after five seconds of silence, he heard a sniff and felt exhaustion overcome him.

"I'm not mad Rachel, I promise." Truth be told, he was a little upset. After all, it was her idea to want to meet up before his practices and when she said she couldn't meet up today, he figured he could just go about his day. What he wasn't expecting was for her to quite literally cry into his ear about him not showing up and her looking stupid. Some would call it guilt-tripping, but he knew what she did wasn't guilt-tripping because he knew her tears weren't fake.

They've been dating since the middle of summer. He had met Rachel through one of his prior friends of which they both agreed her actions were decorated with red flags. Rachel wasn't like the girls who had used him or left him for a more attractive guy or...whatever the reason. After getting to know her over a few months it became obvious how much anxiety she gained through her past relationships.

He wanted to be there for her, to show her that not all guys were bad and someone could care for her like she needed and deserved. She knew about his love life after a while too, it was messy, and he wasn't perfect, but she agreed to do the same for him too.

He has had good girlfriends here and there, but the issue was that they never lasted. They would come up to him, say they wanted to break things off because they felt like the relationship never meant much to him, and then go their separate ways.

He tried so goddamn hard to understand what they meant, but he couldn't figure it out. The relationships did mean something to him. He cared for them, he cherished the time he had with them. He loved them.

Didn't he?

"Take a deep breath, okay?" He could hear the shakiness in her voice, a cause of her hyperventilating. He waited patiently until she calmed down, and her wavered words and sobs were reduced to sniffles. "You're overthinking it, I promise you I'm not mad."

Rachel sighed from the other line. "Mad is different from upset, Chase." He leaned back in his chair, tapping a rhythm on the desk that sat in his bedroom with his blue number two pencil. He didn't know how to respond. He wasn't either, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly he was feeling.

He just felt really tired.

"I'm not upset either." He took a deep breath of his own, trying to make the lie a little easier to say. "I guess...I don't know really." His tapping stopped and he crossed his arms. "I promise though, it's okay. You don't have to worry about me."