Paper Hearts.

dos

Brad

I fell for the way she laughed, the way she blushed and the way she was so alive. I fell for the way she spoke, the way she walked and the way her voice sounded at 3 am in the morning. I fell for the way her angels silenced my demons, and the way my angels silenced hers. I fell for the way her presence made me feel giddy and the way her absence made me feel empty.

I fell for her.

At the time I didn't mind if I lost a little part of myself every time I acted as her only working medicine, her only viable elixir. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't. I was too far under her spell, too deep under her power, that even such a trivial gesture she would have done would have kept me elated for weeks. She didn't even try. She didn't even realise. She was too broken to realise.

It wasn't her fault she was broken. To this day she wouldn't tell me why, but I knew it was a big deal. She was the pencil and I was the eraser - forever and constantly healing, fixing, and clearing her mistakes. The inevitable cycle always so persistent yet so assuring, never failing to cure all my insecurities on our relationship. She was worth the struggle.

But then something happened. She changed. She wasn't just the cheery girl I talked to everyday, or the girl who lit up at every single one of my jokes. She wasn't just the girl who brought out the real me, she became more than that. Much, much more than that. At first glance one might think she was just an average girl. To me, she was more. To me, she was special.

She let herself believe that she wasn't worth it, when she was. She couldn't see it, she couldn't see how much people truly cared for her. She told herself that if she didn't care, she wouldn't get hurt. If she didn't let anyone in her fragile walls, she would be okay.

I don't know how I did it, but I did. Somehow, I'd managed to slowly peel off the dark layers that was Ashley Victoria Grace, and find the light existed within her. And in the process, without her realisation, she had opened my eyes and found the light in me too.

No one really knew her like I did. Heck, no one really knew me like she did. No one knew that deep down, behind the walls that she had built, she was pure. Like angelic, happy, divine pure. No one knew that deep, deep down, she was full of light. No one really knew that it was them who had changed her. That it was them who had broken her. Not the other way around.

I tried to fix her, really I did, but it was a lost cause. Or at least that is what I convince myself it to be. But I can't be held accountable of such thoughts, for all she did was push me away. For all she did was break me.

I'm still trying to get over her.

I wish I could just forget about this, about her, and move on, but it seems easier said than done. I guess from the outside it looked like I had moved on, the lack of her and the end of us seeming to have forced the enhancement of my acting and drama skills, but they don't know. No one does. They don't know how I stay up at night, sacrificing much needed sleep, thinking about her. They don't know about how I constantly reminisce and create unrealistic scenarios in my head. They don't know about the empty hole in my heart that only she can fill. They don't know about summer. They don't know about us.

I'd like to keep it that way.

I wish I could regret it, regret her, but I can't. Even if I'd tried.

She was my paper heart, and I was hers. Which, of course, complicated things. Our relationship lead to several misunderstandings and conflicts it became just too much for a girl and her remedy to withstand. She detached herself, she made herself not care. She would no longer tell me what was going on in her life, or ask me what was going on in mine. Not that it made a difference if she had asked; she was my life.

To this day I have no idea as to why she was like that or where it had stemmed from. All I knew was that she was struggling, even though she refused to admit it, and pushed me away when I offered to help. Slowly but surely, we started to have countless arguments late at night. Slowly but surely, our relationship was constantly threatened by the complications of everyone and everything, which then indeed resulted in an on and off association. I couldn't stand that. I remember the excruciating pain I had to face seeing the light die in her eyes, seeing the heat slowly extinguish. It tore me from the inside - ripping, tearing and searing - watching her fire burn out, almost as much as it hurt to see our fire burn out.

We never really ended things. We just sort of forgot about each other. i had expected her to be vying for my attention for once and beg for my apology but it never came. She never came. All I wanted was for her to show me she cared. That was all. She couldn't even deliver that one thing, even after all I had done for her and for us. I began to realise that all this time, it was only me. She didn't even try. Maybe she didn't even care. Maybe I was overanalysing everything. Maybe I didn't even know her at all.

I sigh for what seems to be the fifth time this week. "You have to stop reminiscing, Brad. She doesn't even care about you." I tell myself again. With a huff, I walk past the nurse's office on the way to my next class. Humming, I listen to the steady beat of my footsteps patting on the tiled marble white floor. At the very left of my eye vision, I catch a brief flicker of a dark haired girl laying down on the nurse's bed. Just another girl, I tell myself, but the instant way my heart pounds tells me otherwise. I know it's her, even despite the fat I couldn't see her. Even despite the fact I couldn't explain how. I just knew.

I quicken my pace, praying she did not see me, or anyone at all for that matter, did not see me. See you? She doesn't even care about you. It was a game. You were a game, I remind myself, quit thinking about her. I thrive to appear unaffected but I do not think it is working. Once I am out of her potential view, I stop in my tracks to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart she has caused. I piece them back together and clutch the empty hole that only she can fill. Thinking that a small glance her way would cure the pain, I turn to her direction, but then immediately snap my head back to face the way I was previously facing. Why did I have to do that? I'm only breaking myself further. The searing pain is still existent within my blood. Did she catch me? Of course she didn't, she doesn't care, remember? I inhale slowly and close my eyes. I'm going to be okay, I've done this for almost 2 years for fuck's sake. I'm going to be okay.

I carry on, forcing myself to focus on anything but her. But of course, I fail. Everything revolves around her, everything reminds me of her, how could I possible forget? Surely that will be a crime.

I start to panic. Why is she in the nurse's office? Is she alright?

Why do I care?

I shouldn't, no, not after all she's done to me. I try to remain uncaring and appear nonchalant but it is getting ever so difficult lately. This is absurd, I shouldn't even be giving her any of my time. It was her fault, she shouldn't have done what she did. I was the constant, not her. She couldn't give two fucks. She doesn't even mean anything to me, I repeat once again, trying to convince myself.

She's your paper heart, my bitch of a subconscious remarks.

"No she's not," I say to myself, barely above a whisper, but it is heard by someone I do not want to have heard.

"Who's not what?" my best mate Colin questions suspiciously, raising an eyebrow in question. I panic, but it takes only a few seconds to recollect myself.

"No, nothing, it doesn't matter," I reply, attempting to direct his attention away from my mishap. I am popular now. I am better now. I don't need her, why would I want her?

You're just scared he won't understand, my subconscious mocks again.

When I wanted more, she didn't even care.

You're just scared no one will understand.

She never did care.

We'll always just be paper hearts.

*

early update yay

his point of view yay

sorry it kinda sucked oops yay

all the love <3

A