The Break Up

Chapter Three: Reconcile.

...

Garfield had awoken late in the afternoon, his disheveled appearance and weary demeanor evident to anyone who crossed his path. He didn't offer any greetings as he entered the main room, determined to avoid the concerned stares from his friends that followed him. With a sense of detachment, he made his way over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup of lukewarm coffee that had been left to sit for far too long.

The disapproval in Richard's gaze didn't go unnoticed, and Garfield couldn't resist rolling his eyes in response. His frustration evident, he snatched an apple from the countertop, his scowl deepening as he bit into it with more force than necessary, hoping to fend off any further questioning or concern. His lack of appetite wasn't something he wanted to discuss, not now.

Disposing of the half-eaten apple in the trash, he made his way toward the common room's exit, his steps heavy with the weight of his emotions. He couldn't help but slow his pace, his ears catching snippets of conversation as his friends discussed their growing worry for his well-being.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he was just relieved that she wasn't among them. He turned his attention forward, not particularly watching where he was headed when he collided with someone. His eyes immediately went to his coffee, glad it didn't spill, before looking up at the person he had bumped into.

"Sorry." Raven offered an apology, her eyes briefly leaving the pages of her book.

Garfield found himself staring at her in surprise, momentarily speechless.

In response to his prolonged staring, Raven slowly glanced up from her novel. "Is there something wrong?" she inquired, her gaze flicking toward him.

Furrowing his brow and still carrying the bitterness that had consumed him. "I guess not." He replied before turning away and walking off, leaving her behind in his wake.

Garfield stormed into his room, his footsteps echoing with frustration. The door slammed shut behind him, and he didn't bother to turn on the lights. He tossed his coffee cup onto the desk, with no intention of drinking it. His hands clenched into fists as he stood there, his breathing heavy and labored. His room became a battleground as he paced back and forth, the turmoil within him palpable.

The girl he had known and cherished for the past year felt like a distant memory now, replaced by this seemingly emotionless stranger. It was maddening to witness the transformation, to see the person he had shared countless wonderful memories with reduced to this detached, unfamiliar version of herself.

Anguish contorted his face, and his fury boiled over, leading him to punch his fist violently into the wall with unbridled rage.

This wasn't fair, how could she just walk around so unfazed while he was trapped in a whirlwind of emotions? Anger and sadness clawed at him, despair and rage swirled within, and he felt simultaneously infuriated and miserable. It was as though he were drowning in a sea of turbulent feelings.

He longed to release the pent-up frustration in any way possible. The urge to rip his own hair out, to unleash a primal roar, or to strike something again. But as he glanced back at the fist size dent in his wall, he realized there was a smarter way to let out his built-up anger.

...

Garfield sat alone in the dimly lit combat room, his back pressed flat against the padded bench. He heaved the bar of heavy weights over his chest with each determined push, the repetitive motion providing a temporary distraction from the incessant echoes of her question that reverberated in his head.

"Is there something wrong? Is there something wrong? Is there something wrong?"

"Of course there's something wrong! How could you not know there's something wrong?!" He growled through gritted fangs, his muscles straining as he continued to bench press the weights.