𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 | 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞

⁰⁴ | Shattered photographs

ɢᴜʏ ɢᴇʀᴍᴀɪɴᴇ

"𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐆𝐔𝐘! I called you six times and you didn't answer a single one!"

"How many times do I have to apologize?" I scoff, feeling like a little kid in trouble again. "I'm sorry, Con. I was busy!"

Connie's ears turn red and I can see the lecture coming. She would make me feel so stupid. The way she talks down to me, like I don't deserve her. "Busy with what exactly? Strumming away on that stupid guitar of yours?"

"It wasn't stupid when you wanted me to write you a song last week," I mutter, slumping further back in my chair as she stands in front of me, her hand balled in a fist.

"Yeah? And how's that going for you?"

The truth was that I hadn't gotten a thing down. I tried, but every song ended up being about...well, not her. "Look-"

"You know," she interrupts me. "Maybe if you hadn't been moping around all summer-"

"What?" I cut her off because I am so sick and tired of her criticism. "What am I really missing out there? Stop pretending like everyone else is fine but me."

Anger glints in her eye; for a moment, there is an escape tunnel. This is the way out. But I don't take it. Why don't I take it? She slams an envelope on my desk and I can tell she doesn't have anything else to argue about. "Call me when you want to thank me for being a good girlfriend."

My finger traces the edges of the letter, quickly glancing at the address. Eden Hall Academy. I look back up when I realize she's still in the doorframe of my room, facing away from me.

"I'm sorry I'm the one who has to tell you this but it seems no one else will: Do yourself a favor and fucking forget about Maeve. She clearly didn't have a problem forgetting about you."

I wanted to tell her to go screw herself, that she didn't know anything about Mae--but the ugly part of me knew Connie was right. I should've forgotten about her the day she left. I should have let her go as easily as she let me go. She clearly didn't have a problem forgetting about you.

And I hate her for it. I hate that she's so far away. I hate that I didn't fight harder. I hate that she didn't. I hate that this is where I am right now.

I stare at the framed picture to my left. It's me and my brother, wrapped in our dad's arms three weeks before he died. I glare at the young kid so hard, that I can see a reflection of someone I don't even recognize bouncing off the glass. "What the fuck happened to you?" I whisper through gritted teeth.

Before I know what I'm doing, the frame hits the floor with a devastating crash. Glass coats the floor and I don't even flinch. I throw another picture against the wall. I'm breaking anything I can get my hands on because that's what I do--ruin things.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you." I don't know who I'm yelling at, but I mean it. I mean it with my whole chest. Maybe I'm yelling at my dad for driving so late at night. Maybe I'm yelling at Connie for sucking me back in every time. My brother, for going to college when I still needed him. Maybe even Jesse, for not taking the damn car. Luis, for stealing my girlfriend in the first place. Mae, for being impossible to leave behind.

And I am almost certain I am yelling at myself, for being so not me. But then again, who am I? How can I be myself if I'm not really here?

The crack of my hockey stick snaps me back to reality. The two pieces sit in my hands, trembling with exhaustion. My back hits the wall and I slide to the ground, my breathing heavy and rapid. The shattered photo is just within reach. My fingers fumble through it until I recognize the folded paper, my name written in blue pen cursive. It's crinkled and damaged beyond repair. The note shakes in my hand, opening to the words that rip my heart out each time.

Dear Guy,

I've spent nearly everyday for the past four years pretending like I don't need you in my life. But maybe needing isn't enough. I want to want you entirely. But I don't. I don't want the part of you that will fight with me at any moment. I don't want the part that can not love me. I'm not blaming you. I can't blame you for that because I don't want that part of me either. You don't want that part of me.

But I do want the rest of you. The boy who talks in his sleep and calls me Mae despite the fact that he knows he probably shouldn't. I want you because you've always been the person I can breath with.

I'm leaving, you know that. Please don't think it's because I regret anything that happened between us over the summer. That's not it. I don't regret you. But I think we both know it was stupid to get so tangled up in each other if we still couldn't bare to be in the same room. It was stupid to think that it would just go away, because it didn't. You were right when you said that it would never work. You were right to know that we have to really move on before anything else.

I don't know how long I'll be away for. I'm scared that I'm making a mistake, but I don't want to be stupid anymore. We're not stupid. I believe in us. I believe that when I do come back we'll be smarter. We will know what we are supposed to be.

The only thing that I hate more than you is the fact that I hate you.

Mae

☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 later that night. I apologized and she told me to come over. When I did, she cried in my arms about how sorry she was. She didn't want to fight. I'm not sure I believed her but I pretended like I did.

For the rest of the night, we laid together, whispering secrets and stories into the darkness. She ran her fingers through my hair and laughed into my chest. It was good. It felt really good.

"Guy," she'd quietly say, her face only inches from mine. "You know that I love you, right?"

Her cheeks were warm to the touch. "I know, Con."

"Good."

I kissed her forehead and held her a little harder. I knew we'd probably end up screaming at one another in a few days, but for now, things were okay. And that was okay with me. She knew that.

"About what you said earlier," I murmured, my eyelids growing heavy and my words slurring. "I've moved on from Maeve. I don't want you to think that I haven't."

"But can you forget her?"

"Yes."