𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 • 𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈

✿ 21.04.22 - part 2 ✿

TW: this chapter includes thought processes that may be triggering for some people, so please be cautious if you've struggled deeply with mental health.

Maya's POV

I walk away from Noah purposefully, trying to look assertive, confident, but each step I take against the concrete ground feels like I'm one step closer to crumbling. My head irks to look back. To see Noah staring back at me, wide-eyed and tearful, but my brain tells me to never look him in the eye ever again, because he doesn't deserve me.

Does he not realise what he's just done? Does he not understand everything he's thrown away? We'd built a kind of love and trust over the years that could never be shaken, so how has this possibly happened?

I rid my face of the black streaks staining my cheeks using a handkerchief, and attempt to control my erratic breathing so as to not draw attention to myself. However as I leave the Tigers' stadium and enter the bustling streets of Cleveland, I suddenly feel invisible amongst the crowds of people. Every life has their own problems, every soul their own burdens, so why does it feel like in this moment, mine are the heaviest of all?

Noah was the cement in my life, and without him, everything comes crashing down.

Soon enough, I arrive at the doors of my apartment block, so I push them open and trod up the stairs, reaching door number 12. The lock and my key choose to not correspond for some reason, as I jab and jab at the hole but the key just doesn't slot in. My frustration, combined with my present state of misery, manifest into me giving up altogether and sitting in a sulk against the wall in the middle of the hallway.

I look like a complete idiot, I know, but something in me just makes my body shut down all of a sudden. Now I shall describe the cycle of thoughts I went through in the space of ten minutes:

2 minutes - I hate life, I hate everything, why am I such a failure? Nobody likes me, I give up on everything, I'm so ugly, no-one wants to be with me. I was so stupidly dependent and now I'm a helpless nobody. I might as well be dead. No-one would miss me if I was dead.

4 minutes - Fuck this fucking shit I hate this fucking shit I live in a complete fucking shithole and my boyfriend was a dick I fucking hate his soul.

6 minutes - I HOPE HE BURNS IN HELL! HIS SOUL DESERVES TO ROT IN HIS OWN PISS! I NEVER WANT TO SEE HIS UGLY FLUFFY HAIR AND HIS STUPID SOFT SKIN EVER AGAIN! I WANT TO STUFF A FIREWORK DOWN HIS THROAT AND WATCH HIM EXPLODE INTO A MILLION TINY LITTLE PIECES!!!

8 minutes - Who am I kidding, I love him! I love him so much, I would never want to hurt him. Maybe he's just confused, maybe he misspoke. He doesn't actually want to break up with me. He said he loves me and I do too so we can still be together, right? He wasn't actually being serious.

By ten minutes I have gone through a full, certainly unhealthy cycle of thoughts that I regret so dearly, and I feel quite embarrassed by. Suddenly I hear soft footsteps approaching me, but rather than scrambling to my feet and getting in my apartment, I stay rooted to the floor.

The mystery person turns a corner, and my eyes are pleasantly surprised.

It's Caleb, a freshman at Cleveland that moved here a few weeks ago during mid-term. He lived on the other side of town but couldn't get any housing vacancies closer to campus, so when one of my neighbours moved out, he moved in.

He may be a freshman but her certainly didn't look it. He has broad shoulders and a definitive muscular build, and a stubble beard trimmed in a stylish fashion. His tanned skin complemented the golden tank top he was wearing, despite it being cold outside.

He's clutching a brown paper bag in a bottle shape in his right hand, and when he sees me he stops in his tracks, his head turning sideways.

"Are you-- Are you ok?" He asks, rightfully