"Little Girl" - lrh

36

Well, I finally did it. I ripped the bandage off and finally set him free. I have been riddled with guilt my entire life for forcing him to be apart of it; forcing him to be my stand-in father; forcing him to be my boyfriend.

It's for the best, right? It isn't fair to him to stay with me, right? He deserves to find happiness in a relationship with someone that's his age, that he didn't devote his youth to. Someone who isn't full of teenage hormones, whose frontal lobe is developed.

I just have to pretend like I am not devastated. That's fairly easy; I've hidden how I felt for years, I think I can do it again. I can act like what he said to me didn't hurt my feelings; I can act like hearing him say one minute he'd die for me then saying no one is worth taking his own life is perfectly fine; I can act like watching him be in a state of near death the past few weeks didn't make me worry he might already be dead.

It's okay. I can just... pretend.

"I feel like maybe we need to talk about your decision," Michael's tired voice pulls me back as we are sitting in the car. The music has been blaring the entire car ride, aiding in allowing me to block out the world as I consumed myself in my own thoughts.

"I don't think we necessarily need to talk about it," I look over at him, watching as he drives us around in circles. Luke vanished to Michael's room after sitting at the bottom of the stairs for almost twenty minutes, repeatedly hitting his head on the wall and muttering to himself how he won't let this kill him. I couldn't bring myself to stay in the apartment but the thought of leaving him alone is now bothering me. Michael has reassured me that he is going to be okay, but I still don't trust it.

"I know it was an idea that Luke had himself, but it wasn't something he actually wanted to do. He's been going through a lot."

"I get that you two are like, best friends now or whatever, but I really don't appreciate you trying to make it seem like he is a victim in this," I fold my arms and lean back against the seat.

"Look, I am sorry you are hurting. I don't think you should have told him you wanted to break up-"

"Take a break," I correct.

"Alice, you dumped him," Michael deadpans, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of us. Which, to me, didn't seem necessary since we were in the middle of nowhere and a car hasn't driven past us for miles.

"Because I thought that's what would be best. He deserves better; someone that is his age; someone that isn't bratty and childish; someone that didn't call him dad for a good chunk of his life. This hurts me a lot too, Michael. You don't have to be so cruel about it."

"I'm sorry," he sighs, pulling off to the side and turning off the car after rolling the windows down. "To me, it didn't seem like this was a decision you have been weighing on nor does it look like it bothers you to have suggested it. You haven't mentioned it to me."

"Well, you were around him so much I didn't really have a chance to say anything."

"I tried being there for you, I'm sorry I wasn't. He's just..."

"Acting like he's dead, yeah," I nod, taking a deep breath. I start absentmindedly picking at my fingers, looking over at Michael. He doesn't look like he's been getting a lot of sleep; given our current situation, he probably hasn't. His hair is starting to grow out, showing off his natural dirty blonde roots; it doesn't seem like he has the energy to keep up with his hair dying process anymore.

We all never seem to have the energy to continue doing what we use to.

"Me telling you everything he's been saying to me — albeit hardly much, won't change your mind, will it?" Michael glances over at me, laying his head back against the seat. I shrug. "He does love you. He just wishes the circumstances were different; this is a lot to weigh on a person.