"Are you fucking serious?" He mutters, turning his face towards mine, frustration in his eyes. "How many times have I told you to turn that thing off when you're done with it?"
"I'm sorry," I whisper, bringing my hands to my mouth. "Fuck, Will, I'm so sorry."
"Fuck, Eve!" He stands and paces the room, his hands behind his head. "How could you be so stupid?"
"I'm sorry!" I repeat. "I wasn't thinking!"
"Your lack of thinking ruined my whole fucking apartment!" Wilbur grabs his headphones and throw them onto the floor, the cord yanking out of his computer. "All the furniture I paid for! My bed! So many books! My guitars from my grandparents and Connie! I can't-" His face drops as he realizes what he's said.
I feel my fists clench as my arms are folded across my chest. "That guitar was from Connie?"
"That's not what's important right now." Wilbur responds, his voice lower now.
"No, I wanna talk about it. You've said a million times how the three guitars on your wall were the guitars that meant the absolute most to you."
"You expect me to just throw it away?"
"I except you to not hang it up anymore, and boast about how much it means to you. You swore you were over her!"
"I am!" Will basically screams. "Why can't you fucking understand that?"
"It's hard to when you're still obsessed with her! You have her guitar up, you fucking cry over her in London, and I've seen you scrolling through her Instagram! I didn't say anything because I had faith that you were just checking in or whatever but obviously not."
"You don't understand what it's like to have a serious relationship and then have to move on, Eve. You don't understand because no guy has ever dated you for more than a week, and now I understand why."
I scoff as tears pierce my eyes. "Why so, Will? Why does no one wanna date me?"
"You're insanely paranoid for no reason. It's fucking ridiculous. If I were to even make eye contact with a girl, you'd freak out."
"It's hard to make eye contact with a stranger when you never even go outside. You don't take me out on dates. I know we've been dating for just two weeks, but still. All we've fucking done is sit in my apartment. I had to beg you to go to the cabin with me. You're fucking boring. You're a celebrity with zero friends. It's pathetic."
"Don't call me pathetic when I made you who you are." Wilbur steps towards me and points his finger at me. "I made you. You were nothing before me."
"All you did was ask me to open for you!" I push him away from me, crying from frustration. "You didn't write a word of any of my songs that people listen to."
"All of those people are my fans. They're listening to you because I'm dating you."
"So, my music sucks?"
"No, but no one would be listening to it if it weren't for me."
I just laugh and shake my head. "Whatever, Will. Get the fuck out."
He stays silent for a second, his face completely red. "Where the hell am I supposed to stay?"
"That's not my problem. You're not going to insult me in my own apartment."
"Well, I can't insult you in my apartment, cause you fucking burned it down!"
"Just leave!" I scream at him, exhausted from looking at his face. Just then, there's a loud knock at my front door. I sigh and shove past him, opening the door to see the landlord.
"Could you two keep it down?" He asks, poking his head in. "People are complaining."
"He was just leaving." I mumble. The landlord just nods and leaves and I turn around to face Wilbur, just standing in the doorway to the guest room. "You heard me. We're done."
"I have nowhere to go."
"There's a million hotels in this city. I'm sure one will house your sorry ass."
"They're, like, seven hundred bucks a night!"
"You're such a hot shot celebrity with all of your fans, Will! You can pay for it!"
"Whatever. I'll give you the address whenever I get a new place and you can mail the rest of my stuff then." He mutters, grabbing his bag of clothes, wallet, and keys before storming out my door. I slam it behind him and lean against it, finally breaking down and sobbing. Fighting already stresses me out and we're both exhausted from the long night. I can't believe I burned his place down. I can't believe he kept her guitar. I can't believe I trusted him so much. And I can't believe that I already miss him.
I force myself to walk to my room and lie in my bed, my tears erupting even more as I smell the sheets, covered in Wilbur's cologne. I've only known him for a few months; it shouldn't hurt this badly. But he's turned into my only friend in the city. The boy I dreamt about every night, spent every second with. And now we're over because both of us made stupid mistakes.
I pick my phone up, needing to talk to someone. All I have left is Sofia, but she doesn't pick up the call. Then I realize it's nearly five in the morning, and she has classes in a few hours. Now I wanna call Wilbur and apologize and beg for him to come back, but I can't. He wouldn't even pick up the phone anyway.
My gut feeling was right. I knew to get that album done, cause otherwise, I would've been stuck with someone else. And now what do I do? Wilbur was the only one helping guide me through this new stardom. Our manager doesn't explain much to me, but I guess now, he'll have to. And since we have the same manager, I'll probably still have to see him sometimes. Unless he goes back to London to pursue Connie, but I don't see that happening. Sure, he's still attached to her, but I don't think he'd get back with her. But maybe he will, and I'll have to see it. I really thought Wilbur would be my first love, but now it just feels like that'll never happen.
I wonder what he's thinking. Surely, he hates me. I can't blame him at all. He wasn't the best boyfriend, but I burned down his fucking apartment. I guess I deserve this loneliness, the loneliness I felt all of my younger years, and now face again. The loneliness that Wilbur cured, even if just for a bit. He already feels so distant, even just minutes after him leaving. And he'll probably never think of me again. I'm sure these couple of weeks didn't mean too much for him, why would they? We've known each other for a few months, so maybe he'll miss my presence.
God, I just need to sleep. I've been awake for nearly 24 hours. But as I shut my eyes, I know I won't get a minute of rest with thoughts of Wilbur consuming my mind.
