Three Phantoms of You [bxb]

Heart to: Kiev

Kiev:

Everything. Every feeling.

It just feels as if the emotion of desolation fails to surpass what heartbreak should feel. It's not something to cry over, but a nuisance of freedom. Those late-night calls wouldn't lead to exhaustion, dates wouldn't burden effort, and kisses wouldn't mark me as having temporary ownership anymore because I chose to block them out again.

"You're really trying to get to me."

"Then let me," she says.

It's really hard to hide my annoyance and just roll my eyes at how she understood what I said. I'm not asking for her to slither inside my heart, knock on it, and beg each chamber to put their guards down. No. I'm declaiming that you're really trying to get on my nerves, and I'm sick of it.

She definitely noticed how irked I'm getting because of how I'm standing. I freeze whenever I don't like something, and I do my best to show my dissatisfaction. However, this doesn't displease her anymore. Fucking stubborn.

Instead, she held my arms and tried to give me a bewildered gaze.

It's funny because, as hard as she tries to stare into my lethargic eyes, all that can be reflected is the opposite of what every person in this situation can give. Which is empathy and another chance.

I have known for a fact that second chances are only given to those who are desperate. If one makes a mistake that causes you to give up on them, then it just means that they didn't value the first chance you gave them as much as it was scarred. No exceptions.

"You're not thinking of breaking us up," she says with confidence. "We're just starting."

No shit. How'd you read my mind? Oppositely. I'm one to see potential in other things, but not in people, so I don't see why it would bruise me to lose another. And shouldn't it be easier to revert attachment with a brief exchange of affection?

I flex my arm under her hands as I smirk, "You make me laugh." I hope it will turn her off.

"I know."

—The fuck did she get this assurance from?

My gimmick of trying to be a jester, full of derision when breaking up, is not working for her. Others usually get my mockery whenever I joke over their forlornness, yet it's the opposite for her.

I give up. I'd rather be direct.

My head rammed lightly against the wall as I closed my eyes in discernment. Call me selfish for what I'm about to say, but wouldn't you do anything to steer someone away too, especially if you're negatively crowded by their presence?

"Just fucking shut up already." I burst, which caused her to back off.

"Your smugness fucking hurts all of insanity. Don't you see that I don't give a fuck about you? Nor what you're asking from me? You just seem foolish to think that someone like you even deserves a fragment of my patience-hell, I'm not even giving you shit. Just because you're caught up with that idea of fucking someone as cold as me, hoping I'll change, doesn't mean you can do it. And shut up already with your cheating nonsense, I don't give chances for free. You bitch." I continue.

Don't worry, I still managed to say those things with composure and not rupture any speck of rampage against her. Just a piece of my anger. However, that's just an inch of what I want to say; I'll let her comprehending mind discern the rest of my rage.

Her eyes widen with distraughtness as she puts both hands in the air, signaling an act of surrender.

"Woah, Satan. You didn't really have to call me out that hard," she replies, her face unreadable from all the mischief.

I try to trace every emotion and vestige of realization in her face with my eyes. Surely, she would get what I said, right? Or else I'll just storm out of this room, go to my therapist, and cut every piece of her in my thoughts.

She pulls my shoulder down to level with her and smiles above sincerity to me, "I applaud you, really. You're just another boring, sad guy under my finger anyway." She ends and kisses me on my cheek.

I'm left more confused. I definitely expected a much easier escape, yet she baited my intentions instead. It's fine. It's just another one of those unprecendented breakups I have known and loved. I know that to live is to experience a love above all living and deeper than the dead. Yet, I never felt remorse whenever I declined it; I just moved from one soul to another to prove that love is just a phantom for people to watch pass by.

And who the fuck would want to exchange love with that shit as your partner? really? I'd rather oppress my own heart for it to be nu—

Zzzzzzz

A sound of buzzing escapes from the front of the door, causing me to lapse away from what I have been thinking.

I'm sprawled out in bed right now. My gaze is focused on my ceiling. Hand on my stomach and thoughts in contemplation. I don't know what else to think rather than to rewind everything and every feeling, trying to see where the concept of love lies in the specks of my reality. It's not within me. Not even my heart beats to search for it. I'm just straight up demented and dramatic.

Zzzzzzz

Another buzz.

I lift my body up from my bed and walk hazily to the door. I'm nowhere near fucked up, but I do look like it. Probably just my laziness battering my being with melancholy.

Another ring from my doorway caused me to hurry in my steps. I know exactly what it is, and I couldn't be happier to meet him again.

My order is here.

"Hello, sir. Room 13.-" The delivery man mumbles as I open the door to welcome my food.

However, all he's saying just blurs out, deafening my ears as I observe him.

His name is Lee, as written in his nametag. He looks earnest. He looks young, yet his figure doesn't really scream student, as opposed to me. His eyes are in shadows of black with strands of hazel fluttering over his forehead, and he is wearing the same uniform he wears every time he delivers it to me, yet it never came upon me if he washes it or not. He is the same height and build as me; however, there is no sign of coldness in his gaze or smile. He's cute, and I will pull him in anytime other than today since I'm not really down for a rebound. Anyway-

"Here's your order," he finishes as he flashes me another smile.

I wouldn't mind his company if he stayed. It would be better than being alone in my apartment every single day. Far worse, Chaiste, the girl I broke up with earlier, doesn't really get the idea of accompanying each other, which is why we barely have any intimate time together. Just always in public, with temporary closed doors. It's tiring.

I close the frame of my door as he leaves, and I head to my room.

The quiet whispers of emptiness always tell me to fly away from the corridors of my own prison, yet I choose to stay where love is far from reckoned.

Opening my closet, I took out a green plain shirt and changed from the uniform I wore all day long. There's not much to deduce from each piece of memory that is stored in the closet of my belongings. No phantom would ever want to linger within the smell of cold-heartedness or live in hostile oblivion from the other side of it. Yet, here I am hoping.

I leave the door of my closet open as I lounge once again in my bed. It's getting late, anyway, and my stomach rumbles from hunger as I pick up a piece of pizza from its box.

Is it worthless to hope that digestion will instead take place in my heart to bargain any feelings of apathy?

Yet, in the end, all I can do is close my eyes and lay glistered somewhere where my phantom always dreams.