Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 57

Leila POV

The hotel hallway was cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you'll never get warm again.

But inside me? Inside, I was burning.

Every step away from that room felt like a weight dragging behind me, tethering me to Marshall.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake him. I couldn't leave him behind. He was in my head, in my heart—haunting me like a shadow I couldn't escape.

I hated it. I hated him. I loved him.

My breath came in ragged bursts as I slid down the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest.

My mind was racing, replaying every second of that fight.

His anger, my accusations, the way we'd ripped into each other like enemies instead of lovers.

But that was us. It had always been us—two people constantly on the edge of an explosion.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut it all out, but all I could see was his face. The storm in his eyes, the fire behind every word he said. I could still feel him—his presence, his rage, the way he looked at me like I was driving him insane. And the worst part? I knew I was. I knew I was tearing him apart, just like he was tearing me apart.

But it didn't stop me. It never did.

The door to the stairwell creaked open, and I glanced up to see Monica stepping out. Her eyes landed on me immediately, softening with that knowing look she always gave me after one of these fights. She walked over and sat beside me, resting her back against the wall with a quiet sigh.

"You can't keep doing this, Lala," Monica said, her voice gentle but firm. "You're going to destroy yourself."

I shook my head, biting down on my lip hard. "I know," I whispered. "But I can't stop."

She sighed again, glancing at me. "You're going to destroy him, too."

That hit harder than it should've. I knew she was right. I knew we were both spiraling into something that would end up leaving us broken. But I couldn't leave. I couldn't walk away from him, even if it meant losing myself in the process.

"He drives me insane, Monica," I said, my voice trembling. "But I love the way he makes me feel. Like I'm the only one who matters. Even when we're fighting, even when I hate him, I feel alive."

Monica shook her head, the sadness in her eyes growing. "Lala, that's not love. That's obsession."

I turned my head to look at her, my heart aching with the weight of her words. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn't. What Marshall and I had wasn't normal. It wasn't healthy. It was consuming. And even though I knew that, I couldn't walk away.

"I know," I whispered again, wiping my face. "But I can't lose him. I don't want to lose him. I think... I think I love him."

It was the first time I'd said it aloud. The words felt heavy, but also terrifyingly true. I didn't know what love was supposed to feel like, but I knew what I felt for Marshall. It was more than need. It was more than lust. It was something deeper, something I couldn't name until now.

Monica stared at me for a long moment, her expression softening. "Lala... if you love him, you have to stop pushing him away. You're both holding onto each other so tight you're choking. You need to give each other some room to breathe."

I shook my head, my voice cracking. "I don't know how. I'm scared. Scared that if I let go, even just a little, I'll lose him."

Monica let out a long sigh, standing up and brushing off her jeans. "You're never going to lose him, Leila. But if you keep this up, you're going to break him. And yourself."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because deep down, I knew she was right. But knowing it didn't change the fact that I couldn't walk away. No matter how much we fought, no matter how much we hurt each other, Marshall was it for me. He was the one person who made everything else in the world disappear, even when he was driving me insane.

"I need to go back," I said suddenly, pushing myself off the floor.

Monica's eyes widened. "What? No, Leila. You need space. You need time to think."

But I shook my head. "I don't need space. I need him."

The truth of it hit me like a freight train. I needed him more than anything. Even when we were destroying each other, I needed him like I needed air. The thought of leaving him—of walking away for good—felt like I'd be cutting out a piece of myself. I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it.

I walked back toward the hotel room, my heart pounding with every step. When I reached the door, I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle. What was I even going to say? We'd fought like hell, and I didn't know if he was ready to forgive me. But that didn't matter. I had to try.

I knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Marshall stood there, his eyes dark with the aftermath of our fight. But beneath the anger, I saw something else. Something raw, something that mirrored what I was feeling.

"Leila," he started, his voice rough, but I cut him off.

"We need to talk," I said, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. The air between us was thick, heavy with everything that had happened. I stood there, my heart in my throat, my emotions warring inside me. I wasn't even sure what I wanted to say. All I knew was that I couldn't leave things like this. Not again.

He looked at me, his eyes still stormy. "You always do this," he muttered, his voice low. "You push me until I break, and then you walk away."

I swallowed, my chest tightening. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I don't mean to. I just... I'm scared, Marshall."

"Scared of what?" he snapped. "Of me?"

I shook my head, stepping closer. "No. Of losing you. Of you leaving me."

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I'm not going anywhere. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

I bit my lip, feeling the tears start to sting my eyes. "But what if you do? What if I'm not enough? What if—"

"Stop," he growled, stepping forward and grabbing my wrists, pulling me toward him. His grip was tight, almost painful, but I didn't pull away. "You're fucking everything to me. You hear me? You're all I think about, Leila. You drive me insane, but I can't let you go. I don't want to let you go."

The words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing into me with a force I wasn't ready for. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode.

"I love you," I blurted out, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

For a moment, the room went still. His grip loosened slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. The silence was heavy, thick with the weight of those three words.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

"I love you," I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how to deal with all of this—us. I don't know how to be with you without feeling like I'm losing my mind. But I love you, Marshall."

He stared at me for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. And then, without warning, he pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me so tightly I could barely breathe.

"I love you too," he whispered into my hair, his voice raw and broken. "I love you, Leila. God, I fucking love you."

The world seemed to stop in that moment, the chaos and the fire fading away, leaving just the two of us standing in the middle of it all. For the first time, everything felt still.

And for the first time, I wasn't scared.