𝕮𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖊 𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕴𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

Good Things Go | C.S.

[Angst]
Inspired by LINKIN PARK's 'Good Things Go'

It had been raining for weeks, or at least that's what it felt like. The storm wasn't outside, though—it was in your head, relentless and merciless. You could feel it in every interaction, every word spoken and every moment of silence. The weight of it bore down on you like lead, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to stop yourself from making it worse.

Cobie stood in the kitchen, her back to you as she dried the dishes. The small, repetitive motion was almost hypnotic, but you couldn't focus on it for long. The sound of the dish towel brushing ceramic grated against your nerves. Everything grated against your nerves.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Cobie's voice broke the silence, quiet but pointed. You hated how calm she sounded—how controlled. Like she wasn't drowning the same way you were. Like she had everything together, while you were falling apart.

"There's nothing to talk about," you said, sharper than you intended. You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter, your gaze fixed on the floor.

Cobie turned to face you, and you could feel the weight of her stare. You didn't look up.

"There's everything to talk about," she said. "You've been distant for weeks, barely speaking to me, and when you do, it's like..." She paused, her voice catching. "It's like you're trying to hurt me."

You laughed bitterly, a sharp, humorless sound that echoed in the small kitchen. "Maybe I am," you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "Maybe I just can't deal with this anymore."

Her face crumpled, but she didn't cry. She never cried—not in front of you, at least. "Deal with what?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Us? Me? What exactly is so unbearable that you have to push me away every time I try to help you?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't. The truth was, you didn't even know why you were like this. All you knew was that the chaos inside you was too much to contain, and it spilled over onto everything you touched—especially her.

"I don't need your help," you said instead, your tone cold and dismissive. You wanted her to stop probing, to stop looking at you like she could fix you if she just tried hard enough. You didn't want to be fixed. You just wanted to be left alone.

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Cobie snapped, her calm exterior finally cracking. "You think I don't see what's happening to you? You think I don't know how much you're struggling?"

"Don't act like you know me better than I know myself," you shot back, your voice rising. "You have no idea what it's like in my head. You have no idea what it feels like to wake up every day and hate yourself so much that you can't even look in the mirror."

"Then tell me!" she yelled, her voice breaking. "Tell me what's going on in your head, because I'm here, and I'm trying, but you won't let me in!"

You shook your head, the frustration boiling over into anger. "You don't want to know," you said, your voice low and dangerous. "You think you do, but you don't. If you knew, you'd leave, just like everyone else."

Cobie took a step closer, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desperation. "I'm not everyone else," she said fiercely. "I'm not going to leave you, no matter how hard you try to push me away. But you can't keep doing this. You can't keep tearing me down just because you're hurting."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, but instead of backing down, you lashed out. "You think this is about you?" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "You think I'm doing this to hurt you? Newsflash, Cobie—it's not always about you. Sometimes people are just fucked up, and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

She flinched, and you hated yourself for it, but you couldn't stop. The anger was like a fire, consuming everything in its path, and you were powerless to control it.

"I hate you," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. They hung in the air like a slap, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Cobie's face went pale, her eyes wide with shock and pain. "You don't mean that," she said softly, her voice trembling.

"Don't tell me what I mean," you snapped, your chest heaving. You knew you were spiraling, but you couldn't stop yourself. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing the impact was coming but unable to do anything to prevent it.

Cobie shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes but not falling. "I don't believe you," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't believe that you hate me. I think you're scared, and I think you're hurting, and I think you're too proud to admit it."

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Believe whatever you want," you said, your voice cold and empty. "It doesn't change anything."

The silence that followed was deafening. Cobie stared at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours for something—anything—that would tell her you didn't mean what you'd said. But you kept your expression blank, refusing to let her see the cracks in your armor.

Finally, she turned away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can't keep doing this," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I can't keep fighting for someone who doesn't want to be fought for."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, but you didn't let it show. You watched as she walked away, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. When the door closed behind her, the silence was unbearable.

You sank to the floor, your head in your hands, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You didn't cry. You couldn't. The tears wouldn't come, no matter how much you wanted them to.

Instead, you sat there in the silence, the storm raging in your head, and wondered if this was what it felt like to lose everything.

<3