16. Figuring it out

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Author's note

So sorry to keep yall waiting! I know I said that I will update early but college assignments kept me busy.
Long chapter ahead<3
Enjoyyyyy

🎀

‼️Tw: flashbacks, trauma, discussions about death

When I rang his hotel room bell, I kept imagining his possible reaction. Maybe he'll be shocked because he really thinks that I don't know it's his birthday. Then, he would be really happy. I will see that wide toothy smile and those dimples.

"Get out." He says.

Nothing could've prepared me for that.

"Are you kidding?" I say but he just keeps staring at me, expecting me to leave.

Not so fast.

"You can't be serious. I waited at the dessert shop's queue for-"

"I didn't ask you to" he replies curtly.

"Are you mad at me or something? I am sorry that I didn't remember your birthday but can you blame me? You didn't even tell me." I explain but he looks away like he doesn't care.

"I am not blaming you. Can you just go now? I don't want to talk to you right now." He says quietly

Telling me to get out was something. But not even explaining why, hit my nerve. My eyes fill with angry tears and I blink furiously holding them back.

"Wow. Fine, I'll leave. But don't expect me to talk to you. Ever again. This is damn selfish. There's obviously something wrong with you right now but I don't think you want me to figure that out, do you?" I say bitterly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

I turn around and open the door, but the pastry from my hand drops to the floor. I bend down to get it but I see something that does something to my heart. Even though just for a second, I saw his tired eyes holding back a flood of tears.

Killing the remaining ounce of self respect within me, I turn around.

I was right. He's crying and I don't know why. But I want to know. I am aware of  every single part of my body, ready to kill whoever was making him cry. And that was a dangerous feeling.

"I do. I do want you to figure it out" he says, his voice hoarse and shaky.

That sent pain, right to the left of my chest. I felt guilty. Guilty for what? I had no idea.

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