Mint | h.s.

3.6

Elena's POV

You know how they always say that heartbreaks are the most painful thing a person can survive? Yea, I've thought that it would feel like pain, just plainly pain. But, I was wrong. It feels like your heart was pushed down your stomach, you get this feeling as if you're going to throw up, cause your head is spinning so fast, you cannot feel a thing. It also feels like every inch of your skin is being electrified and covered in needles. And in one moment, the pain seems to get so high, it becomes a normal feeling, it becomes numbness. It becomes "I don't care"s and "No, I don't want to"s.

It feels like driving in a car with your favourite song playing as loudly as possible. And then, suddenly, your car radio breaks and all you do is sit in silence.

"Are you sure you don't want to?" Aleisha persistently asks me for the fiftieth time.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine."

She glances around, ovethinking her decision of leaving me alone for three hours. She thinks I'm going to do something stupid just because I've recently got out of a relationship. As if.

"But, listen it'll be fun, it's just a music festival, come on, plus Finn will be there." She looks at me pleadingly, with a sad, almost pitiful, twinkle in her eyes.

"I'll be fine, I promise, now go have fun." I forcefully smile and watch her sigh.

"Okay, see you tomorrow." Aleisha comes over and wraps her hands around my torso.

"Have fun."

With her out of my way, I push the blanket off me and put a jacket on my shoulders. I slide the door that leads to the balcony and step into the chilly November air. Goosebumps erupt on my skin, guess the thin sweater doesn't do its job of keeping me warm.

I fish into the right pocket of my jacket, struggling to find the small box. After grabbing it, I pull it outside. I read the warning sign, chuckling at the irony.

I open it, pulling one cigarette out, with the red lighter. I quickly light it up, inhaling the toxin. Exhaling, I see the smoke vanishing in the air. It reminds me of my senior year of high school, when I felt this way last. I picked this habit up in order to forget about the pain. When Harry came along, I stopped, because I didn't need to dull my feelings anymore. I was happy to feel. And now I'm right at the start again. And come to think that I thought that Harry was the one for me. I smile halfheartedly.

I quickly finish smoking that one, getting back in my room afterwards.

I pick up my phone, seeing the missed calls from Harry get multiplied. I shut it off and run my fingers through my fingers. I glance at the hung pictures on my wall, above my desk, remembering the way Harry found out about my love towards photography.

I look at my bed, pictures flashing in my mind from that night when Harry stayed over for the first time. I shake my head, trying to get rid off the rushing thoughts in my head.

A music festival. That was out first date. Desk. His notebook. Him writing songs. Him writing songs about me. He never sang them to me. Jerk. Bed. Making love. The morning after. Bathroom. Stupid knock-knock jokes.

I notice tears rolling down my face and quickly wipe them off. I swiftly put on some pants and a jacket. Walking down the stairs, I see the sofa. He told me he loved me for the first time.

I shake my head and put on my shoes.

After I close the front door, I start walking down the street. Thoughts can be overwhelming sometimes to the point where you have to physically bring yourself to get rid of them, like focusing on the sidewalk, the way I do.

I spot a bench and walk over to it, taking a seat and shivering at the coldness of it.

Pulling out the packet of cigarettes, I light my second one for the evening. Inhaling, I sigh, becoming content with the feeling of not feeling anything.

"Thought you hated those."

The voice that I haven't heard in four weeks speaks to me. I look up and see him, standing with his hands in his pocket, the beanie pushing his hair back, nose reddening by the second from the cold.

The same green piercing eyes staring back at me and it's like a wind pushing me back, everything I pushed back, comes right at me, hitting me like a hurricane.

With a steady voice I utter the name of the one I swore I would never say anything to again.

"Harry."