THE BLIND GLASS RAGE

23

a/n: read authors note at the end (-:

***

When I woke, there was fear bubbling in my throat and a fog laying steady in my head.

I felt nothing.

Nothing besides the physical proof that there was a person laying next to me, all strong and solid and warm, with their sturdy, sculpted shoulders and pale arm strung across the expanse of my torso, and the heavy rumble that screamed through the pit of my angry stomach. It was calling out to me loudly, just like my anxious, confused heart was, wanting to be as free as humanly possible from the cage that existed in the form of my caved-in chest. And my heart dreamed, even though it was stuck in this bed with me, held hostage along with a brain that was filled to the brim with a picture that didn't exist. An image that didn't capture anything, unless that thing was fake.

Like you could predict, my thoughts centered around the two us. It was Josh and I, the picture, laying next to each other, in silent comfort. In brittle safety. And there was no white noise accompanying us. No sound in the back, taking away from what our focus should be injected into. Nothing to distract us from the mess that the both of us had become. In this picture, I wouldn't have to think about Noah or Joe or anyone for the rest of time. Instead, I would go swimming in the warmth of Josh's eyes. Which is the only place I would ever agree to drown in. The only place I would ever want to drown in.

But, then, the image tore itself to shreds. The noise it evoked ripped through my skull like someone was tearing apart something crucial right in my ear. It was more fucking relization, and a panic threw itself around against the walls my ribs set up. I jolted upwards, every muscle in me tense and pulled tight, like there was someone above me, keeping me rigid. Josh's arm slid from my bare skin, and my breathing was sharp, eyes giving out little black spots through the lack of oxygen hitting my lungs. And it felt like I was being punched thousands upon thousands upon thousands of times, because none of this was real.

It was real last night, sure, but not now.

We had lives back in Cincinnati. College and relationships, and the burden and gift that came attached to friends we didn't plan on becoming friends with, and this could not go on. There wouldn't be a second time.

He had Noah.

There couldn't be a second time.

He hummed where he was, and panic turned to something heavy and sharp in my veins. Like my blood was turning to daggers. "Why're you freaking out?" With his voice rough and unaware, I worked to shut my eyes against the pain and anger hiding in the small spaces of me. The places between my fingers and the skin of my thighs and the dip of my hips and all these places he'd laced himself into. And Noah was an asshole, obviously, but they were still dating. It wasn't right. Not that it was right for me to use Noah as a coverup for everything else. But, it didn't matter.

"I. We have to go today, you know." My voice gave away my emotions, not bothering to question whether that's what I wanted beforehand, and I blinked down at my dresser, working as strongly as possible against the fight in my mind. "Back to the university."

"I know?" He spoke.

It felt like there was lightning spilling through my brain, and snapping down my spine and biting at my throat. Last night felt like dying, and being reborn into something I didn't know if I could stand, or not, but now I was just hollow. Hollow and jealous of a blonde, want-to-be-veterinarian, with shaggy hair and my best friend's taste constantly his mouth, and I wondered how Josh felt about any of it. If it burned him every time he made fucking eye contact with Noah. I wondered if Noah could feel it, that something was off, and if Josh knew he could feel it.