Make Me Forget✔

E L E V E N

Song of the chapter: New Man- Ed Sheeran.

[NEXT MORNING]

Conor's POV_

"Fucking hell, you could've at least cleaned it up!" Alex yelled at me from over the kitchen as he cleaned up the mess of shattered glass from last night.

"Why are you so mad about it? It's just a stupid cup!" I said, sighing at how annoyed he seems.

"I'm mad because my roommate thinks it's okay to break stuff and go to sleep! I'm not your mother, mate." He shaked his head, finally getting done with all the cleaning.

"I had more important shit to handle, okay?" I asked, watching him as he left the kitchen, with me behind him.

"Like what?!" He looked back at me. "Crying over Veronica maybe?!"

I know...

I know.

That sounded just as painful as you're all thinking, and I suddenly felt my day crashing, my smile fading, and my world ending.

Yes, he just said that.

Yes, I just heard that.

Yes, you just read that.

Yes, it was hurtful to know that I look weaker and weaker everyday.

"Yes, Alex. I wad busy crying over Veronica." I nodded, my tone holding back the obvious hurt burning my throat.

"Conor, look, I j-" I knew he's going to explain, because I know he doesn't want to keep up with me anymore, and it's okay, no one really wants to either.

"And if that annoys you then maybe you shouldn't look out for me anymore because at some point, when I fucking end my life, you're all going to cry like shits over my stone." I let it all out, as calmly and collectedly as possible, moving slowly out of the kitchen as if nothing happened, because I'm done feeling like something actually happened, and I'm done taking the blame for being hurt, and I'm done being me.

I'm just honestly done.

"I'm sorry, Conor, I didn't mean t-" He sat next to me, his arm around me as he settled in his seat on the couch.

"Of course you didn't." I cut him off. "You know, Alex," I put his arm away from me to fully face him in our seats. "No one actually 'means it' until they realise they've hurt someone. Veronica didn't mean to hurt me, you didn't mean to hurt me, nobody fucking means it until it's too late, and it's not your fault, I'm just an over sensitive piece of shit." I told him, not letting our eye contact last long before I looked down at my phone, relieved that I'm actually talking to someone instead of thinking it all by myself.

"I swear, I'm the only one here that would never want to hurt you mate but I'm just worried okay? You're never sober, you're always torturing and killing yourself inside, you've been facing so much shit on your own, you never go out to actually have fun, and you're just... not you anymore. And that's worrying me." He said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Thanks for worrying about me, but I don't need you to." I said.

"Yes, you do. You're not taking care of yourself an-" He said, and I cut him off once more.

"That doesn't mean you're supposed to be taking care of me now does it?" I asked, looking up at him.

"You've taken care of me before, haven't you? You still are taking care of me, and we've been friends for eight years now, I know I'm supposed to take care of you." He said.

"I don't need anyone to take care of me." I told him, busy with my phone.

"Conor, stop it, I said I'm sorry." He said.