Resentment - (18+)

C40

MIA

I'm tossing and turning in my bed, unable to rest with the uneasy feeling that's weighing on my chest.

There's something about me and Justin's recent encounter that isn't sitting right with me. I'm not sure if it was the fact that he was actually nice for more than five seconds, or the fact that he must've stalked the hell out of me to figure out where that dinner meeting was going to be. (The restaurant, though upscale, is considered a hole in a wall and is relatively new to the city.)

I had a lot going on back then that I just couldn't tell you about...I couldn't tell anyone this...

Sighing, I pull back the covers on my bed and go out to my living room. I empty my purse onto the counter and grab my phone, wondering if he'll answer at this hour, but I hesitate, seeing two crumpled envelopes next to my lip gloss.

One of them is the envelope that Justin gave me at my birthday dinner, and I've continued to carry it with me, never thinking about opening it because I figured it would just be a silly list of the many ways we annoyed each other since living in the condo together. I pick it up and run my fingers along the sealed flap, smiling as I read the worn ink that's across the seal: Don't open this until the next time we aren't talking.

How appropriate...

But this other one I don't recall, and I'm pretty sure I would've noticed it since I switched purses yesterday, so maybe it's from Michelle?

I go into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. And then I take the envelopes into my bedroom and slide under the covers so that I can read them.

I open the envelope from Justin first:

Mia,

I will always love you. I need you to remember that. No matter what...

Love,
Justin

I open the one from Michelle next.

Or, so I thought.

Mia,

Ten years ago you fell into my life at the perfect moment. And when I say "fell" I don't really mean "fell," because I had to fight like hell to get you... Anyway, when we became friends, you made me feel normal, like I was someone real beneath the "Justin Bieber" that everyone in school wanted me to be. You were sarcastic as hell (I loved that about you), undeniably beautiful, and the one thing that kept me sane when I had to face my father alone at night.

I never told you this, mostly because I thought I knew you well enough that you would have made me turn him in, but whenever I spent the night at home and I wasn't with you, he would come home drunk and take all of his insecurities out on me.

Sometimes I fought back, sometimes I didn't. But I got hurt every time.

I remember after a game when you were placing ice packs against my back, when you found one of the bruises that he'd left, I wanted to tell you so badly that it did not happen in practice. That it was actually the result of what happened after that first time I brought you back to my place. Ironically, I thought telling you that would hurt you more than the physical pain hurt me. So I kept it inside.

I kept everything inside.

Those times I didn't come to school for days in a row were because I was busy getting stitched up so that no one would know anything. That day that I flaked on you for your birthday, was because I told my dad that I was going to Harvard and he didn't appreciate that. Those times when I wouldn't text you back, when I was giving one and two word responses were only because I knew if I gave anything more, you'd see right through it.

I just wasn't ready for that.

I was still trying to figure this shit out myself.

I want you to know that two weeks before prom, I resented you and I'm ashamed to say that I plotted out how I would treat you in advance. I did all of those things on purpose. Because at the time, I was stupid and selfish and I wanted you to feel how you were making me feel.

I didn't know this at the time, but as I'm writing this and looking back, I can see things perfectly clearly. I can see that you also hid how terribly your mom was treating you, and that your absences at my games weren't personal. They were necessary. Necessary so that you could finish your application to Western Peak, necessary so that you could use the few hours away from your mom to do something productive outside of our relationship.

I also realized that I should have been happier for you when you were crowned Miss Popular, especially since you'd deserved the title ever since sophomore year. (For the record, no bull shit, I don't know any guy at Central High who didn't have a crush on you at some point during our high school careers.)

When it was my birthday, I assumed that you had forgotten, but I feel foolish now even writing that because a year or so after we'd broken up, my dad called me in a drunken rage and laughed about how "You should have seen that girl that showed up to the house looking pathetic on your birthday. She had balloons and a card and everything. She was begging to see you, damn near crying, but I did the right thing because I'm your father. I turned her away, ripped up the card and popped all those balloons. You're welcome."

I should have shown up to your house the night before graduation and apologized for the rumors and for my behavior at prom. I should have told you that the salutatorian and the valedictorian needed to be there together. And I should have joked with you about the fact that technically we should have both been valedictorians, about how it would have happened if I hadn't purposely flunked a few tests in English, just to get you to tutor me.

I thought about you all summer, so much so that I pulled my acceptance from Harvard and switched to Western Peak. I applied for their law program the second you told me you were going there, so imagine how stunned I was freshman year when "Mia Gray" was nowhere to be found in the student directory.

Without you, I had no confidante, no right hand person to entrust all my secrets to. And ever since we broke up, I've had to pay people to listen to how I feel.

I'm not sure if you'll ever read this letter. I'm not sure if I'll give this to you and tell you what it is, but if you happen to read it, if you happen to understand why we broke up the way that we did, and why I honestly feel that you're the only girl that I'll ever love, please text me and tell me that you read it. Or tell me that you understand.

Love,
Justin.

MIA: I read it.

(A/N): so wattpad is being a little shit again and not updating or, saying I deleted this story but i haven't. I'm updating from a phone so maybe that's why it's being crazy. Also. The next update is the last chapter. Let's cry together

So my meme idea made the chapter show up last time so... enjoy