During November

Chapter 6 - Jordan

Chapter 6: This Reckless World

Chaos. Chaos with a capital 'c'. Chaos with the capacity to ruin. Chaos with the ability to overtake. Chaos in the form of a single, human being. In the form of a boy, hair the colour of dark chocolate, eyes filled with the brightness of spring grass, lips that curve into a perfect smile.

How can a boy so chaotic, so destructive, hold a beauty that rallied that of handmade silk, of diamonds cut with precision, of autumn leaves the colour of blood? How can a boy so unlovable be loved by so many? How can someone so destructive be so destroyed?

15 minutes. That's all it takes for your whole life to change. Bullshit. It can change in a split second. One look, one breath, one second and you're in a different reality. He gave me a reality unlike anything I had heard of before. A reality of fire and gasoline, of danger and exhilaration, of suffocating smoke that burnt my lungs.

He changed my life with a flick of a lighter, a lit cigarette and a breath of addiction. I couldn't have helped falling for him even if I tried.

And I tried. I tried so fucking hard.

I should have tried harder.

But it's so difficult to pretend you don't care. To pretend like you aren't falling in love. To pretend that while the universe is screaming no, you aren't rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor, eyes shut tightly, hands covering your ears as you whisper, over and over again, yes.

He tumbled into my life, a tragic mess of dark hair and eyes the colour of emerald. He stumbled and fell into my heart with his honey voice and ocean deep emotions and he will not leave.

He was deprived of love, and I was so painfully full of it. How could I not fall for him? Him and his beautiful, reckless, painstakingly careless demeanour?

When he arrived on my doorstep, windblown hair, cheeks tinged pink from the cold, lips quivering, cigarette dangling between his lips, I lost my breath. I lost my voice. I lost everything that made me the person I was.

It isn't as though he was even there to see me, but all I could think of when I opened that door was his lips on mine, hands caressing my face, his beautiful emerald eyes connecting with my stormy grey ones. All I could think of was his hands on me.

Eleanor Atkinson. She was nothing special, really, but to him she was what kept the world spinning. She gave him breath, gave him a voice, gave him everything that made him the person he was. My sister was what made him happy and he has no idea how desperately I wanted to take her position in his arms.

How even after all this time, as selfish as it is, I still wish I had been the one holding his hand.

My sister left September 18th. It was as though he knew the moment I opened the door. His face fell, dark eyebrows drawing together, hair falling in front of his face as he stared at me. It was the first time he really looked at me. He looked at me the way I had always begged for him to look at me, but in that second in which his emerald eyes connected with mine, I was drenched in fear.

I could barely bring myself to tell him.

But I did. I told him the truth and in return he manipulated me, lied to me, but worst of all, he made me questions my own truths.

He was a risk. A risk that, in this reckless world I'm living in, was irresistible. I took him like a drug, but my supply has been cut and I'm beginning to realise just how badly my addiction fucked up my life.

He is like nothing I have experienced before. This combination of fear and exhilaration. It's as though I am falling down this dark abyss of nothing and everything all at once. My head is full of pain and hurt, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering on the edges of my mind, my body remembering the way his skin felt as it brushed against mine, even if it was only for a second.

I crave it. I crave him. All of him. Even as I burn to ashes, even as I crumble and break, even as I fall through the never ending dark abyss, I still relish in the way his lips had felt against mine. Just once, but once was enough to send me sprawling into my own form of deception.

Now I'm trying to pick myself up to win this war that I waged on myself and conquer the love for this boy that is killing me from the inside out. I'm trying so hard to help myself but I am not bulletproof, I am not immune to the grief of my fallen soldiers, and I am not oblivious to the fact that I am fighting this battle on my own.

Even if I do win, what glory do I await? How many scars will I obtain that will never heal? How do I face my greatest fear if he won't even come out to fight me?

He is pain, he is hurt, he is regret. I fell in love with him long before he became those things, but I can't let him go knowing that I am the reason he became them in the first place.

He loved Eleanor, yes. But he loved his sister more. And if it hadn't been for me, if I hadn't told him the truth, then he wouldn't have gotten drunk that night. He wouldn't have gotten in that car. He wouldn't have collided with that truck.

If it hadn't been for me, his sister wouldn't be dead.

A/n
I have such bad writers block, I don't think I even remember how to write so sorry if this is a shitty chapter, but anyway.

I'd love if you could comment and give me some feedback on how you think this book is going so far, or vote if you're enjoying it. Thank you to my very few readers though! I appreciate you!