ƈσʅԃ ιɳ LA < dσɾႦყɳ

1

his tears haunt me. his glossy, red eyes, his heart-wrenching, loud sobs, his trembling figure all bury themselves deep in my heart, corruptive, painful, twisting like a knife. all i can hear as his cries cut the silence is my anger, burning loudly in my mind.

it's too often that i have to watch my best friend fall to pieces in my arms, all because of him. the unbelievability of hopelessly watching him run back to him, time after time, almost as though he's waiting for heartbreak, as though he likes the feeling. he continuously just runs into the fire, expecting to not get burnt.

"dani, what's wrong with me? am i not good enough?" corbyn's broken sob catches my attention, pulling me out of my haze. he looks at me with wide, pain-filled eyes from his place on my sofa, wrapped in my fluffy white blankets. his breaths continue coming out short, uneven, his hair messy on top of his head. i sigh at the situation, hating the familiarity of it.

"corbs, don't say that, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. you're perfect, corbyn," my voice is soft, cloud like, my tone nothing but loving despite the mixed feelings i currently have, and i continue, "he's just a dick who clearly doesn't care about you enough to realise this." i can almost hear the confusing thoughts crossing through corbyn's mind now.

"b-but he loves me," his desperate tone is heartbreaking, "he does care. i know he does. i should go talk to him again." he begins to get up, untangling himself from the blankets.

"no!" my sudden raised voice takes him by surprise, making him slowly sit down again, his eyes wide and trembling. we both stay paralysed for a moment, and i breathe out nervously.

"no. don't go back now corbs. not yet." i can feel corbyn's hesitance to get comfortable again, and i know exactly why.

we've had this conversation too many times now; corbyn's boyfriend, adam, in my eyes at least, is a purely cruel human who gets joy from seeing people in pain. i wouldn't be surprised if he found bullying amusing or kicking puppies fun. corbyn would never be willing to see this; it's as though his mind is blocked from reality, his eyes blinded from the truth through the lies thrown at him. i can't really blame him though; adam is all he's ever known. he's attached to the familiarity and safety of him, of what their relationship used to be like. he's not willing to accept the change. since they got together, he's been manipulated, used, mistreated, disrespected, abused. and every time he runs to me, i let him go again; every time he comes round, he cries, we argue, he cries more and i let him crawl back again, as though we're following a script. i don't want to do this anymore, i want corbyn to be safe again.

"please, corbs, just stay here for tonight. give him some space." my voice is painfully desperate, my hands going to grab his when i can tell he still isn't sure.

"please. it's freezing out anyways. please, corbyn. don't walk away, cause it's cold in LA."