You didn't know how much time had passed since you'd stormed out of Emma's apartment. You frankly really didn't give a fuck if you'd been lying in bed for thirty minutes, thirty hours, or thirty days. You couldn't really see yourself giving a fuck about anything ever again, to be blunt.
What finally startled you out of the numb, dull sort of haze you'd been in was a soft knock on the door. You immediately knew it was Grayson because
1. Who else would it be?
and 2. The fucker walked in right away.
"What do you want?" you'd mumbled into your pillow, not bothering to look up and instead keeping your eyes firmly shut.
"E, you have to get up. You've been in here for a day, bro. Let's... get out. Do something. I don't know. You can't keep fucking wallowing in here. It's not worth it. She's—"
"Don't you dare say she's not worth it. You don't know shit, Grayson," you'd responded harshly, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence that would've made you jump up and hit him in his stupid face.
"Well... Ethan, if she just dumped you like it was no big deal after everything you guys have been through then... I don't know. She doesn't seem worth it to me."
Your eyes had snapped open and you finally turned your head to look at him.
"Stop being an idiot. She's important to you too. And yeah, she broke my heart. But I also said some pretty fucked up shit to her and I bet she's still hurting," you'd mumbled, letting out a sigh.
You were still replaying the words you had said to her over and over in your head. You really didn't even know where they came from or why you'd said them, only that in the moment you wanted her to hurt just as badly as you were. You knew the amount of shit Emma dealt with on a daily basis. Telling her to stop caring so much about what others thought and saying that their breakup was her fault alone... well. You knew you'd fucked up pretty badly. Maybe even beyond repair.
You were surprised when Grayson let out a laugh, noticing just how humorless it really sounded. Your gaze had flicked back to his again, brows furrowed.
"What's funny about that?" you'd asked, confusion clear in your tone.
"She doesn't seem to be hurting all that bad, bro. Haven't you seen her post on Instagram? And those photobooth videos or whatever people are posting on Twitter.. Pretty sure she went to some party last night," Grayson had responded, disgust clear in his tone.
You had been more focused on how angry Grayson had sounded than on what he was actually saying. It wasn't like to him talk that way when it came to Emma. You knew that Grayson considered her like a little sister ever since you two had gotten back together. So the venom in his voice had thrown you off. It'd thrown you off until your brain finally snapped back into place and you registered what he'd said.
Instagram post. Photobooth. Party?
Emma didn't party. Not really ever.
"What party?" you'd said after a moment, clearing your throat and sitting up slowly. Your bones ached a little at the change in position— it was your first time moving so much in hours. Or a day, you guessed. You didn't realize a whole day had almost passed and you'd been lying here the entire time. You'd been more focused on other things apparently. Like making sure you kept breathing and that your heart didn't physically fall out of your chest.
You'd reached over and grabbed your phone off your bedside table. No new messages from anyone important. No new messages from Emma.
You'd swiftly slid your finger to the Instagram app and clicked on it. The first photo that greeted you was one that made your chest tighten. Of course it was her. She was always the first one to pop up on your feed when she posted. Probably because you spent so much time on her page, liking her photos, leaving the occasional comment that would send people into a frenzy.
