journalism | zorbyn ✓

entry forty-one

long entry!

my mom wasn't home to take me to the park, so i rode my bike. it was a 15 minute ride from my house, and when i got there, i chained my bike up to the bike rack and headed into the park.

i looked around for any sight of you, spotting you sitting on the bench nearest the little pond. the sun was setting, casting a calming orange hue over the entirety of the park.

i shoved my hands into my jean pockets, walking over. i silently sat down next to you on the bench, looking straight ahead at the lake. you glanced over at me, eyes wide. i could tell you were trying to hold back a smile.

"you- you came," you sighed. i rolled my eyes.

"you've got 10 minutes to explain yourself before i bike my ass back home," i snapped, glaring at you. i wasn't sure if i was being too harsh or not. i decided against feeling guilty. i had every right to be upset.

"oh, um- right," you stuttered. "i know you don't have to forgive me for how i've acted, but i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry."

i crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a chilly wind blow through. "why did you do that to me, corbyn? you know how i felt. i thought i knew how you felt. and now i can't help but feel like you led me on."

"i don't know what happened, i-" you frowned. "i was into you, i don't want you to think that i was faking it. but i guess i just felt like i would break your heart."

i scoffed, "ha, no kidding."

"no, listen. i felt like you were too good for me-"

"you're joking. tell me you're joking. i'm too good for you?" i rolled my eyes. "you're one of the most popular guys in school. every teacher loves you. everybody in school wants to fuck you. i'm that unpopular so-called faggot that gets picked on in the hallways. i have to work my ass off every single day to get good grades and focus on my goals. i barely have a fucking social life!" i felt my voice crack. i was on the brink of tears, but i couldn't cry now. i'd look crazy if i cried. it would undo every point i was trying to get across. "and you have the audacity to tell me that i'm too good for you?"

i stood abruptly, regretting even coming out to meet you tonight. you reached out and grabbed my wrist, keeping me from walking away.

"zach, that came out wrong. that's not what i meant-"

"then what did you mean, corbyn?" i almost yelled. the air was cool as night had fallen but it was thick with tension. "i'm sick of feeling like you're playing with my goddamn head."

"i- um-" you stumbled over your words, desperately wracking your brain for something to say. "zach- i-"

"save it. i'm done." i yanked my wrist away, storming off.

"zach, i'm sorry!" you called after me. i ignored you, walking back to my bike. you ran after me, trying to catch up. i angrily tried to unchain my bike, tears swimming in my eyes. you grabbed my hands, trying to stop me. i fought against you, flailing my arms. "zach, stop."

"let me go, corbyn," i growled lowly. "let me fucking go!" i refused to look at you, the tears flowing from my eyes. "corbyn, let go!" i screamed. i sobbed, feeling weak as you pulled me close. we sat down on the ground and you held my head against your chest as i cried. i looked a mess, i was sure.

"shh, zach, you have to calm down," you shushed. you stroked the back of my head softly, holding me tightly so i wouldn't try to get away. i hiccuped and shuddered as i tried to calm my breathing but it was just too much. too much too fast. "zach, calm down."

but i couldn't. i began shaking, i felt light headed. like i was having a panic attack. i felt sweaty and hot and i didn't know how to stop it. my chest heaved as i tried to get breaths in, but it was even harder to get breaths out.