The Emancipation of a Fuckboy [BxB] √

Chapter Seven

Dominic

"I don't want to go home" I screamed.

The day had arrived and I hated that it had to swoop in so fast that I did not even have at least a small amount of time to prepare for it. I hated it so much that I actually wished to get tangled into an unfortunate tragic accident yesterday and just die on the spot so I'd never live to see this day come and take me back to a place where I don't want to be but, apparently, that did not happen so here I am today, alive and kicking, absolutely scared of heading back home. And although, I've missed my mom and her "I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom" shenanigans, and my little sister with her rude ass tongue who by the way has quickly transformed into a spitting image of my mom who is probably swooning over Shawn Mendes and those popular Korean boy bands at this moment, but I don't really want to go home just yet. Singapore saw me cry under the shower, it saw me become drunk as fuck and woke up to a banging headache the next morning, it saw me hook up with a lot of dudes and it already made itself a truly comfortable bed of roses and nails for me to sleep. Singapore basically had me at my worst. I became really comfortable with my daily set up here and it's so terrifying to go back home and just start all over again.

I screamed inside my head. It would have been a loud ass scream at the very top of my lungs. It would have been a piercing scream that might probably shatter all of the windows. It would have been a commanding scream that should settle everything at once. But it was not, it was just a powerless voice crippled inside my head. After staring at my closet for god knows how long, I reluctantly started packing my things as I began to notice my hands shaking almost like the ground under a passing train. I got my shirts, tops, jeans, what else?

"Should I bring all of these?" I muttered under my breath. I clearly don't know if I should bring all of my clothes back home or should I just leave most of them here but then just when I was not expecting it, I saw a very familiar t-shirt at the very bottom of the closet. My eyes were securely pinned to it like it has some sort of hypnotizing ability. It was Valentine's t-shirt that I actually forgot to return.

"Why the hell is this even here?" I asked myself wondering about how it got here until I abruptly rode the train back to memory lane. Right, I brought this shirt with me to remind me of Valentine and all of those good memories that we had but that after everything that happened to me here, I don't even fucking remember the reason why I brought this.

I pulled the shirt and sniffed it like a flower. Oh god, five years have already gone and passed, and yet there is that distinct smell of Valentine's cologne lingering from the shirt bluntly reminding me of how horrible I am as a human being. I clearly don't want to reminisce about all of those agonies and heinousness that I created. I shattered Valentine real hard just after finding a way to put him back together piece by piece, and although I don't know how quick he had recovered from that or who helped him heal from the pain, but I do know for sure that I did enough damage to bruise him for life. Valerie doesn't even realize that it had recoil damage and that recoil has hit me hard enough that it broke me as much. The smell of those memories kicked my nostril that I didn't even notice that I was already hugging the shirt and a single tear had already fallen from my eye.

"Hello?" I answered my phone without even bothering to check on who's calling.

"Hey there, Dominic" The deep voice from the other line spoke.

"Uhm, do I know you?" I asked after quickly looking at who's calling which is a new number of course.

"Oh sorry. It's me, Jonathan"

Oh wow, Jonathan did really got my number and he's calling me again for what? A sequel?

"Oh hey, Jonathan. How are you?" I mouthed.