𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤.♡

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ＸＩＸ

ＪＵＮＧＫＯＯＫ

It's not the sun the one that wakes me up, despite it having been up for a while, not even the sound of the cars honking in the distance. It's the gentle caress of skin on skin, making goosebumps rise and my eyelids flutter.

I slowly crack one eye open and the smile that blooms on my face is automatic. Jojo's cuddled up on her side right next to me, her head laying between my chest and shoulder, arms splayed out to hug my torso like a teddy bear. But what really does it for me is her left leg thrown across my side. She keeps moving in her sleep and it's doing things to me. I can't breathe.

I suddenly realize that I'm only wearing my boxers. Nothing else.

Oh God.

I lift a shaky hand and try to detach her leg but my fingers linger for too long and she suddenly stirs. Her lips nudge my chest and unconsciously give the latter a tender kiss. Her eyes slowly open. For a moment it looks like she doesn't know where she is but then the realization dawns on her.

"Good morning."

Shit.

Her raspy voice only makes it harder for me to keep myself collected.

"Morning, " I manage.

She sits up and drags a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Why is your nice body the first thing I see? I'm jealous, " she huffs.

I open and close my mouth like a fish, caught on the spot. I'd never thought of my body as particularly nice. "It does its job so yeah, I guess, " I admit aloud.

At that her eyes drag down to a very unholy spot in between my legs. She smirks. " Oh, it does its job, alright. I think you have some problems with morning wood, my boy."

I grab the sheets on the side and swing them over my legs, embarrassment setting my face aflame.

She bursts out laughing. "Relax. It's not like I've never seen a guy with no pants before. Though, I'm kinda disappointed. I was expecting for you to have Lighting Mcqueen patterns on your underwear. " She shakes her head mockingly. "They're so plain."

I uncover my legs once again and this time I don't care. Let her see whatever she wants.

She stops laughing. Gives another glance to the crime scene. Gulps. "Yeah, like I said. Plain."

This whole exchange is so entertaining, I feel my insides flutter with joy. Last night's episode is forgotten in a ditch with no problem. We're back to the old times.

I get up and pace around the room, in search of a glass of water. My throat is parched.

"You know what? Go take a cold shower. All that–" she gestures toward my middle with a wave of her hand, "– is distracting me."

I stop pacing. "You know what? I'll put some pants on if you put some food on your stomach. That's a fair deal."

The color completely drains from her face, replaced by a dark expression that seeps the life out of it. Regret weighs me down.

"I'm never eating again, " she says, while her eyes bore holes into the floor. " Not until I reach my goal weight."

I drag a hand across my face and rub it. Hard. My sanity is on the brink of falling apart. "Then what are you gonna do?" I ask, frustration finally creeping on my voice. "When you get to your goal weight."

She shrugs. "I'm just gonna keep being unhappy, I guess."

It's the way she puts the words out there so easily that draws the line for me. So carelessly, like I mean nothing to her. Like she means nothing to herself.

"This is ridiculous. You know you're harming yourself and you still keep doing it. You know you're not gonna change anything in the end and you still keep doing it. I don't get it."

"Oh yeah?" she spits, her own voice full of poisonous venom. "Why do you keep living if you know you're gonna die one day? Huh, Juan? Why do you do it?"

"This is killing you!"

"I don't care!"

I flinch. It takes me a while to gather myself before I muster the strength to spell out the next few words. "I don't even know why I care about you when you don't even care about yourself."

Her lips curl into a half smile but it doesn't exactly reach her eyes.

"You're right, " she says. "I don't."

Silence.

"Maybe you should go now."

I look up into her face but she's not looking at me, too focused on a spot on the wall. She's telling me to leave. To get the hell out of here. I'm suddenly realizing the absurdity of all this —me shirtless and half nude, boxers stuck to my body like gauze, having a fight with the girl I love with all my heart. I realize the enormity of it. Of how much I love her, of how much I'm hurt by seeing her hurt and I choose to leave.

I pick up my pants from where they lay carelessly on the floor and put them on in excruciating slow movements. I grab the belt and the T-shirt and make my way out of the apartment. Her eyes never leave that spot.

I shut the door behind me and lean my head on its cool ugly surface.

What an ugly mustard -yellow door.

" Jojo, don't do this, " I say, loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, please."

No answer.

The anger falls off me in waves I can't control, swallowing me whole until my eyes see black. I kick the door so hard, my leg grows limp. Another punch and I think I've cracked the wood but I don't care. I don't give a shit. I scream and slam my fists and palms like a madman throwing a tantrum.

"Dammit! Why do you keep doing this?! Stop it, damn you! You're hurting yourself for fuck's sake!"

"You're hurting me, " I add in nothing more than a whisper, my voice already hoarse.

The door never opens.