Pouring

The End

I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe the pressure in my lungs. My chest. My heart ached. There was no other word for it. It was breaking. I knew it and yet I couldn't believe it. I always thought they exaggerated when they said the pain was real. Physical. I thought they were being dramatic. I had felt loneliness. I had felt betrayed. But I had never experienced heartbreak before now.

Because I was never in love before.

Fuck.

I was in love.

"Go," was all I could say. I sounded nothing like myself. My voice was low and strong and hurt and angry at the same time.

Chris's blue eyes widened in surprise. Of course, he was surprised. I never turned him away. I never stood my ground. I should have felt some twisted satisfaction at that moment. Some vindictive part of me should have felt victorious. But I was just more hurt, angrier, more determined. Upset that I had led this worthless piece of shit to the point where he couldn't fathom the possibility that I would ever, ever realise I deserved better.

"Megs, come on!"

"Don't call me that!"

He retreated slightly, his confusion poorly disguised by a weak attempt at his usual cocky grin. A grin I found irresistible up till fifteen minutes ago.

"Go and don't talk to me again. I'm done. I don't want this. Any of it. I don't want to try and figure things out. I don't want to 'just be friends,' I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

My voice didn't falter. No more tears fell, and I stood up a bit straighter, lifted my head up a bit higher.

He stared at me, bewildered. I could tell I was unrecognisable to him as he struggled to put the pieces together in his head. He had gone too far. He had misjudged my strength, my patience and there was no going back.

"Megs, our lives are built around each other. We have the same circle of friends. We go to the same school..."

He took a step closer. I took a step back. His outreached hand went back into his pocket. Everything that attracted me to him suddenly repelled me. His long, blond hair. His blue eyes with gold streaks. His lopsided smile. They were so endearing to me before. Now they felt strange. His smile was a façade, his eyes were calculating, his hair foolish.

"It doesn't matter. I'll figure it out on my own." And then I went on. "How dare you say that to me? I have been under your thumb for almost a year. A year! I've been crying myself to sleep every night because you say you don't feel anything beyond friendship for me. Then I wake up to countless texts saying that you miss me, you're sorry and you want to talk. And then we talk. You kiss me, knowing how I feel about you. I have always been open with you. And then, you walk me back home and you break up with me again. You have broken up with me more times than we've been together! I don't say anything to anyone so that we don't complicate things for the gang. I stand by you every damn day. You take me everywhere with you and I never say no. I'm like your fucking shadow. Screw that. I'm like your fucking mother! You can't even go shopping for a shirt on your own. And I don't complain. I don't tell you how much it hurts to be around you, knowing you don't feel the same way just so I don't ruin our friendship.

"And now, one guy comes up to talk to me for five seconds and you get jealous. He wasn't even flirting with me, Chris. He's in my English class! But you had to make me look like a fool in front of him, kissing me like that! What the hell were you thinking? And you have the nerve to complain just because I call you out on that? Really? You wish you never met me? Fuck you, Chris! From now on it will feel like you never have."

My fists were curled into balls at my sides. It was taking all my strength to stop myself from slapping him. I was shaking with anger. I didn't care who heard. I was done keeping my feelings inside just so that I don't cause drama. He wanted a show, he was getting it, and so were the servers at Chick King. Thank God, the place was otherwise empty or I would have regretted it on Monday when I showed my face in school again.

Chris shook his head in protest, stuttering, struggling to get the words out. "I just meant, it's so confusing when I think about you. You're my best friend and you look so amazing. You smell so fucking good and I just want you. And then when I'm with you I get scared and..."

"You say the same thing to me literally every day, Chris," I interrupted. "I was fine with being friends. It wasn't what I wanted but I could deal with it. I could get over you if you just let me. But you don't want that, do you? You want to kiss me all the time and still have your options open. Friends don't do that to each other."

He sunk into a chair, head falling into his hands, fingers slipping into his thick hair. I fought the urge to rip it out of his skull. "I'm sorry," he said, "I just don't want to lose you."

"Well, you have." He hadn't. Not yet. My heart ripped a bit more. It was pounding so painfully in my chest. I was afraid I was going to vomit. I couldn't believe I was walking away from him like this, but I had to. I had to think about myself for a change. I knew I would lose my best friend in the process, but it was either that or losing myself.

I thought nothing was worth losing him. I believed it for so long. But not now. Now, I could see he wasn't worth it. He didn't even have the nerve to walk away from me. He couldn't even do that on his own.

"Someday, you're going to realise how wrong you are. You're going to beg me for another chance." The words came out on their own and yet somehow, as I voiced them, I knew they were true. "And I will say no to you. Not to spite you or to get back at you, but because I'll be over you. I won't want you."

I turned on my heels, walked to the door and realised it was pouring outside. I lifted the collar of my jacket and hugged it tightly. I walked out into the rain and rode the next bus home.

***

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