Fragmented ✔️

23. Sweetest downfall

My chest tightened, and the cloth dropped to the floor. I'd wanted to have this conversation since the day I found Matt sat there in that first group therapy session. But now, I wasn't so sure if I could hear his story, if I could muster the right reaction to something he held so close to his heart.

I don't know why I assumed the person he lost would have merely been a friend. Had the signs been there all along, but I was blinded by my own grief to see the trauma he was bearing on his shoulders?

Zaire bent over to retrieve the wet washcloth, but Matt swooped in first, his stare holding mine the entire time. I hated the way he was looking at me. As if his secret would break me, but he was the one suffering in silence. I saw that pain written all over his face, etched in every line on his furrowed forehead, and I wanted to smooth them away.

"Thanks, mate. I'll take it from here." Matt turned to Zaire and delivered a weak smile, offering him an out from the tension building in the room.

I couldn't tear my gaze from Matt's and hardly registered Zaire leaving us alone. A metallic taste filled my mouth as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.

"Did you want a shower?"

That acrid smell of vomit lingered in my hair and on my clothes. Thanks to worry seeping through every pore of my body, I had no space left to be embarrassed, so I nodded and stumbled after him to the bathroom.

Squinting as the fluorescent lighting attacked my vision, I did a double-take at the person staring back. My reflection in the over-sink mirror caused my heart to stutter and my stomach to curl in a renewed sense of revulsion.

My paper-thin skin appeared dull and lifeless. I dragged my fingers under my eyes, through the smears of mascara, eyeshadow and eyeliner, leaving stains of charcoal tears in their wake. The sigh I released hurt as it passed the barrier of my sunken chest. Defeated. Broken. Exhausted.

"I look like shit. I looked amazing when Liv did my make up. But this girl mentioned my scar, and I couldn't handle it. I'm so fucking stupid. It's a bit of skin." I prodded the raised line and traced it down my cheek.

Matt stood right behind me but never made contact; his body heat begging for my numbed hands to reach for him. "Don't do that." His voice curled around my ear as he kept it low, barely above a whisper. If he pressed his chest on my back, I was sure I would feel the erratic beat of his heart. But he maintained a thin, invisible wall between our bodies.

"What?"

"Belittle yourself because of how you reacted. It's okay to get mad." The tips of his fingers brushed up my arms and feathered along the straps of my lace bralette. His eyes shadowed his actions, but I could still see each lost dream in them.

"But she didn't know it was real. I should have just explained and moved on. Not run away like every other time. When will this stop?" I murmured, my chin dropped and my lids closed. It wasn't about me. Our slow dance was only delaying the inevitable. Bailey.

He gripped my shoulders and spun me so I had no choice but to stare up at those honeyed pools. Even the broken and damaged version of Matt cast its own magical spell over me. "You're doing amazing. It takes time. And for the record, I still think you look gorgeous."

"Don't do that. Lie to me because you think it will make me feel better. It doesn't." But it did. He did. He could tell me a million lies and I wouldn't hold them against him and that was my own terrifying truth. Amongst all this turmoil, I knew from this moment onwards I would blindly want him. "Sometimes I need to hear the truth."

"Okay, you look like shit."

We both allowed ourselves to laugh through the sorrow. Matt brushed my ratty strands of hair away from my face and held my cheeks for a while, no words exchanged as our laughter died down. His lips parted to speak but stayed silent, his stare pulling more of that desire from within me.