Fools in Love

23. Breakups Make Us Poets

My first real relationship and our first fight. So this is what that feels like.

Cold water in my lungs, weighing me down. A strange sense of calm, confusion and frustration mixed into one. An endless typhoon tugging at the strings of my consciousness until the fear of being torn to shred forces me to relieve the tension. Study. Do homework. Play video games. Watch TV. Do something, anything to bury the memories, but I always end up back in bed, curled beneath the blankets like they'll somehow spare me.

Matt's frantic expression. The color simmering under his cheeks. Nerves evident in every minuscule twitch. The rough sound of his pleading voice. I don't want to think about it because I'm scared to know why he reacted so strangely. I'm scared to know what happens next.

Apologies are more complicated than I'm sorry's and it won't happen again. There has to be intent and honesty behind those words or they mean less than that of a stranger's. I don't know if I'm meant to say them or he is. Was I wrong to storm off like that? Should I have tried to pry the truth out of him in hopes to keep away this sudden tension?

I don't know. I'm lost in an unfamiliar place.

My phone rests on the bedside table. Only seconds pass between my glances. Waiting for a text or a call or some sign from Matt that he wants to make up, that he wants to talk. But then there's hope that he doesn't. Lingering worry and fear festering like an infection in an open wound. What am I meant to say? What do I ask and what do I expect from him?

I don't know.

The door swings open. Tori enters, yawning so wide that his cheeks threaten to snap. When spotting me, he freezes, wide-eyed.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Huh?" I sit up, removing my fogged up glasses to clean with the end of my shirt. "N-Nothing, why?"

Tori puts a hand on his hip. "Something's wrong. It's written all over your face."

I put my glasses back on, tilting my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tori sits at the edge of my bed, lips pursed and arms crossed. He examines me like a scientist in a lab with a new specimen that he plans to rip to shreds. Only I'm not torn apart for his viewing pleasure, instead, he sighs.

"Don't keep your problems bottled up," he orders. "Whatever's going on, at least talk to someone or you'll lose it." He smacks my leg. "I'm gonna hit the shower. There are tissues in my bedside drawer if you need 'em."

"What do you usually use those tissues for?" I call after him with a teasing grin that slips at his immediate response.

"Masturbating, obviously." He disappears into the bathroom with a chuckle.

I don't realize how calm Tori made me until he's gone. I didn't even notice that I was more relaxed with him here. Suppose that's how life works, you don't realize what you have until it's gone. Wow, I'm getting really mopey.

Tori's right though. I should talk to someone. I have no idea what I'm doing and, well, it's about time he knows what's going on. So I wait. I wait curled up on the bed staring at my phone in a weird tug of war with my feelings. Do I want him to call or not? Do I want to call him or not?

Tori emerges, ruffling his thick hair roughly with a towel that is thrown back into the bathroom. He slips on a hoodie, hair a complete mess that he attempts to tame until he spots me staring at him.

"What?" He asks, smacking his own face. "Is there something on my face?"

I shake my head.

"What's up then?" He throws himself into bed, kicking his feet under the covers when reaching for the remote.