Break In My Heart

22. The Rumor

A week later, I was starting to feel a bit more like myself.

After my date with Tyler, I started forcing myself to eat, and little by little, I gained my appetite back, though the perpetual knots that my stomach was tied in made it hard at times. Sleep came and went in waves that made nighttime more of a bag of surprises rather than a time to relax; some nights I was able to fall into a mediocre dreamless sleep, and other nights, I'd lie awake staring at the ceiling too awake to go to sleep but too mentally exhausted to stay awake. The latter nights were the worst and I would feel their effects throughout the day. However, those moments would be momentarily outshined by bouts of happiness– or rather, feeling okay.

I found those small moments in the chaos that made up my family, the hugs from my dads, and falling into the arms of my boyfriend in the studio or at his house. But while my clutch on those things were tightening and my dependence on them increased, my interest for things that used to take up my entire life like writing and football was slowly bleeding from me, leaving me drained and hollow.

And it scared me.

I realized what was happening though, the feeling of each step feeling heavier than the last and the constant tug of war the joyful moments and constant fear of Kyra looming over my head was engaged in– I was depressed, or at least in a minor depression. The realization of my own stupidity had long dawned on me and was now perched on my shoulder like an owl, its razor-sharp talons digging into my soft tissue and urging me to take the weight off of my shoulders and share it with those that I knew cared. My fathers, my sister, but most importantly, Tyler.

"You're just being stupid and stupidity helps no one". The words Ian had spoken were tattooed on the inside of my eyelids and stuck on repeat in my head. As much as I usually hated to admit it, he was right. It was time to put my tough-guy mask on the shelf and face what I'd done, which started by coming clean and doing one of the things I stubbornly hated most– asking for help.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a knock at my door. I blinked a few times and realized I'd been blankly staring at myself in the mirror for the past few minutes.

I cleared my throat. "Come in."

The door cracked open as I grabbed the oversized sweatshirt that I'd laid across my bed before I slipped it on over my bare torso. I was reaching for my denim jacket that would've completed my look when someone said, "Man, you end the show right when I get here."

I jumped when I turned and saw Tyler as he closed my door, a bag in one hand, and a playful grin playing on his face. I blush stained my cheeks as I turned back toward my jacket once I realized he was referring to my body.

"Ty, what are you doing here?"

"What? I don't even get a 'hi' anymore?" He asked as he sat on my bed, putting the bag to the side.

"Hi, Tyler," I said dramatically before I made a move to go back to my mirror to make sure that I looked decent. But, Tyler being Tyler didn't let me take two steps before he pulled on one of the straps of my cargo pants with such force that I fell back on the bed and landed right into his lap, as rom-com as it sounded.

"Hi, Addison," he mocked before he placed a kiss on my lips. I couldn't contain the school-girl giggles that escaped my lips despite my best efforts, and gently gripped the back of his head.

"See? That's better," he said with a grin as he pulled away.

"Sorry, this morning has been stressful," I admitted, though it really translated to "I'm now stuck in the 'low' of the endless loop of highs and lows I've been feeling and it sucks'.