[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒]

𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

clearly.

"If I broke up with you right now, I honestly feel like you would think nothing of it. You would think nothing of it and move on easily like none of this happened like we never happened," I had told him before.

I genuinely did feel this way. London didn't understand how hard it was for me to get out of a toxic friendship. At some point, yes, I did feel like I deserved to be treated the way I was by Darion, but that was only because I allowed him to, which was my fault. After all, I should've set boundaries.

London did the unexpected and stood up to gather his clothes and put them back on with his back to me.

I didn't want to be right, but I was. Even though I didn't break up with London, I thought I kind of spoke a break up into existence.

He would go on and think nothing of this — us

Did I just ruin my relationship with the one I love? Why didn't I just not say anything? I was just saying how I felt, speaking your thoughts is hardly a crime.

"So where are you going now?" I asked, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. "You're not going to leave the house, come back late, and have my parents worried again."

"I'm not going anywhere outside the house," he said calmly.

"But you're not staying in this room, correct?"

"Correct."

"Right, of course. Why do you do that?" I demanded. "You can't just get up and leave every time someone says something you don't want to hear—"

"Are you kidding me?! You just told me that I don't care about you!" He turned around, fuming. I had recoiled at the elevation of his voice, but I yelled back.

"I never said that you don't care about me!"

"You implied it by saying I could walk away and think nothing of our relationship if you were to break up with me."

"Well, you know what, yeah, I did imply it, but that's how I feel, and that's what you're confirming by leaving again."

"Everything leads up to something, so if I didn't care about you, I would not be in this room right now."

"So then why're you leaving?"

"My feelings are hurt," he said through his clenched teeth.

"Because of what I said?"

"Yes. How is that even a question?" He continued. "Why do you think it was hard for me to even start a relationship with you, to begin with? Because I was afraid that if I did, you would hurt me, in some way or betray me. And you have betrayed me," he accused.

"I have?"

"You knew and still know how I feel about Darion, and even though this was my fault, you still went back to him after you told me what he did to you. You really don't know how that made me feel?"

I shook my head no.

"And even now it makes me wonder if we were to break up, would you use him as a rebound."

I reached and grabbed his hand. "I would never." This actually offended me.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe that." He took his hand from my grasp.

"Believe me. I would never do something knowing that it would hurt you."

He shook his head, chuckling a little. "You say this, yet you've done it already."

"Knowing what I know now, London!" I asserted. "I didn't know, okay, I didn't know that you saw him as competition."

London laughed. "Oh my god, what? Paris, why the fu—" he covered his face. "Why would I think of the fiend as competition?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm trying to figure out."

"I have never found that boy to be my competition. I will never think of that boy as my competition. And I certainly don't think of that boy as competition."

"Then why were you so betrayed when I took him back as a friend?"

"Because I thought you knew better than to forgive someone who's hurt you. But I guess that hypocritical of me to think, right—"

"You've never hurt me intentionally," I admitted.

"Paris, please . . ."

"Please what?"

"No more excuses for me." He took my hands gently in his and squeezed them before sitting down on the bed in front of me. "I'm sorry, for a lot of things I've said tonight, and for yelling at you."

"It's okay, you can't be cool, calm and collected all the time," I said, kissing his shoulder. "I'm sorry, too, for . . . a lot of things, for how I've made you feel, for hurting your feelings tonight and betraying you."

"Don't be sorry."

"But I will be."

He turned around to look at me. "I'm not looking for forgiveness. Okay? I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I'm not looking for forgiveness either, I should just be grateful that you still love me."

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Still? Why would I stop?"

"No reason," I chuckled. "I love you, too."

We kissed passionately and he ended up in the bed with me again. We made up some more without saying too many words but instead got down and busy a second time. I was in his arms again when we were finished.

I had pondered on something I never asked or never really thought of.

"London?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for bringing this up again, but the night you left . . . Where did you go?"

There was a long silence before he replied. "I just went to the 7/11 and smoked a cigarette."

I sat up, distraught. "You did what?!" I did point out that he smelt of cigarettes but didn't think much of it.

"I know, I'm sorry. But what you told me angered me, that's why I left in the first place. I didn't like hearing that someone took advantage of you."

I sighed. "So, you're a smoker now, huh?"

"I'm not a smoker, Paris. I just needed something to calm me down at the time."

"Did it work?"

"No."

I sighed again, lying back down on his chest.