I'm an emotional, sobbing mess when I sit back down on my bed in my room.

I wish that I never saw him and Camila kiss in the first place. I wish he just hid it from me, truthfully.

I regret going outside to talk to him, even though it finally forced me to say the words to him that I've needed to say for months now.

I'm doing my best to cry silently, pressing my face into my hands to try and muffle my sobs.

It's a lousy attempt because Jasmine sits up in her bed, woken up by the emotional crisis I seem to be having over here.

"Lexi? What's wrong?" she asks me, standing up off her bed and walking over to sit next to me instead.

She wraps her arm around my shoulder and it tears my heart to shreds as I think about how many times Bryce has comforted me in this same way.

I finally get a grip of myself long enough to say something despite the hot tears still flowing down my cheeks.

"Bryce and I just agreed to be only friends. We agreed that there can't be anything romantic between us anymore, and he didn't even fight me on it," I tell her, recalling how easily Bryce complied to my wishes.

She suddenly scoots away from me, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"What do you mean? He said yes to that? That can't be right . . ." she starts, seeming as if her mind is racing.

"What do you mean, Jazzy? Do you know something that I don't?" I ask her, and her immediate reaction is to quickly shake her head.

"No . . . I just . . . He seriously just gave up on you guys? But . . ." she trails off, before getting up from her seat, rummaging through the mess of sheets on her bed before she finds her phone.

"Where is he right now? I have to go talk to him," she then asks me as she tries to step out the door, typing something on her phone.

I quickly grab her wrist, causing her to halt in her tracks.

"Please, Jasmine? Just leave this to me. I can deal with it myself. It's just a little bit of high school heartbreak, right? I mean, everyone experiences it so I can probably just get over myself."

She frowns at me, obeying my wishes by sitting back down down on her bed.

I give her a grateful smile before standing up, adjusting the straps of my tank top and grabbing my room key off of the bed beside me.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, but there's no need to worry about me. I'm just going to go splash my face with some cold water and then I'll be back. You can go to sleep," I tell her, and she gives me a frustrated frown, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.

It smudges some of the eyeliner that she hasn't bothered to take off, but she lays back down in bed, rolling her eyes at me.

"Okay, but I'm not letting this go," she says with a yawn, and I nod to her as I step out of the room.

I walk all the way down the hallway to where the bathrooms are, which involves me passing the main stairwell. A shadowy figure seated on the top stair catches my eye, and I recognize that's it's Bryce's back that I'm staring at straight away.

"Bryce? Why aren't you in your room?" I ask him, walking over to see that he's staring blankly at the ground in front of him.

He ignores me even as I walk over to sit down beside him, and I'm growing more and more concerned by the minute.

It's comedic, truly, how quickly I find myself back at the side even after I try to cut all ties off between us. I should know by now that I'm always going to feel the need to look out for him, and that there's no point in running away from him when I know darn well what'll happen whenever either of us are hurting.

"Are you okay?" I ask him, and when he still doesn't respond to me, I reach for his chin, tilting his face towards me.

I gasp as I look at the boy sitting in front of me.

His eyes are red and tears are staining his cheeks, a sure sign that he's been crying.

There's something hollow and broken about the way he's looking at me now, and I'm scared for him as I watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his breathing grows heavier and heavier.

"Bryce? Talk to me. What's happening?" I ask him, concern evident in my voice as I try and hold his face close to mine.

He pulls away from me and I have to try hard not to feel awful that my touch can no longer comfort him.

He looks away from me, ducking his face so that I can no longer see him. His hands are shaking like mad where they're resting in his lap, and there are so many thoughts swirling through my head right now.

"You're scaring me," I state, and he finally says something in response.

"Panic attack. I didn't pack my fucking medication. Just give me a minute," he grits out, shutting his eyes.

He breathes in deeply through his mouth, holding it for a handful of seconds before he exhales out from his nose. He repeats the process over and over again and I watch him quietly, all the way until he opens his eyes again.

"Panic attack? Medication? What?" I ask incredulously, and Bryce grips his knees as if he's trying to keep focused.

Bryce's gaze is focused on the bricks of the wall in front of him. It's hurting me to see him this way, and I really badly want to do my best to help him, which is why I ask him one final question.

"Is there anything I can do to help, or would you rather I leave?" I ask him.

He doesn't give me a verbal reply, instead reaching for my hand. He links his trembling fingers with my own and I give him a squeeze.

"You have anxiety? Like, actually severe anxiety?" I ask him, and he nods his head at the wall in reply to me.

"I don't like taking the Xanax that I'm prescribed because it makes me feel like a druggie. My dad kept telling me to pack it just in case but I'm a fucking idiot so I didn't listen," Bryce whispers to me, and I frown a little at the way that's he's putting himself down.

"You're not a 'druggie' for taking prescription drugs, Bryce. You're not an idiot either," I tell him, and he lets out a small sigh.

He seems to have stopped repeating that deep breathing exercise that he had just been doing, and now he's using his free hand to wipe the stray tears off his cheeks.

"You're so gentle and kind with me. I'm not used to it. My whole life I've had people telling me to 'man-up', telling me that it's all just in my head and that there's really nothing wrong with me, which just makes me feel worse," Bryce tells me, and he then lets out a ragged breath.

I look up at him and he gives me a weak smile.

I raise a hand to his cheek and this time he doesn't move away, doing the opposite by leaning his face into my palm.

I mirror his grin, and he bites his lip a little, making me let out a small giggle.

"This wasn't a cry for attention, I promise. I know you want space from me, and you're more than welcome to leave whenever you want," he tells me, and I shake my head at him.

"It's okay. Friends are still there for each other, no?" I reply, and he sighs, hesitantly nodding in agreement.

"You say that I'm not a druggie now, but that's not what you thought when I told you before about the drugs I've taken," he says quietly, and I feel my eyes widen.

I tilt my head to the side. "I didn't understand why you took them, but now I know. There's nothing wrong with a prescription," I tell him, but he purses his lips together as he stares at me.

"The weed I've smoked wasn't prescription," he snorts.

"But you did it for the same reason, did you not? You needed the numbing effect," I state, and Bryce's smiles grows more and more genuine by the minute.

"You're so good at reading me. It's fucking scary," he jokes, and I grin back at him.

I slowly remove my hand from Bryce's face, and I instant;y miss the contact. He seems to feel the same way because he then takes his hands in mine just as he does ever so often, and I glance down to where they're resting in my lap.

"Is this okay?" he asks me, and I give him a small nod, resting my head on his shoulder.

"You didn't even say goodnight to me. You just got up and left," he says meekly after a few seconds, and I'm suddenly ashamed of my actions.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think I would be able to get words out because I was crying so hard. God, I'm such a mess," I laugh, and Bryce chuckles along with me, lifting a bit of the tension.

"So am I, darling. So am I," he says, and I squint at him.

"What did I say about nicknames?" I counter, and his eyes regain their familiar twinkle that had disappeared in the past few minutes we've spent out here.

"You only ruled out 'baby' and 'sweetheart', if I recall correctly," he grins, and all I can do is shake my head at him with a huge, ridiculous smile on my face.

"You should go back to bed. I'll be fine," Bryce says, standing up and bringing me with him.

He drops my hands and we just stand there, staring at each other for a moment.

Now seems like the perfect moment for a goodnight kiss, but I think I've permanently managed to scar Bryce from making any moves towards me.

It's not what my heart was telling me to do, but I let my brain take charge in that moment no matter how much is pained me to do so.

I nod at him, giving his hand a final squeeze before pulling away from him.

"Goodnight, Bryce," I say quietly, taking a careful step backwards away from him.

"Goodnight. Sleep well," he tells me, beginning to turn around on his heel.

He takes a few steps towards the part of the landing where the stairs begin to trail upwards, but I stop him right before he leaves.

"Jasmine found it suspiciously strange that you agreed to give up whatever romantic thing we had going on. Why's that?" I ask him, and he doesn't even look back at me when he replies.

"I have no clue what she's talking about," he claims, continuing up the stairs and out of my line of view.

My tears have dried up now so there's no need for the cold water on my face anymore, which is why I quickly rush back to my room.

I'm as quiet as possible when I open the door, hoping to avoid another conversation with Jasmine right now, and I seem to be successful as I take a seat back down on my bed.

I'm just about to lay down once again when something white seems to catch my eyes from where it's rested on the floor.

When I look closer, I notice that it's the sweatshirt that I basically stole from Bryce.

Something odd comes over me, and it draws me to pick the sweatshirt up. I hold it in my lap for a moment before deciding to pull it over my head.

I'm instantly comforted by the warmth, and it feels like the closest thing to being in his arms that I'm going to get to ever again.

I hate myself for ruining things between us. I hate that I've caused him and myself all that pain, and I hate that I was no doubt the cause of his panic attack.

I feel awful for judging him about his use of drugs before, and I wish I could've comforted him more when I was there.

I just think that I would've contradicted myself if I climbed into his lap and hugged him tight after all that I had just said.

I'm mad at myself for allowing my first sexual experience to be outside of a relationship. I always thought that I would have a boyfriend who loves me, but it wasn't with my boyfriend, as I don't have one, and Bryce certainly doesn't love me, so I've failed in that sense.

The worst part is that I wish I gave it all up to him when that was still on the table. He's the only guy I can ever picture myself being with.

But now it's all gone.

And just like that I shut my eyes, knowing that I'll spend my night dreaming of what could have been.