𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 they didn't love each other the right way, didn't mean they didn't love each other with everything they had. [dream x oc]
> work in progress
>is a continuation of UNDER THE OAK, just re-written w/ a few twisty twists ;...
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𝐀 𝐑 𝐀 𝐁 𝐄 𝐋 𝐋 𝐀
We never really talked about what happened that night. I never mentioned a word about that subtle and almost break-up. What I've grown to realize is that it will happen, and I think I may as well let it. There have been many things wrong with Clays mental health when he started growing on YouTube, and I really thought I could control it somehow.
----
His lips were moving, eyes were rapidly blinking. He's touching me. He's, he's talking, that's what it is. But I can't hear it, I couldn't bother.
"Bella?" He shook me a couple of times, then I realized I was on the floor. He carefully lifted me up so I could stand on my feet. But my legs betray me as I collapse into Nick's arms, and he holds me tightly in the corner of the darkroom.
"I hate him!" I screamed into his arms. My tears are mixed with pain, anger. I hate him for everything he's done for me. I hate him for making me feel this way. I hate him for having control over me. These tears are mixed with pain. There's anger.
As Nick held me there, and I sob uncontrollably in his arms, I don't feel pain, and I'm more frustrated than upset. My heart stings and I grabbed his hand and placed it on the side of my neck, unaware if he can even notice how faint my pulse is. It's not in my head. I'm dying. I can't breathe. I think I'm dying.
I can feel something. I feel nothing. All at once. Nick responded suddenly, carefully grabbing the back of my neck and pressing my muffled tears to his chest. I can no longer imagine the heartache. As I don't even feel one. The walls of my heart surged from an excess of blood, it felt like deep rippling blood and my body felt light. I felt his love, which was no longer a warm feeling. It felt sharp and it stung in the middle of my chest, Nick's voice echoing throughout my ears. But I can't even make up what he's saying anymore.
"I wish I never met him!" I screamed, coming out as loud muffled sounds. No matter how many times I prepared myself for this to happen, I couldn't have possibly imagined it would be this bad, this painful, this draining. Just when the ringing begins to stop I am reminded of the look he gave me before he left, and the pain intensifies. He had done it. He had broken me, the same way he promised he would love me. Clay had finally broken me.
---
I was the first one up in the morning, the sunlight betraying my eyes. The first thing I usually do would be unplugging my phone from its charger and scroll through social media, but there happens to be a giant knot in my head. Last night. Clays breakdown. I suddenly worry if this will be a continuation of many future panic attacks. Many future situations where he decides to close me out and push me away. It didn't work last night on the patio, but what if I finally push away the final time? What if I just can't take it anymore? It's selfish, but you cannot help someone who does not seem to want your help.
