illicit | five hargreeves - EDITING

eleven

chapter eleven: the reeling

Anthony Baudelaire stood outside of the Commission, leaning against a bricked wall. He shivered slightly due to the late December weather, and his suit wasn't doing much to keep his body warm. He watched as the first fall of snow glistened as it fell onto the concrete floor ahead of him. He brought a lit cigarette to his lips, closing his eyes momentarily as he inhaled the nicotine, feeling the heat quickly rushing to his lungs, it was a satisfying feeling for him.

Somehow, his addiction had gotten much worse over the past couple of months. Probably a mix between his constant anxiety and the boredom he felt everyday, because he really had nothing better to do with his time. Anthony didn't mind though, because as terrible it was for his lungs, he knew he would never care enough to try and give them up. He had tried, but he had just failed miserably.

He didn't really seem to care about anything anymore. Anthony had had a hard few months, four and a half to be completely exact, and he couldn't deny how utterly and pathetically lonely he had become in a mere matter of months.

He hated to admit how much he fucking missed the asshole that was Five Hargreeves. It had been four months since they had talked, and as pathetic as it was, there was nothing Anthony longed for more than to see him again.

Anthony had received the numerous texts and calls from Five, and at one he point, he even considered responding. He really had pondered over it for a while, but eventually he just blocked his number, and tried to forget everything.

But Forgetting wasn't easy. Because it never is. Because he remembered everything, and he hadn't forgotten, and probably never would forget. It was hard to pretend that the person he used to love, and the person he was sometimes convinced that he still did love, didn't exist.

Anthony had a hard time just thinking about and accepting what Five had done. He felt used, and that was really the only way to put it. He also felt stupid; stupid that he had somehow believed that someone loved him, especially someone like Number Five.

He believed that Five felt something that Anthony was now convinced he was incapable of feeling.

So it had been a lonely couple of months, and Anthony had considered just giving in and calling Number Five; beg him to just come over and hold him for a while, maybe even run his hands through his hair the way he used to.

He longed more than anything to just be in Five's arms one more time, to allow him to kiss his forehead one more time, to even kiss him one more time. Anthony didn't just miss the physical aspect of being with someone, but he missed the connection he had with him.

Anthony had a long time to reflect on his broken relationship as the time went by, and decided that he was still angry at Number Five, fucking furious, but he also felt that maybe if he called him, they would be able to fix it, and let everything go back to the way it was supposed to be.

But that was just blind hope, and going back to him that easily would never help. So he never called, he couldn't give in that easily, not after what Five had done to him. Cheating alone was bad enough, but with her of all people? That shit was just fucking cruel.

Anthony spend many days and many sleepless nights wondering if just one thing had been different, would everything be different for the two of them. As much as he longed for Five, he was still fucking pissed, and his pettiness was enough to make him stay far away from the man.

He also wondered often whether or not Number Five ever thought about him, and Anthony bet that he did. Because how could he not? What they had was definitely something, to say the least, and Anthony questioned how it was possible for Five to act as if nothing had ever happened.