Addicted (Andy Biersack)

Chapter Nineteen

"I think I'm in love with you," he said.

"I think I'm in love with you, too," I admitted.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. A billion thoughts raced through my head. Each more painful than the last. These words had the power to change everything, but both of us knew that the only thing they did was make everything more difficult. The words alone are not enough to magically give us a happy ending. No, the reality is much more sinister. If a year apart is not enough to change how we feel, then a lifetime apart won't either. How can we make these feelings go away if we're not allowed to explore them and give them a chance? Because we can't give us a chance. We're both in committed relationships with people who are much more appropriate for us. I mean, my relationship isn't as set in stone as his is. I am only 20, after all. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that we are on the precipice of something deadly. Because right now, as his words echo in the silence, I feel like my heart is being slowly ripped out of my chest. I feel like my throat is collapsing in on itself. My eyes are stinging from all the unshed tears that are threatening to spill over any second now. This moment is the longest moment of my entire life. I want to ask him to run away with me and leave everything behind. I long to be in his embrace until the day I die. But it's all forbidden. It's something I can never have.

As I stared ahead and told myself not to cry, over and over again, I heard him undoing his seatbelt. I didn't dare look at him. He left the car and closed the door with a bang. I flinched at the aggressive gesture and started crying. My vision became blurred, and my body convulsed with one sob after another. I could't handle the pain anymore. I don't know how much time passed, but it felt like a hundred years before the tears stopped. I blew my nose in a tissue I found in my pocket. I wiped my tears with my hands, and I got out of the car.

When I couldn't see him, I started panicking. But before I could yell out his name, I heard him sobbing a few feet away from the car. I walked in the direction of the sound until I saw him sitting on the floor, hugging his knees, and shaking. I quietly joined him on the floor. I carefully put my arm around his shoulders, which made him cry louder. The pain I felt through the sounds I've never heard from him before made me want to start crying again. I tried my hardest to stay strong. He lay on the grass beneath us, putting his head in my lap. I caressed his head over and over again as I repeatedly said: "Shhh, it's going to be okay." I didn't believe those words. But I had to try sounding like I did. For his sake. Seeing him so broken frightened me. I never expected him to be the kind of person who could fall apart. I guess I sort of understand now. I understand why he keeps the tattoo with his first love's name. The pain that comes with it is not worth falling in love in the first place.

I didn't stop my hand movement until he slowly started getting up. I handed him a clean tissue. When he cleaned his face, he sighed deeply. I took his hand in mine and intertwined our fingers.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It's my fault," I muttered.

"No. It isn't. I should have left you alone after I started dating Hannah," he said firmly.

"There's nothing we can do about it now," I said, trying to sound comforting.

"No, there isn't," he said.

"I don't hold anything against you. I came onto you first, remember?"

"I do," he smiled, remembering our past.

"I don't regret it. I sometimes think I do, but I don't. I've never felt something so genuine," he added.

"Neither have I. And I don't think I ever will again. This feels like one of those once in a lifetime type of things," I sighed.