Diana Ramirez, a talented but softly-spoken artist, has shared nearly two years of her life with her boyfriend, Billy Hargrove. Their relationship, once a source of joy, has gradually cast shadows over her vibrant spirit.
In the midst of this dimmin...
A/N:Any Spanish sentences will be translated in the comments on that specific line 🖤
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I think I worry a lot I need to take it easy I got this anxious feeling But it goes away for a minute When I'm with you breathing
-The Neighbourhood
✶✧❃✧ ✶
Friday - October 16th, 1986
DIANA
As the melodic tunes of Saxon filled the air, I found myself lost in the rhythm, sprawled on my bed with my ankles casually crossed. With each stroke of my pencil, I brought to life a pair of eyes on the page. But not just any eyes – they belonged to none other than Eddie Munson.
A pang of guilt washed over me as I realized how much time I'd spent fixating on his gaze, yet I couldn't shake the image from my mind. Since our last hangout, thoughts of Eddie seemed to infiltrate my every spare moment, occupying my thoughts even when they should have been elsewhere.
Any moment of silence I had to myself? Eddie Munson.
While taking a quick shower earlier in the day, where did I let my mind wander off to?
Eddie Munson.
His hands. Those rings.
Fuck. I should draw those too.
"What the fuck am I doing?" I whispered to myself, dropping my pencil and slamming my sketchbook closed. I quickly stood up and rushed over to my vanity, placing my hands flat against the surface of it as I stared at myself in the mirror.
"No.You cannot like him. As a matter of fact, you can't like anyone ever again." I sternly spoke to myself, pressing the tip of my index finger against the glass, "It's okay to look. But that's it! No feelings, no touching, no flirting. No, no, no!" I scolded myself, feeling pressure build up in my head. Feeling tears start to well in my eyes, I tried as hard as I could to push down the memories of what Billy did to me.
"Fuck," I cursed to myself, letting a few tears fall before I wiped them away and looked back at my reflection. My eyes were slightly red with tiredness, and the bags underneath them weren't helping. Anyone could tell I wasn't doing well, and I hadn't been for a while.
As our relationship neared its end, I found myself stressing a lot about where we were headed. We were arguing constantly, and I was spending most nights alone. I'd end up crying myself to sleep, just wishing he'd come back and things would be like they used to.
