Match in the Gas Tank || Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz

66 High and Dry

wesgrady Bullseyes! Just not mine. @/the.phoenix.doyle is an impeccable ax thrower. Thanks for the fun night M'lady

The caption burned at Hawk's heart. It tore open his chest and left him exposed, but nothing hurt more than the slideshow of pictures set above it. The first was just an ax stuck to a target board in a perfect bullseye but once he slid to the next photo, he was devastated. It was Evie perched on a barstool at a little round table, eating mozzarella sticks. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she was wearing a solid red tee shirt that hugged her figure perfectly. Her eyes were trained on the camera, fixing it with a harsh glare. She'd never liked having her picture taken, but as she grew more confident she became more comfortable with it. Hawk only wished it were him taking her photo.

The last one was a selfie of Wes with Evie as she held up a scorecard. Her lips were pulled into a subtle smirk and a closer inspection of the card showed why; she'd won their little ax-throwing game.

So Mr. Perfect isn't perfect at everything, Hawk thought. But he couldn't revel in that idea for very long as his eyes followed Wes' arm as it rested over Evie's shoulders. He glared at it as if that would change the image. It didn't make him feel any better. Why am I doing this to myself?

She's never coming back to me, is she?

He closed the Instagram app and turned off his phone, choosing to stare at the ceiling. His heart ached. He still loved Evie, and he had held out a little hope that she would come back to him, but as time passed he began to doubt. Did she even love him anymore? And if not, when did she stop? How had things gotten this way?

I have to stop. I can't dwell on it, he told himself. But that was all he did. Otherwise, he was working to mend the friendships he'd made and forming new ones. When they weren't talking about karate, he was avoiding his friends' sympathetic looks. It took everything he had not to shout and beg them to shut up because he couldn't deal with the heartache. He didn't need the reminders because it was ever-present on his mind.

One might wonder how he had any time to think about Evie between building a sparring deck at Miyagi-Do and training under Mr. LaRusso with his Eagle Fang peers, but if they were asking that question, no one made it known. At least for that, he was thankful.

Tears streaked down the sides of his face and he harshly wiped them away, only for more to take their place. He was sick and tired of crying, but what else was there to do?

He wished there was someone he could talk to. The only problem was that no one really understood the situation or what he was going through. His mother didn't fully understand why they'd broken up to begin with and Demetri was convinced that Evie would have a change of heart. Miguel had tried but that went sour fast and the last people he could talk to about the whole thing were Sam and Tory. He felt so alone...

But maybe there was one person.

He grabbed his phone and looked at the time, hoping that it wasn't too late at night to call.

The phone rang in his ear twice before someone answered. A sweet yet sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Moon, sorry if I'm not bothering you," he winced, realizing it was too late.

A yawn. "No problem. What's up?"

"I feel like shit and I didn't know who else I could talk to."

There was some rustling on the other end of the line. "About Evie, right?"

"Yeah..."

"That's okay. I'm always here. What's bothering you tonight?"

"Everything." He groaned, becoming embarrassed by the real answer: Wes Grady. "I can't get her out of my head no matter how hard I try. I thought I was getting over the break up but then this new guy rolls into town and he's making it all worse. The last thing I want to be is the obsessive ex but it feels like that's all I've been doing."