𝕤𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠 • 𝕝.𝕙

prologue

"What are you still doing here?"

My snappy remark only earned a slight movement from the man that was laying down next to me.  The white blanket moved as he turned his back to me, leaving me without an answer. My question was more of a rhetorical nature, anyway.

I took in a deep breath, rubbing my eyes absent-mindedly. The sun was peeking through the blinds, and I wondered for how long we'd both been asleep. It could have been three hours, it could have been ten. It didn't seem like my alarm clock had rung yet, but for all I knew, my phone could have gone out of battery, and I could have been late. I cared, but not enough to allow me to muster up the courage to get out of bed and get ready in a rush. I would definitely call in sick. I wasn't a stranger to the habit.

The air in the room felt humid and stifling. It was too hot, even if I was completely naked under my duvet. The man next to me, Oliver, was also very naked. I barely remembered what had happened last night... But it wasn't very difficult to guess. 

Oliver and I were in a relationship... Or used to be, at least. Him and me attempting to break-up never worked out for some reason. It would always end up with us having a conversation, him coming up with excuses, me leaving, him coming back to me completely off his face on coke, and me somehow agreeing to have sex with him. It was the third time in a month. 

It's not that I didn't want to end it, it really wasn't. I did. I was the one doing the breaking-up. He was the one who was pretending to understand.

"Five more minutes," he groaned. 

"It's been five minutes," I answered. "Go home."

"That's not what you were saying last night."

"So you're awake now," I sat on the side of my bed, looking for my clothes. "Oliver, this is the last time you pull this shit show on me."

He sat up, running a hand through his dark hair. "What shit show?"

"Stop coming over when you're high!" I snarled while putting my underwear back on. His gaze did not leave my body. "It's not fair!"

"Jesus, fine," he stood up, too. "Why are you being a bitch?"

I closed my eyes in frustration. "Just... Please go home. We're not together anymore. That should be enough for someone to not show up to their ex's house every week."

"I am finding you very hypocritical, Lex," he muttered as he grabbed his shirt from the hardwood floor. "You're the one engaging in sex every single time."

"Stop!" I covered my ears. "I know! We're both fucking it up every time! It's a mistake, and you know it. We shouldn't be doing that! Exes don't sleep with each other!"

"Then why do you do it?" he questioned. "The blame is not all on me. It's really not."

"Just get out of my house," I grew impatient. "Please. Get out. You can get drunk and high all you want, but do not show up here. It is so unfair to me."

"You're the one who broke up," he reminded me. "You broke up with me."

"Yeah, because the relationship was super-fucked up!"

"Okay," he said sarcastically. "Understood."

"Will you just go, now?"

"I will go."

He finished getting dressed, and I sat back on the edge of my bed, waiting to hear the front door shutting. As soon as it did, I breathed out. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe I had done it again, this was messed up, and I knew I had to take some of the blame, but what about him? It wasn't fair. He did not get to show up to my house and flirt with me, knowing that it would eventually lead to us sleeping together again, for him to not have to take any of the blame. It was over, and he knew it.

When I felt good enough to stand up, the first thing I did was open my windows. My whole bedroom smelled of him, and it physically made me want to be sick. The fresh morning air hit my face, and I instantly felt some kind of relief going through my body. I could hear the cars and people talking outside, and felt comforted that I wasn't so lonely, bathing in my own silence and brokenness right now.

I made my way to my living-room. It was messy, and Oliver's jacket was on the sofa. Something snapped inside of me, and suddenly, I couldn't bear anything that smelled like him, felt like him, reminded me of him, and I screamed out, clenching my fists. I grabbed the damn jacket, running to my front door, opening it, throwing the piece of clothing onto the pavement. I didn't care who could see me. When I turned around, my neighbour was staring at me, watering her flowers. 

"What?" I growled, frowning.

"Hope you're okay," she said, looking back at her plants.

I stormed back inside, and slammed the door shut behind me. God, when would this be over and done with? When would I be left alone, and recover from this stupid relationship that had wasted three years of my life? I didn't like to use the term wasted, because I wasn't sure I really believed it when I ever said it. But that's what it felt. I'd had enough.

More than enough.

Hope you guys liked it! So excited for this.