76 | noah

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I notice her silhouette approaching as I'm loading another box into the bed of my truck, though I choose to ignore her, as I do most things these days

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I notice her silhouette approaching as I'm loading another box into the bed of my truck, though I choose to ignore her, as I do most things these days. Since my mother's passing three days ago, I've learned things are easier this way. If you ignore everything, you don't have to feel anything. I'd almost forgotten how freeing it is to be numb.

The blonde stops once she reaches my side, yet I still don't turn to face her. I don't want to. I have nothing to say to her. I have nothing left to offer her except for darkness and baggage, and something tells me my baggage and misery isn't quite what she wants. All I want is to finish loading my things into my truck so I can get the hell out of this place. There's nothing left for me here.

"Noah," she finally whispers, vying for my attention. I hear the undertone of fear in her voice. I guess she understands what's happening. It must be frightening for her to think of what the future will look like. A future without me in it. What she doesn't understand is that she will be better off that way. All I can offer her now is destruction. That's all I've ever been good for, anyway. I ruin everything I touch. I find it ironic that this is the exact reason I'd been hesitant to start anything with this girl, because I knew I would break her. Yet I started something anyway. And here she is now, standing next to me, waiting to be broken.

"What?" I snap gruffly, shoving another box into the bed of my truck. I don't want to look at her. Frankly, I'm not sure if I can. She'll see the emptiness in my eyes, she'll wonder what happened to the boy she loved. Then I'd have to tell her that the boy she fell in love with isn't coming back anytime soon.

"Can we . .  talk?" she tries, sounding hopeful. This makes me want to laugh. I want to turn around and tell her that she might as well let go of all the hope she has now, before it destroys her. After all, it's hope that did this to me.

"About what?" I mumble, still refusing to face her. Part of me doesn't want to look into her eyes because I simply don't want to, but there's a small part of me that doesn't want the first girl I ever fell in love with to see me for who I am and be disappointed. I wonder if there will ever come a time where I don't want to please her, where she doesn't matter to me.

"I don't know," she murmurs, hurt. "Everything?"

I finally give in and turn to face her. I study Blake closely, gazing into her brown eyes at the last possible moment, part of me fearing what might happen when I do. I find sadness gleaming in her eyes. Sadness and pity and fear, all emotions evoked by me.

I'm surprised when this realization doesn't make me feel anything.

"You want to talk?" I ask with an air of annoyance, staring down at Blake. "Then talk."

Her expression falters, eyes widening at the intensity of my tone. She bites down on her lip as she looks up at me, eyes scanning my face as if she's searching for something. Emotion, maybe. Regret. The boy she fell in love with.

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