one of the boys » david dobrik au

forty one

I cracked my bedroom door just enough to peek my head out and look for any signs of the one person I didn't want to talk to. Zane, who was sprawled out on the couch, answered my unasked question, "He's not even in the house right now."

"Oh," I softly smiled at him, too sad to give him any more emotion. "Okay. Thank you."

I didn't ask where he was because I didn't need to. I already knew who he fled to last night when I heard the front door slam just after I kicked him out.

"Are you okay, Millie?" he sat up to look at me, the pity in his eyes too much to deal with. "You look sad."

"He broke up with me," I answered. "Well, I broke up with him. We broke up with each other. Or something. I don't even know what happened. I was a little too drunk."

"Are you sure you broke up?" Zane raised his eyebrows and patted the empty spot next to him. "It wasn't just a fight that got a little out of hand?"

"He said he was done with me," I recalled, tears pricking my eyes. "And now he's probably having morning sex with Natalie, so... I think it was a break up."

"Don't think like that. You're both just overly mad. He'll be back tonight," he tried to comfort me, but I knew it wasn't true. When I stayed silent, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for a weird, sitting down, side hug. "I'm sorry. You know I love you."

"Do we have any ice cream?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"I'll go get you some later, babe."

"My heart hurts. I don't even know what to do with myself. And it was my fault. I started the fight."

"Starting a fight for a legitimate reason does not mean you caused a breakup, and if the legitimate reason caused the breakup, maybe it needed to happen," he said oh so wisely, and my heart ached even more. Was it a legitimate reason? I had to ask myself.

Was it legitimate, or was I just so insecure and insane like David said that I had to pick a fight that ultimately ruined us?

"Stop thinking," he lightly nudged me.

"I don't know what else to do. We did everything together. There's nothing I could do that wouldn't remind me of him."

"So we find a new thing to do," he shrugged. "Something you haven't ever done before. Any ideas?"

"I've never... I don't even know," I sadly sighed. "I've never... smashed something with a sledgehammer."

"Wasn't exactly my first thought—I was thinking more along the lines of rollerskating or painting or something—but... let's do it!"

"Really?" I had to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

"Yeah. Come on. We'll have to buy the sledgehammer. And something to smash. You've got fifteen minutes to get ready."

Our first stop was Walmart, where we bought a twenty dollar sledgehammer. We then went to Goodwill and bought one of those old timey TVs with the big box on the back. It was only 7 dollars and we were unsure if it would actually work if we tried to plug it in, but that wasn't the point of the TV anyway.

Zane drove us to one of my favorite parking lots outside an abandoned mall. I was pretty sure the parking lot was only ever used for the high school students in the area to smoke weed and have sex, but at only eleven o'clock on a Thursday morning, it was nothing but empty.

He unloaded the TV for the trunk, handed me the sledgehammer, stickers still on it, and gestured towards the big box on the ground. "Well... go for it."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I swung the sledgehammer over my shoulder and struck down on the top, watching as the plastic broke immediately, pieces popping off the top left and right. My next swing hit the screen, and the glass shattered across the pavement, shards reaching far further than I ever imagined.

So I smashed it. I smashed it and I smashed it and I smashed it until all I could think about was smashing it, nothing else but smashing it to pieces, until the ancient device itself was unrecognizable, just a scrap pile in a trashy parking lot.

I hadn't even realized I was crying until I finally let the tool drop to the ground, and all of the sudden, it felt like my bones were breaking. It felt like the sky was coming down and nothing was ever going to feel right again. And so I started screaming. What I was screaming, I couldn't tell you. All I knew was that in that moment, it was the only thing that felt right.

When I somewhat came back to my senses, sitting on the ground sobbing like a mental patient, Zane was sitting on the trunk of his car, staring at me with the saddest look on his face. He said, "I wish I could help you."

"It fucking hurts," was all I could answer. Over and over again, "It fucking hurts."

So there we sat, two friends—one miserable and one too empathetic to not be miserable—crying and staring. There was a point that I couldn't cry anymore, and at that moment, I asked, "Wanna get food or something?"

I was glad Zane never said anything about my anger issues or my crying issues or my complete instability when it came to my emotions. He simply smiled, a sad smile that showed he knew this wasn't the end, and then he nodded. "Anything in mind?"

"Something messy," I told him as I stood, wiping the dirt off of my leggings.

He drove us to a Mexican restaurant, where I drank three margaritas and got queso all over my sweatshirt. It felt right, being messy. It felt like something I could control.

"You feel any better?" he asked when he pulled back into our driveway, David's car still missing from its usual spot.

I drunkenly smiled at him and shook my head, "Never felt worse. Let's get fucking drunk."

"I think you're already there."

I didn't like his worried laugh. It wasn't uncommon for me to get unreasonably drunk, but it was never to cope. That must've had him on edge, the fact that I had already had one breakdown that day and I was clearly gearing up for another one.

Luckily, I had people that hadn't seen me screaming at God earlier that were absolutely more than willing to turn back a bottle of Tito's with me.

Usually, I don't like letting Corinna and Todd in my house just for the drama of it all, but it turned out that Natalie wasn't as loyal of a friend as I thought she was, and Corinna was a lot more fun than I imagined she'd be.

She was quick to help me drink away my sorrows, and for that, she was my new best friend.

Better than Zane and Jeff at least. I could hear them, every now and then, asking each other if they should stop me or if they should call David.

I'd always give them the harshest look I could muster in my too-drunk-to-care-about-anything state, and they always shut up, only to bring it up again one shot later.

My night ended draped over the toilet, the ends of my hair scraping the water in the bowl and my face smashed harshly on the seat.

Smashed. Just like the TV. Funny how things come full circle like that.

I love this chapter yall better love it too

Xoxo abby