Girls, Breaking Hearts

It was almost 5 AM when John got to his apartment, completely plastered. He decided to get drunk after making a rash decision of driving over to his girlfriend’s house, with a bunch of his beloved records, telling her parents about how he’d been meaning to give it to her since she appreciated his music taste. When they told her she wasn’t there, that she was with her friends, and advised him to just leave his gift or come over some other time, the uneasy feeling completely clouded over him. He left the records, trying his best to act normal, but once he was in his car, he couldn’t control it any longer and he started to entertain the other idea that had entered his mind earlier that night; the possibility of Brooke cheating on him.

He collapsed onto his bed, checking his phone once again to see if she had called or texted, but there was literally nothing. He felt the bile rise up in his throat as he thought of what she was doing, who she was with- it was so easy for him to believe she was sick of him, simply because what girl could take it all, and not break? Amidst his constant touring, the secrecy of their relationship, his flip-outs over their situation, and her age; where was the assurance that she wouldn’t get tired of it, of what he could give her? His chest started heaving dramatically, as he began cursing himself for even getting into this mess. He could almost hear what Brooke was going to tell him, that she was happier with a guy her age, that she did all she could to make them work but it just wasn’t enough. He could almost feel that this was her taking the easy way out, as if she thought cheating was the only thing that could make John let her go.

It was almost comical, how just weeks ago, he was telling her he was done with the relationship, now he would do anything to salvage it. He thought of their getaway in Mesa, how he said all those things to her- did it freak her out? Did she think, then, that it was time to end it? She was a teenager, after all, it was easy to change her mind. So did that change her mind? Did she not want him anymore?

He grabbed his phone once more, and upon seeing zero calls and text messages, he mustered up the courage to call one of his previous girls, just to keep his mind off things. He clicked on one contact, readying his thumb to press and make the call, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was as if a universal force was stopping him from doing it, and he couldn’t click on the number.

Frustrated, he threw his phone on the carpeted floor, bringing his hands up and rubbing his face roughly. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, hitting his face with his palm with each word he let out. “Shit shit shit shit.”

~

A few hours later, John woke up with a massive hangover. He glanced at his wall clock, and upon seeing the time, he rushed to sit up, immediately regretting the action when his headache got worse, and then everything that happened from the night before came rushing back.

His unsuccessful attempts to contact Brooke.

Calling Shane to ask for his whereabouts.

Jared stopping him from driving over to the Sheltons with a stupid alibi.

Ignoring his best friend and doing it anyway.

The possibility of his girlfriend going off with another guy.

Almost calling a former fuck buddy just to get his mind off things.

But what he didn’t remember, was whether or not he’d turned on the TV and left it on. He gathered all his energy to get up from his bed and force himself to leave his room.

He exited his room, stopping dead on his tracks when he saw his girlfriend laying on his couch, with a beer in hand. A bowl of chips was situated on the table, and she was watching some show he couldn’t care less about. He certainly didn’t recall having her there last night, or this morning even.

She met his gaze, smiling up at him as she raised the can in her hand. “Hey,” she greeted, her voice sounding strained and soft at the same time, “Hair of the dog?”

There was nothing more John wanted to do than say yes, and run to her and just hold her in his arms to tell her how much he was glad she was here with him; but he didn’t want to succumb to the desire his smitten side carried. His rational side wanted answers, and he was going to get them.

He shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest, not making any effort to change his almost gloomy expression. “Where were you last night?” he asked glumly, his voice dark and low, nowhere near the sweet one he almost always had around her.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you.” She smiled, standing up and walking over to him with drink still in hand. “I was with the girls. Amber invited me over, we spent the night at Kelly’s getting hammered, just me and the girls, Mckenna, Alex-”

He was irritated by how casual she sounded, not even taking in consideration what he was feeling- which he dared showed, as he suddenly slapped the can away from her hand, making her flinch and stop talking. The can dropped to the floor, spilling beer all over his floor but he didn’t care at all. “I texted and called you!” he yelled, glaring at her as she stood there with her mouth gaped open and eyes wide, obviously taken aback by his actions. She had never seen him like this before, and she didn’t know what to feel about it. “You couldn’t bother answering?!”

“I didn’t have my phone with me,” she answered, her voice entirely confused, “we were- we were doing kegstands, and-”

“Oh! You were doing kegstands?” he exclaimed, his voice sarcastically enthusiastic as he rolled his eyes, moving away from her. “That’s very understandable, actually- you were doing kegstands- how could I have not thought of that!”

The sarcasm didn’t sit well with Brooke. She scoffed, an annoyed look crossing her face as she followed him with her gaze. “What’s with you?”

“What’s with me is I was worried as fuck last night over you, because you told me you were just going to stay in but you didn’t, and you didn’t even bother to fucking text me, you don’t even fucking care,” John retorted, not missing a beat.

“Really?” Brooke rolled her eyes, scoffing once more as the anger overcame her. “Wow, sorry, I couldn’t tell how worried you were over your five texts and six calls, and I certainly can’t smell it over your liquor-smelling self. We both drank last night; it’s a win-win, and this discussion is pointless,” she retaliated, only making him more furious.

“It’s not a fucking win-win situation!” he yelled, his frustration growing as he nearly knocked over his stereo, “I was worried about you, I had to call Shane and ask for his whereabouts to know if he was with you, and when he was at home I figured- I figured something bad happened, and-”

“And you decided to drown yourself in alcohol, great! Would you like a medal for that?” she cut in, making him pull at his hair.

“I fucking drove to your house,” he snapped, his voice lower but angrier than before. She blinked at him, processing what he’d just said.

“John, what- my parents-”

“I lied, okay, I told them I was giving you a bunch of records- then they said- they said you weren’t home, and that you were- you were with your friends, and I-”

He didn’t say anything, and neither did she; she waited for him to continue, but he just stared at her with a defeated look on his face, and she understood it then. She felt the anger leaving her body, being replaced with sadness as she opened her mouth to say something.

“Your mind went to cheating,” she guessed simply, and when his face didn’t change, she knew was right.

He sighed, wondering how he could explain it all to her- how it felt when she didn’t answer, everything. “I was...”

But he couldn’t say anything. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, leaving it like that. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the strength to make an argument.

She let out a sarcastic chuckle, fluttering her eyelids as the tears threatened to spill. She choked out a sob, masking it with another chuckle as she looked down her feet, not understanding this- whatever was happening, what John was saying, what was going on at the moment. She only felt sad, at the idea of John believing she would do such.

“Looks like you wouldn’t put it past me,” she said, her voice low and just sad.

John sighed once more, running his hands through his hair as he thought of what to say. “That’s not it,” he said, his voice entirely serious. His whole demeanour softened upon spotting the tears in her eyes. “I was-”

“Then what is it?!” she snapped, glaring at him, unable to see clearly as her vision clouded with tears. “I don’t answer for a few hours and suddenly I’m cheating? Did I give you any reason at all to come to that conclusion about me?”

“Brooke-”

He walked over, trying to touch her but she just pushed him away, keeping her gaze on her feet. She knew that if she looked into his eyes, she would just melt into his arms and let him sweet-talk her into forgetting the whole fight, but she didn’t want to. “No, I don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaky as she distanced herself from him. “When you’re out, on tour, I don’t, I don’t doubt you, John,” she said. “Even when you forget to text back, and just call me the next morning, I don’t, and-”

“Baby-”

“Stop.” She almost laughed sarcastically at the endearment, usually she loved it when John said that but now, she simply wanted to get away from him. “The point is I trust you but you clearly don’t. Why?”

She waited for him to explain, but he couldn’t. The silence stayed between them, and he kept sighing and muttering curses to himself, wondering how he could explain it to her. “I don’t know,” he said in a defeated tone, too ashamed to meet her eyes. “I was drunk, I guess.”

Both of them knew it was a stupid explanation, but John didn’t know what else to say. Yes, he did trust her- but then again, girls were confusing, he was insecure, and he thought that maybe she didn’t want him anymore, and cheating was the easy way out, as simple as that. How could he say that without offending her?

She nodded, accepting defeat as she moved from where she was standing and he didn’t stop her, at least not right away. Not until he heard the words leave her mouth.

“I can’t do this,” she breathed out, grabbing her bag from his couch and walking to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Brooke, no-”

He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her towards him so he could talk her out of it but she just resisted. “No, John-”

“Let’s talk about it-”

“There’s nothing to talk about-”

“Brooklyn, please, I-”

“Let go-”

He was hysterical at that point, and his frustration caused him to grab her by the waist and try to hug her, but she squirmed out of his touch, and burst into tears.

“John you’re hurting me!”

At that, he let go of her. Confusion was written all over his face as he stared at her slouched form, hands in her face as she sobbed. He reached out his arm to touch her shoulder, but she immediately shrugged him off and wiped her tears away.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cheat on you,” she said in a broken voice as she grabbed the door knob and looked him dead in the eyes. Her face was drenched in tears and knowing he was responsible for that killed him. “Because if you don’t trust me, we might as well break up.”

She slammed the door behind her, leaving him there standing dumbly with a blank look on his face. He slowly processed her words, and it echoed repeatedly in his head, causing more damage per reverberation. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he pushed his back onto his wall, leaning on it for support. He felt complete weakness overcome him as he thought of how bad he fucked up this time. Could he still rectify it, or was it already irreparable?