This is just a short piece that came to my mind. There is only one word I have to describe this one-shot: angst! It's nothing dealing with death or drugs, don't worry. Still, I'll give the readers a few moments to mentally prepare for some angst

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Okay, here we go!!

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I stood outside of Mikalya's front door. My hair was slightly disheveled and my sweat pants and tee shirt were far from being decent. I didn't care. Only twenty minutes earlier I had been in my own house sulking. Mikayla and I have been broken up for over three weeks now but it was almost impossible not to mourn the death of our once unbreakable love.

It wasn't like I was doing anything in my room except daydream. She called me. She hardly ever called me anymore. I had to answer. I had to listen to her sounding depressed. I had to tell her I would be over soon. I had to whisper 'I love you' when I heard her hang up. So there I was. On HER doorstep. The exact place where we had broken up. It felt like forever ago.

Mikayla's footsteps echoed through the house. I straightened up a little when she opened the door a crack. The light from her house leaked out onto the porch like a warm welcome. It was dark outside, maybe around 8:30 pm. Mikayla looked, well, terrible. Her eyes looked red. She didn't wear any make up, which was something I rarely ever saw. We didn't speak. She only opened the door enough for me to slip through.

I looked around but did not see her family anywhere in sight.

"They are all out at a business party. I-I wasn't feeling up to it," she said, reading my mind.

Mikayla turned on her heels. I only nodded and followed her into the living room. So much for a "Thanks for coming over so late". Looking around the couch I noticed a pack of cigarettes and a tiny glass bottle that didn't look like water or juice. I quickly looked at Mikayla who was watching me.

"What's going on Mik?"

She crossed her arms protectively, "I screwed up. I really did."

"How so?"

"I knew I would mess everything up!" She was talking to herself. My knees rattled as I began to get nervous. Looking at her, I felt my feelings shower me. I hadn't seen her since we broke up, but we IM'd each other about three times since then. Now that we were in the same room it was as if gravity was literally pulling me toward her.

"Mikayla, Mikayla. Sit down. Breathe. Just tell me what's wrong."

"I can't afford my therapist anymore," she half yelled.

My eyes widened, "You've been seeing a therapist?"

"Mitchie! Stay focused here," she threatened.

I gulped and obeyed. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked away from her, thinking. I had to remember what I was there for. We weren't dating. Not dating. Not dating. Not. Dating. I couldn't act like her girlfriend. I had to act like a great friend. She needed me.

"Um. What about getting help from a counselor at school or something?"

"I tried that," She said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, um, okay." I tried again to rack my brain for anything I knew about therapists.

"Don't even bother. I'm just going to be miserable and then die."

"Come on, don't be dramatic." I reasoned.

"Fuck you." She said it quickly and automatically as if to say "God bless you" to a sneeze but I sensed the underlining menace in the way she said it.

"Wow." It was the only think I could think of to say. My body twitched a little at her verbal assault as if her simple "fuck you" was actually a shot from a BB Gun. She was making me uncomfortable…or was it me who was to blame for the conversation becoming sour?

Mikayla turned to me suddenly, her eyes almost looked black with anger, "Look, if you're not going to help me then you can leave."

My mouth hung open. Where was all this coming from? Was she really in such a bad state that not being able to see her therapist, which I never knew she had, meant the end of the world? I felt guilt creep in at the thought that Mikalya had been suffering mentally all this time while I had been acting like a big baby just because we were no longer together.

"No, no. I'm here to help."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Mikayla finally plopped down beside me.

"We can find you someone else and cheaper." My right hand grazed her back in attempt to comfort her.

"I don't want anyone else, Mitchie. Don't you understand that?"

As if a light switch had been turned on, I felt my own anger rising. How dare she even treat me like that? I was there to be of assistance, but if she didn't want my help then SCREW HER.

"Why don't you just stop being so spoiled and dramatic for once! You don't need a therapist. You need to stop thinking you're the center of the Universe!"

"Fuck you, Mitchie. Get out."

"No Mikayla, fuck you." For some reason, the words didn't seem to hurt her as much as they hurt me when she said it.

"Get. Out." Her voice was loud now. She sounded serious and I didn't want her to alarm any neighbors.

I made my way to the door but stopped just before opening it. I turned around half way to see Mikayla cradling herself. Never had I wanted to hold and kiss her more than I did then. Yet everything about her body language dared me to even think about touching her. I loved her. I had to try again.

"Mikayla…"

"Mitchie, I'm not kidding."

Damn! How could she be so cold? How was she able to stay so cool when I knew she could feel my pain. She must have been able to feel my pain because I felt it radiating off of me in giant, sorrowful waves. I opened the door and walked out of the house, but didn't close it all the way. Instead I called to her again. I knew I must have looked pathetic to people passing by, but at that point I was beyond caring.

"Mikayla, honey, please. You sound so hurt. Let me come back in."

Silence.

"Please. Please, Mik. I won't say anything. I won't give any more advice at all. I promise to just sit with you and listen or do whatever you want me to." My voice crackled. I don't know if I have ever felt more desperate about getting inside a house. In my head I imagined all the things Mikayla would do in the face of depression. She was capable of almost anything. In the deepest, darkest place in my mind I feared this might be my last time talking to Mikayla. I wouldn't want our last conversation to end like this.

"Leave me alone Mitchie. Stop trying to save me, okay? I'm sorry but you just can't!" She said it with enough confidence to signal that we were done talking. Her statement confused me. Was she really sorry that I could not "save her" or was that sarcasm? Was she mocking me for trying to help and failing? Was she being rude or was I just being too sensitive? While my mind tried to analyze the meaning of her words, my body simply responded. It responded in one clear feeling that covered me from head to toe: pain.

I paused a moment to let the shock hit me and then I said in a voice that was so sad I wasn't sure it was mine, "…Okay." I sounded utterly defeated. I wanted to cry at the sound of my own agony.

My heart clenched. My lungs were tight and I felt like I had swallowed an orange whole. Though I wasn't crying, my eyes stung and tried to find anything to focus on but Mikayla's back. The strangest sensation of them all was my fingers. My fingers ached. They actually ached! I felt little waves pass up and down my fingers like the blood rushing to the face of an embarrassed child. For a second I almost wanted to laugh at the thought of having embarrassed fingers…but I didn't.

The night air was cold. Too cold. It was as if nature was mocking me. As if I didn't feel cold with discomfort enough on the inside, now I was freezing on the outside. Did she even care that I had to walk three blocks back to my house in this freezing weather? Apparently not because even when I made my way up the street, she didn't come out looking for me, asking me to come back, asking me to forgive her and that she was having a bad day.

Nothing. I hoped she would cool off after a week or so but she never got back to me. No call on my cell. No apology text. Not a single IM. It all spoke for itself. We were definitely

over and I was a fool.