Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom or the song "Wrecking Ball".

It had been nine months. Nine long, painful months of trying to pull myself together and putting on a brave face. Nine months of watching from afar and wishing things were different. If nothing went wrong, then we'd still be—No, we'd probably be not. It was bound to happen anyway, sooner or later.

After all, they say that everything had its own limitation, its own end. And ours just came a little sooner, a little too early, too unexpected. I should've known. I'd felt it anyway. Felt the swift turn of things. Felt that floating, inexplicable vapor of premonition. I was just too wrapped up, too consumed in my own little bubble of happiness that I tried to deny it, to dismiss things… instances. It was just too unbearable to imagine at the time.

It was excruciating that after all that we'd been through, those specks of non-sense conversations we had, those inside jokes we shared, the jaw-dropping ideas we formed, the battles we fought together, those late night and very early in the morning texts we exchanged—all because we couldn't get enough of each other, couldn't afford to sleep yet because we just find each other so pretty darn interesting, those rare honest-to-the-core moments we treasured, the warmth and happiness that we feel by just seeing one another, all of it, and we still ended up in hatred.

It hurt. And God, it still did.

I attempted to be okay but I failed. I tried to accept things, slowly and I did. At least I thought so at the time. Again, I failed.

I reminisced, read all our text and chat conversations that I intentionally wrote and saved on my diary, savored every tiny cloud of memories I have, enjoyed every sweet word that came from him, every little act of affection he showed, all over again. And what did I get for doing that? Temporary happiness which eventually gave way to a floodgate of hurt, sadness, betrayal and even regret.

I figured out that remembering was a stupid thing to do. So I resorted to forgetting. I deleted all his texts, his calls. I cleared my inbox of his name. Because the mere sight of his name ripped my heart into pieces. I collected all my past(and present) diaries and locked them away in the bottom of my closet, buried them under the tons of past test papers, notes and pieces of crap I'd managed to gather courtesy of years of school activities.

Then I deactivated my facebook account, partly because I couldn't make myself un-friend him and further make things awkward. Honestly, I did every possible way to avoid him.

However, I realized I couldn't actually avoid him, especially in school. So I decided to come to school late so that I'd have the excuse of not having time to talk. I tended to sit as far away as possible and make myself busy.

I tried my freaking best not to talk to him.

I fought the urge, the irresistible urge to look at him.

And whenever our eyes would accidentally meet, God, I fall over again.

And after the wave of initial shock had passed, God, I hurt even more.

What I was struggling with, this emotional whirlpool I was experiencing, it reminded me of that line from the famous, controversial song.

I never hit so hard in love…

All you ever did was wreck me.

Yeah, all he ever really did was wreck me, I guess.

Damn it, I was crying again. I was so tired. Of crying. Of myself. I wished the pain would just disappear.

I wished I could just disappear.

I really hated it when this sobbing fit erupts. I just couldn't control it. It took hours for me to physically recover from it.

I stared into the nothingness around me and felt something rhythmically scrubbing my leg. I realized it was my phone vibrating. I fished my phone out from my jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. I sighed and tapped to answer it.

"What?" I snapped, not bothering to say hello.

He hesitated so long I thought he was going to hang up without saying anything.

"Uhm, someone asked me if you're single… and I said yes. He…er he wants to know…" He hesitated again.

I swallowed a few gallons of air, brushing my tears away. It had been too long. I should be doing something in my life instead of living in the past.

"Yes, Tuck." I took another deep, calming breath.

He could go to hell. He could die in a battle with Box ghost or he could just disappear.

"Tell the guy I'm single." I paused. I realized my hands were shaking.

Danny might as well get hit by a freaking disasteroid for all I care.

I gripped the phone harder, my toes curling.

"I'm single and moving on."

There you go, another angsty oneshot about a brokenhearted Sam. Sorry for adding another entry to the cliché library. I'm just feeling all emo, listening to break up songs so I suddenly come up with this.

I really intended to continue writing the next chapter of Gazing Game but I know I wouldn't be able to write accordingly if I'm feeling confused and basically, just sad.

So, now that I've released that crappy feeling, I'll get back to updating.