You gently set your phone on the desk, deliberately making your movements as smooth and slow as possible. You try to focus on that simple action to distract yourself from the stabbing pains in your chest. They shoot down your arms, making your fingertips tingle. Not in a good way. No, this hurts like hell and you know it's going to happen again and again because you can't help yourself and leave.
The great Danny Lawrence is having an emotional breakdown.
You smile bitterly amidst your tears. Mel would have a field day if she saw you now. She'd probably be able to kick you out of Summer Society and crown herself president. Normally that thought would've caused you to scoff and shake your head at its impossibility. But nowadays, it seems like anything's possible.
LaF's told you countless times how a clean break heals faster than a messy splintered fracture. But you can't do it. You're not strong enough and you know you really don't want to. That you didn't end this. That you can't help hoping if you stick around long enough she'll come around and take you back. But you know that's not how the game works.
You hear so many accounts of pain and how to stop it. Pain caused by physical wounds. Those are easy to fix. You take some morphine or Advil and watch all feeling melt away. You wait a week, or if you're unlucky, a few months, for your body to heal. And you're fine. Completely cured. But this, well, it's different. Because you know exactly what would heal you but you can't have it. You can never have it.
Carmilla texted Laura.
And she didn't text you.
You know it sounds petty and stupid and a million other things. But it's just so unfair. You're the one who dealt with all the crazy shit Carmilla went through with her mother. You're the one who held her when she tried to drive that stake through her own heart. You've known her for two whole fucking years before that freshman showed up and completely wiped you out of existence. It just hurts you to your core that someone you think you loved and who you thought loved you just cast you away.
You know you're not perfect. You are weird. You have random quirks that you don't even tell your Society Sisters because you know they will judge you. You have huge insecurities about friendships. You don't tell people about those insecurities because you're afraid no one would want you. But you can be yourself in Room 307. You've been so real with Carmilla. It seemed like she actually liked you as a person, even though that's rare for her. Laura came along and you knew she liked you too. Those few days were awesome. You thought you actually had two really good friends. But then they met each other and you're out of the picture.
You know it's not their fault. People are friends and love each other because they can't help it. They just fit. But it sucks to know that for some reason you were just not good enough for Carmilla. She dumped you. After everything you've done for her. She didn't want you. You feel like crying every time you think about that because if this happened, who knows how other people feel about you? You don't have anyone to turn to, and it feels weird talking about this with Laura.
Hey Laura, I need you to ditch Carmilla so she can love me again. Thanks.
That won't work.
You want to sulk alone. But you can't because you want to talk to your friends like everything's normal. You just want someone to know how fucked up you are. How fucked up this is. You can feel the pain at the back of your skull, pricking your eyes. You have trouble breathing because you can't expand your chest. The lump in your throat only thickens when you think about Carmilla and Laura holed up somewhere holding hands and swapping stories.
You don't drink that much because you're an athlete and you can't compromise your liver, but maybe tonight will be an exception. Perhaps enough alcohol can burn the feelings away. Except you know in the morning you're going to feel shittier than ever.
You know both of them prefer each other over you. And you know Laura's being polite when she asks you if you want to join them on their jaunts. And you do, you really do. But you know they have more fun when they're alone and they're just asking you out of courtesy.
They don't want you.
You're a burden.
It just hurts.