I had this sudden urge to write angst. I haven't written much before, but I hope y'all like it anyway.
Blame It On Her
They called him heartless. They were right. He had become heartless again, and he blamed it on her.
Antisocial. Also correct. He wasn't the kind of person anybody wanted to mess with anymore, and he blamed it on her.
Negative. Another one. He was becoming negative, no doubt. It was to such an extent that it had become his media-given nickname. Everyone liked the slight return of his mean side, and he liked that. But he blamed it all on her.
Depressed. He would lock himself in his room for days on end. He knew it was just another break-up, and that he was overreacting, but it killed him inside. The only thing that would help was the knife, causing enough momentary pain to make him forget about her for a while. He was fine with that. But he still blamed it on her.
They said he was distracted. He was overthinking things. He couldn't deny that he was. It almost got him fired. That too, he blamed on her.
They claimed he was weak. That he was taking the whole situation like a teenage girl, instead of handling it like the strong guy he was known to be. He believed she had made him weak. She had broken him. So, he also blamed that on her.
And in the media's eyes, he was going from becoming another loveable 'most desirable' to a ruined 'most wanted'. Who would he blame but her?
It all was her fault. She didn't even know that all of this was happening to him, all because of her. It was almost as if they'd switched personalities in this case: she was the careless heartbreaker, and he was the innocent lover with no idea what was to come.
He knew it was arguable that it was all his own fault for ordering that stupid recount on that stupid award. But she was the one who had taken the decision and broken up with him two weeks previously. So she was to blame.
Who was he to blame but her? Heartbreak was a completely new concept to him. He was used to meaningless, feelingless relationships, and dating just for the sake of it. He'd never experienced heartbreak, and he really hadn't intended to. But when he'd found himself falling hard for the girl who destroyed him, a small part of him had tried to pull him back. It had told him that something or the other would go wrong. But he had made the big mistake of ignoring it. He'd made the mistake of falling in love.
He stood up from the couch, and leant his forehead against the wall, shutting his eyes. He punched the solid wall, hard, with as much strength as he could manage. Once more. It shook a little. It was weak; he was not. But who was he kidding? He knew that the anger management technique wouldn't help in the slightest. He knew that there was only one way he could stop thinking about Sonny.
He sat down, leaning against the wall, defeated. He picked up the knife from the table and let the blade slide across his wrist, telling himself to not to think about her. It hurt him. Unbearably. No, he decided; he would not be so weak.
"Chad?" The worried voice calling him was familiar. Too familiar. He looked up, into the chocolate brown eyes of the one who was unknowingly killing him. Sonny Munroe. The concern was obvious in her expression. She snatched the knife from his hand, with a sudden disbelieving look on her face. "You're… Why?"
He ignored the simple question. He simply stood up, got a tissue and started to clean up the cut. It wasn't very deep – he reckoned it could've been worse. Rather, it should have been worse.
"Chad, why are you doing this to yourself?" Sonny asked. He could sense that she had moved, to stand behind him.
"Why do you care?" He snapped. He was sure she was asking just out of the kindness she was known to posess so much of.
"Just because we broke up doesn't mean I don't still care about you." She replied calmly, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. He didn't like the way she phrased that. 'Just because we broke up.' As if they'd decided and agreed on it. Like it was some sort of planned tragedy.
"You don't. I know you don't." He said. If she cared about him that much, she wouldn't have broken up with him, and not even noticed that it was what threw him into the black hole of depression. "Get outta here."
"No." She said, sounding unusually firm.
"What, don't you have someone else's heart to go and crush? Or have you come back just to watch me fall apart?" He asked bitterly. He knew she was never like that, but if their break-up could change him so much, it could have changed her too. That was unlikely; it was always the one being dumped that felt all the aftershock of their world being shaken and torn, whilst the other person felt nothing. But she didn't know what was going on in his mind. She slapped him.
"How could you even think I'd get over you and move on so quickly?" She yelled. He silently continued to glare at her. "You're… You're unbelievable." She sighed, and left the room. He was glad she left.
He flopped back down onto the soft couch, staring at the ceiling. He started to think. How would the rest of his life continue? Would he spend it all just missing her? What could he do to get her back? In fact, did he really want her back at all? And what if everything went wrong, and he became a worthless failure?
One thing was for sure, though. If his life was ruined, he'd blame it on her.
Wow, that was longer than I'd expected…oh well.
Peace and reviews :')
-Sarah x