James
James had forgotten what it felt like.
The art of heart-breaking, that is. He used to be so practiced in it - breaking girls' hearts, but now they've turned it around on him. Now he's the one whose heart is getting broken. And fuck, it hurts.
It's a rainy afternoon when Lily climbs up on his bed. For a moment she doesn't say anything. But then she pushes his shoulder not-so gently and tells him, "You deserve it, James. You're such a bloody tosser."
Instead of insulting her back like he ususally did, James just lays his hand flat on his stomach and stares at the roof. He traces the cracks in the ceiling with his eyes, imagining that this must be what his heart looks like right now. "Yeah. I know, Lily."
"Who's your next victim then?"
He hasn't got an answer because strangely enough, he just doesn't feel like another girl to keep him company for once. He doesn't want to break another girls heart because he remembers what it feels like when it happens to you. It feels like... the world has been set on fire and buildings are crumbling to the ground. "No-one, Lils."
James knows his heart might not ever be the same. It's kind of like breaking a tea cup. It falls, shatters and you glue it back together but there's always a piece that doesn't quite match up.
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