Groaning, I reached and grabbed my phone, observing the screen. The second my mind processed the name that had reached out for me, I instantly froze, my heart rate going at an unhealthily fast speed. What could this boy ever want to do with me? Why is he trying to contact me? We haven't spoken for nearly two years now, and I liked it that way. I needed it that way.

Without thinking, my arm swung the phone against the wall aggressively, nerves burning at my skin and haunted memories aching to roam my mind like they toxically did those years ago. My jaw was clenched, my teeth almost crushing one another with force, every cell within me desperately trying to prevent the breakdown that was inevitably going to come soon enough. I didn't want to cry, I couldn't cry. I acted so cold and heartless then and it caused immense consequences, so why should I be able to let my emotions out now? I can't. I should hold it in. Everything. I am suffering more than anyone could know, bottling up my emotions is killing me. I want to explode and let everything out, I need to, but I can't. I deserve this suffering I am going through, and god forbid I put anyone else through listening to my pathetic weak self.

I'm like a glass vase. A broken glass vase. There are cracks running throughout my whole body, prone to break any second. But I'm trying, I keep trying. Using small pieces of sellotape to cover the cracks to stop any emotion from breaking out, it worked for some time. But the cracks are only getting bigger now and I'm running out of sellotape. I'm like a ticking time bomb, likely to explode at any minute, and this text, this memory that had resurfaced, it almost sped the countdown till my breakdown by 200%.

I lifted myself off the bed and launched against the wall, my fist colliding with the suffocatingly white surface, a dent where my hand landed. I thought this would help, but it didn't. The anger and emotions were still consuming my mind like a virus, infecting my whole body, ruthlessly. So, I punched the wall again, and again. Six times. Six dents. Six indentations all messily thrown over the wall. That's when the door swung open and then closed shortly after. My back was facing them, but I could hear the rapid shuffling across the room.

"Dalton, p-please stop." A hand gently rested on my shoulder, causing my body to swing around, making them flinch. It was Jack. He stood there, fear drawn on his face as he stared deep in into my rage-filled eyes.

I faced him completely and returned the eye contact which lasted for a second before his eyes glanced down to my hands that were clenched into tight balls. He looked up for a second, almost asking for permission, however, without an answer, he reached and grabbed my right hand, pulling it closer to his face to examine it better.

My hands were shaking violently, along with the rest of my body, and I was still tense as fuck. I wanted to pull away from him. I wanted to stop his curious blue eyes from seeing the real me, the broken boy overwhelmed with anger and guilt. But, yet, I didn't pull away.

He finally refocused on me, keeping my bruised and beaten hand in his warm ones. He held it so close to his face that I could feel his hot breath graze over my fingers, somehow pushing the throbbing and stinging to the back of my mind.

"C-come with me." He carefully intertwined our fingers together, getting a gentle grip on my hand and pulling me to the connected bathroom in my room. I complied, walking to the bathroom and lifting my body to sit on the counter by the sink. Jack grabbed some tissue and began to soak it before lightly dabbing at the freshly dried blood.

"You c-can tell me, you know?" He muttered so quietly, it was almost inaudible. I didn't reply, not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't. Instead, I simply shook my head, which gained a soft sigh from Jack.

"I'm sorry that you're broken, I wish I could help." He spoke so quickly and nervously as he looked up and met my eyes. I pushed my body away from the wall behind me, unintentionally bringing myself closer to the boy. We were now inches apart. Both, mine and his breathing were quick right now as we gazed at each other, not sure what to do next. His stare gave me butterflies, but why? He made me feel insecure, but no one else could ever make me care about their opinion. So why was he having such an impact on me.

His eyes were blue, so blue, so fucking blue. The deep ocean eyes glistened under the yellow bathroom lights, shining like sapphire. They reminded me of someone. Someone from long ago. Someone who possessed the same electricity, captivating as ever. That's all it took. Jack's eyes were so similar to his and it was too much. It caused all the repressed memories to flood back into my mind like a tsunami, invading my head within a millisecond.

Tears began to form in my eyes as I pulled away from him. Fuck, Jack can't see me like this. He can't see me as the weak person I am. I felt the cool liquid run down my face and Jack's expression instantly morphed into worry. I pushed my body off the counter in an attempt to get away from Jack however as I proceeded to walk out, a hand confidently clamped around my wrist pulling my back until my body was pressed against his completely. He wrapped his arms around my back and placed his head on my shoulder, gently breathing into my neck as his hands lightly drew circles on my back. He whispered soothingly into my ear.

My tears were still evident, but they slowed down almost immediately. My breathing also began to return to a normal rate. I felt at peace. I felt safe.
Why? I barely knew him and here he was, engulfing me into a hug that I would normally find intoxicating from anyone else, but from him it felt right, it felt necessary.

That's why I finally hugged back, tightly gripping at the back of his shirt as I buried my head into the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths to cool my racing heart rate.

Maybe it was just because of the tears. It was definitely because of the tears that made me mirror his movements and hug him back. I was showing my other side to him, a side that was broken and needed affection and reassurance, not the side that I spent years building, that was cold and ruthless and careless and selfish. I wasn't showing him the familiar side that would have shoved him away with disgust if he had wrapped his arms around me.

We stood there for a while, him taking calming smooth breaths over my skin, leaving unconscious goose bumps. He pulled back, however, after a few seconds, his arms were still knotted around my body, but his face was lifted off my shoulder until it was a few inches away from mine.

"I k-know you d-don't want to talk about it right n-now but uhm, I uh, I hope y-you can tell me one day. I will always, a-always listen." He whispered, observing my face and trying to read me.

I wanted to tell him, I really did. I wanted to tell anybody, anyone that would listen. I wanted to get everything that has been haunting me off my chest, but I couldn't. I can't. I don't deserve to. If I had managed to be so evil and cold before to cause all this suffering of others, then I don't deserve to have the pleasure of relieving myself. I should deal with this myself, I have to. I have a feeling that Jack really wouldn't tell anyone and that I could trust him, but his trust is not the issue, me being a heartless monster and never considering other's feelings is the issue. I must face the consequences by myself, there's no other way.

Also, what would Jack think of me if I did tell him my past. He would judge me. He would think I was a disgusting person. I can't have him think of me like that. I can't tell him, there's no way.

"I know, thank you, Jack." A subtle but genuine smile grew upon his face as his grip on my body grew tighter slightly.

"I know it's early, b-but I uhm think it would b-be a good idea for you-us to get some sleep. It has been one hell o-of a day." He smiled one last time before finally letting go of my body, instantly making me miss the contact.

He guided me to my bed and then stumbled over to his mattress on the opposite side of the bed.

"Goodnight, Dalton." He whispered, before rustling around  in his bed to get comfy.

Just as I was about to wish him a good night sleep too, all these familiar ideas of why I hated him raced through my mind; my face scrunched up at the thoughts. I want to hate him, I do hate him. But tonight, he was a good person, even when I was a dick.