"Mom," my voice cracked.

"What's wrong?"

"He...I..."

I broke down.

My mother grabbed me and pulled me in a tight embrace, filling me with warmth that barely did anything to the ice cold feeling in my chest. She dragged me from outside the doormat to the warm atmosphere inside the house.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay."

"I want to move in," I managed to say.

She shut the front door. "Nate-"

"I'm sure," I said. "I need to stay here. Please."

With a worried expression on her face, my mother led me to a room which I recognized was my own before I moved to the attic.

I was too emotionally tired to register its details, and was swiftly tucked in bed.

I pulled the blankets up over my head and let the burning tears in my eyes slide down the sides of my face.

"Nate, talk to me. I'm worried."

"It hurts," I moaned. "Why does it hurt?"

"Honey, I don't think you liked the boy. I think you loved him."

"No," I said, pulling the blanket down. "No. I don't love him and I never did. He was...nothing."

It felt like nothing.

All that happened...what was it?

It wasn't a relationship.

We weren't even friends with benefit because we never even got to the "benefits" part.

My mother left me alone for a while.

When she came back she brought a hot mug of tea and set it by my bed.

She sat on the bed and leaned over to bush my hair back. "He must have meant a lot to you."

"It was nothing," I repeated.

My mother didn't argue with me.

I let her touch my hair and sooth me, closing my eyes when I finally managed to stop crying.

"I love you," she whispered before kissing my forehead. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She left, switching off the lights except the one near my bed, before shutting the door behind her.

I buried myself under the sheets and closed my eyes.

Love.

I didn't love him. I didn't love him. I didn't love him.

His face appeared in my mind again.

Why did he have to look so good?

I didn't love him.

I remembered his lips on my own-

I didn't love him.

His skin against mine. Slowly tugging his shirt off.

I did not love him.

My eyes stung.

His smile.

I was okay. I was strong. I didn't need him.

I didn't love him.

It wasn't love.

Mr. Lone Boy.

It felt like someone was cutting at my chest with a sharp knife, forever digging into my skin.

I wanted him.

I wanted him so bad that it burned me to the core, a sharp, painful rush of scorching heat.

But Devin had him.

He's probably kissing him and touching him.

I buried my head in my pillow and held my breath.

Five.

He was beautiful.

Four.

He was talented.

Three.

He was funny.

Two.

He wanted me.

One.

I wanted him.

I turned to my side and gasped, my eyes burning and my chest heaving as I tried to suck in as much oxygen as I could.

My eyes grew heavy so I gave up on keeping them stay open. I closed my eyes with a final pain filled sigh.
--

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, the room was no longer filled with darkness but with light.

I pushed down the covers, sitting up in bed.

My head throbbed painfully and I could feel my swollen eyes without even having to touch them.

Sighing, I slipped out of bed, dragging myself to the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth robotically, staring back at my reflection.

My eyes were blood shot and puffy. Some pieces of my hair stuck to my face and I had lines of sleep engraved into my skin.

I moved away from my reflection as fast as I could, hopping in the shower and turning the water on full blast.

I remembered what happened the previous night. I could still remember what Ian had said, how he looked, the feeling of his skin on my wrist, the close proximity of his face to my own.

It was as if I was immune to the memory. I no longer felt the pain I had experienced the night before. My heart did not ache, my stomach did not clench.

As the searing water hit my back, I tried to remember why I was so upset but nothing my memory conjured up was enough to make me feel anything.

I was empty and it was my fault.

I let myself fall into his world, so different and far away from anyone else's. With him I forgot that there was anyone else of importance in my life.

Nothing got in the way.

It was an illusion. There were others out there, people who would be affected by us. People would get hurt.

We both knew it was something temporary, it wouldn't last.

Yet I let myself get hurt.

The worst part was that I knew he wouldn't be hurting as much as I was. Somehow, I grew more attached to him than he did to me. Or so I felt.

No more, I thought, harshly scrubbing at my skin.

I would no longer suffer.

I quickly got dressed after my shower, brushing my wet hair back with my fingers.

His wet hair would stick to his fave, he hated it, but it looked adorbly good on him.

I pushed the image of his face away and stepped outside of the bathroom.

Sunlight flitted through he curtains, bouncing off the dressing table mirror and casting its light on the floorboards.

I scanned the room.

I'd slept in here when I was a child. The same bed, the same drawers and cupboards.

My feet involuntarily led me to one of the drawers.

I pulled it open and at first it looked empty, but when I was around eight years old I learned how to make false drawers.

I pushed the wooden trap at one side so that it swung up and revealed a small notebook.

I reached down and pulled it up, shutting the drawer and leaning against the bed as I flipped open the first page.

There was a drawing of puppy. I was never one to draw much, and being eight years old did not help to improve my drawing skills.

On the next page I drew a rocket ship, and in the small round window I drew a stick figure of myself, staring outside the window with my arms stretched out.

It was a notebook of all the things I wanted, I realized.

I flipped through more pages; mountain trips, flying through cities along with Superman, diving underwater, walking down enchanted forests.

My drawings stopped abruptly halfway through the notebook. My drawing was improved from the first one, my lines not as squiggly and uncertain.

It was a drawing of two hands clasped together and a small doodled heart slightly above the two hands.

I scoffed. It was my representation of a loving relationship and I clearly had not a single clue about it.

Nor did it feel like I ever would.

I glanced at the drawing one last time before putting the note book away in its drawer.

I walked out of the bedroom and down the spiral staircase to the living room.

I had assumed right and both my parents sat on the seats. My mother sat with a book in her hand and a cup of tea in the other, while my father held a mug of coffee as the local newspaper splayed out on his lap.

My mother glanced up as I walked in and her eyes widened as she slowly set her things aside before standing.

"I wasn't sure you would be awake so early."

"I'm fine," I said.

"Are you hungry?" my father asked.

I glanced at him before quickly looking away. "A little."

"I'll tell them to set up another plate," he said before leaving the room.

My mother walked over to me and hugged me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded against her shoulder. "I think I was exaggerating last night. I'm okay."

She stepped back and gave me a stern look. "You are not okay. You're pushing it away like it never happened."

"Because it never did. There was nothing there. It was clearly all in my head."

I saw her grimace, shaking her head. "Nate, you need to talk to him and-"

"No," I cut her off rudely. "He made it clear."

I walked over to one of the seats and fell back against it before grabbing onto the newspaper my father left behind.

My mother took a seat beside me and asked, "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said swiftly.

"Fine, but you should know that ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away."

Her words rung in my head like a warning, but I stubbornly cast them aside and focused my eyes on the words printed on the paper.

Breakfast was calm and relaxing, and we took our time eating.

"I know you were tired and upset last night, but did you mean it when you said that you'd like to move in?" my mother asked.

I nodded. "I should be getting my things soon."

"We can send some people to do that if you'd like," she suggested.

I shook my head. "No, I want to do it myself."

"If you're sure. When will you go?"

"Today. I have nothing better to do."

She nodded, still looking a bit worried.

My father asked, "What about your education?"

Ian's face resurfaced in my mind and I flinched a little.

"I don't know," I admitted sourly. "I'll figure it out."

"You don't think you could go back to school?"

I tensed.

"There are only a few month left."

"No," I said. "I can't."

His gaze lingered on for quite some time before he finally looked away.

It felt a bit weird and awkward sitting there and knowing that both my parents knew what happened last night.

Sure, they didn't know everything. They didn't know that I basically helped Ian cheat on my best friend. Devin. Hell, they knew Devin. He used to come by our house all the time despite my protests. I was always fonder of his family as opposed to mine.

"We'll figure it out," my mother said, and I glanced at her gratefully.

"I think I'm going to get the rest of my things now," I said, standing from my seat.

I watched as my mother tried to suppress the smile from her face.

Her life was finally coming together, the way it should have been all along.

I walked back to my the bedroom and grabbed my phone before heading out to my car.

As I said my quick goodbyes I realized mine was too.

Not relationship wise, because that seemed impossibly out of reach.

So far I had zero luck in that department.

But the rest of my life didn't seem so bad.

In fact, I had it better than most people.

I had a family, a home, a few people I could call friends.

I had a car, a decent education, and even some sort of a job.

Speaking of, I was probably going to lose said job if I didn't hurry my ass back to my apartment.

I tried to maintain these optimistic thoughts as I neared my apartment building.

I drove past the café and was instantly reminded of that karaoke night with Ian. I could not remember a busier night than that. A night filled with such various emotions.

It brought a sharp pang to my chest and I forced my self to take deep breaths and concentrate on the road while all I really wanted to do was pull to a stop and curl up in a ball of self-pity.

I didn't deserve to cry.

The heartbreak that I felt wasn't meant for me.

As I parked my car and sluggishly climbed out of it, I thought of what he could be doing at the moment.

Are they together?

Did Ian tell him?

The last thought should have bothered me but by then I knew my friendship with Devin would never be the way it was before. Especially if I felt guilty.

But did I feel guilty?

I swallowed. Of course I felt guilty, or else I'd no longer be human.

I got to my apartment and unlocked the door, the dog bounding over at the sound of my entrance.

I bent down and ruffled his fur. "We're going home, bud."

He yapped a few times before hurrying away, back to his pillow.

I never had much things. Only the basics. I could have, if I wanted to, but I never really felt the need to spend my money on things other than necessities.

Therefore, as I pulled out a few empty boxes I had kept when I first moved in, I knew the process of packing would not take me too long.

Not wanting to delve into my thoughts too much, I walked over to the sound system and pressed play so that music boomed simultaneously from every room in the apartment.

I quickly began pushing my clothes into a box, rolling them in and stuffing them in the cardboard boxes. Then I pulled out another, and another, until all my clothes were off the shelves, along with my shoes and other items for wear.

I moved on to my other belongings. Books, disks, DVDs, souvenirs, toiletries, kitchen utensils, and so on.

By the time I had packed all things I could pack, I was exhausted and starving.

I looked around my apartment, my walls barren.

My desk, for the first time in years, wasn't littered with papers, and my pin board was only a cork board with minuscule punctures.

It no longer looked like my apartment.

It looked like it never belonged to anybody.

Slowly, I carried a few boxes to the trunk of my car.

It was a long and energy draining process.

First, the boxes were heavy. Second, the walk from the elevator to my car was not a short one.

I was carrying the fifth box out of a thousand others when Rob's apartment door swung open.

"Nate, what are you doing?" he asked, staring at me before glancing at the box in my arms.

"I'm moving back to my parents'."

His curious expression changed to a grimace. "Jeez, are you serious?"

I nodded, shifting to get a better grip at the box I was holding. "Yup."

"Well, as long as you're happy...Do you need help with that?"

"If you don't mind," I said.

"Not at all," he said, shutting the door behind him and coming forward to carry a box.

"So how are things with you and Adrianna?" I asked.

Rob's entire aura brightened. "They're great! I could go as far as say that I think I might be slowly falling for her. I'm in too deep, man."

I smiled a little, wondering how that must feel.

"What about you?"

I frowned. "What about me?"

He chuckled. "C'mon, there must be someone."

I looked down at the box in my hands. "No. There's no one."

"Ah, well you still have a lot of time," he said.

"I guess."

My heart did that thing where it clenched and unclenched painfully, but I didn't want to think about it. So I didn't.

A little while later, after a long discussion on Adrianna and more Adrianna, Rob and I had finally stuffed all the boxes in my car. The car boot didn't take long before it filled up so we had to squeeze some boxes in the back seats and driver's seat. They finally fit in after that.

"What about the rest of your things?" Rob asked.

"I'll get some moving guys later," I said. "Anyway, thanks for the help. I need to get going."

He nodded. "Of course. Good luck with everything, and let's not lose contact?"

"As long as you don't forget to invite me to your wedding," I teased.

I never knew Rob could blush. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Yeah, sure."

I grabbed the dog and let him in one of the dog carrier things, before finally sliding in my car.

One last stop, I thought as drove out of the parking space.

Heyy,
I think I enjoy writing depressing scenes more than any of the others. Wooops.

Question: have you ever had to move from one place to another. I've only moved once, but I still live in the same city, just a different house.

Oh and if this chapter's editing is crap, it's because I've done it all half asleep.

Thank you so much for reading! :D