JULIETS POV

I would tell everyone today.

I would tell them all that I relapsed.

Tell them that I have been lying to them for over a month.

It takes me a ridiculous amount of time to drag myself out of bed. I am in so much pain that all I want to do is bury my head under my duvet and stay there.

I don't feel right. My mind is reeling and my body is in agony. By the time I change into some clothes and brush my teeth, my body feels like it is trying to hack itself apart from the inside out.

Ten minutes later, I'm standing at his door.

I knock four times before the door swings open and Warner is standing in front of me, tired and dishevelled, with a look of utter confusion creasing his brow. "Jules? Are you okay?"

He is silent for a long moment, looking at me. I know what he is doing. He is worrying about how he can make it better for me.

My gaze trails over him and I feel safe again. He's only wearing sweatpants, no shirt, and his hair is tousled from sleep. His eyes search mine and his hands reach for me. "Warner..." I whisper, and the words won't come out.

He might not forgive me when he finds out how much of a screw-up I am.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his for one last kiss. He holds me tight against his chest as if he is afraid of letting me go.

He kisses me with conviction and apology and anger, and it's somehow all wrapped up in tenderness. When our tongues meet, it's a momentary reprieve from reality. We both exhale softly because this is exactly how a kiss should feel. My knees want to buckle from the feel of his lips against mine.

I kiss him harder, even though I know this kiss won't lead to anything. It won't correct anything. It won't right any of my wrongs, but I also know it could be the last time I get to kiss him, and I don't want to deny myself that.

He wraps his arm around me, sliding one hand up my neck and into my hair. He cradles my head and it feels as if he's attempting to memorize every aspect of the way it feels when we kiss.

The kiss between us quickly grows painful, and not in a physical sense. The more we kiss, the more I realize what I'm losing and it hurts. It scares me to know that there's a chance I've come across one of the few people in this world who can make me feel this way, and I might have to give it up.

Warner pulls back and looks me in the eyes with a pained expression like he knows what I'm going to say. He moves his hand from the back of my head and brings it to my cheek, brushing a thumb over my bottom lip. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just worried and I hate that you lied to me."

My heart is racing so hard in my chest at this moment that I find myself breathing faster, exhaling in short, puffy breaths.

"I deserved to be yelled at. I lied to you. And it's not the only time I have lied recently."

Warner is silent at my confession and his hand is no longer on me. I try not to cringe when he takes a step away from me.

My palms practically drip sweat. Every doubt and insecurity about my body crowds in on me, but I force those aside. I shove past my humiliation and fear, to tell the truth.

"I may have relapsed."

Don't look at him.

If I look at him, I will lose it, and I am already half out of my mind. The stress, guilt and exhaustion of the past month has seeped into my bones, turning me into a walking zombie.

But I can't help myself. I look.

And my heart promptly splinters into even more pieces than it already has.

Warner stares at me, so still, that he could pass for a statue if not for the pain flickering in his eyes.

"May have?" His calm, even tone never bodes well.

"I'm okay though." The words taste bitter on my tongue, like poison pills of lies I am feeding myself to get through the next hour. "It was only a few times..."

"A few times..." He still speaks in that dangerously calm voice.

"Yes." I wrap my arms tighter around myself. "I'm sorry."

"Are you serious right now?" His green eyes darken to a near black and a vein throbs in his temple. "Let me get this straight. You lied to me even though I gave you multiple opportunities to come clean," he pauses and takes a deep breath like he is trying very hard to stay calm. "I have given you so many chances to tell me that you aren't okay."

Frustration sears through me, sharp and hot. Didn't he get it?

"I couldn't tell you! Not when you kept saying how proud you were of me! Not when everyone around me kept reminding me how amazing I was doing! I'm a failure okay? I'm a fucking joke. You kicked me out of your room last night when I told you about one screw-up. You really think that made me want to open up to you about all the other ways I have been messing up?"

"Juliet..."

The sound of my name, deep and raw, scrapes against my willpower, leaving dents in something that was never strong to begin with. Not when it comes to him.

I close my eyes, trying to find the cool, unshakeable version of myself I have been presenting. The one who has smiled through hours of spending time with friends when all she wants to do is rot in bed. The one who goes to class every day, completes all her coursework and holds back her tears until she is alone in her room.

But I can't. I've never been able to hide how I truly feel from Warner. At least not very well.

I hear him walk toward me. Feel him rub away a tear I didn't know escaped with his thumb.

Don't look at him. Don't look at him.

"Jules, look at me."

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut tighter. My emotions form a tight knot in my throat making it near impossible to breathe.

"Juliet." Firmer this time, more commanding. "Look at me."

I look at him.

Angry eyes stare back at me, crackling with turmoil.

"How long? How long have you been lying to me and all your friends?"

I could lie but there is no point anymore.

"It started the fifth night you were gone."

Warner's grip on my chin tightens. "And how long after that?" His voice breaks for the first time, and my heart cracks in response. "Tell me."

"It hasn't stopped."

Warner flinches. One tiny movement but it will haunt me forever.

"So you have been lying to me for over a month? Just like that? You lied straight to my face the night I got back. You continued to lie even after I told you how much it would hurt me if you did." His voice comes out low and dangerous, edged with pain.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"No, you're not sorry because if you were you would've told me. Every day that you don't tell me what's going on, every time you hurt yourself, you are killing me. I can't lose you again, I almost lost you in that parking lot and I can't go through that again." His lips tighten as he relives the pain. I see it. I see it in his every move, his every word; he has been transported back to that painful place. "We are meant to be a team, you have a support system and instead of asking for help you are pushing us away." He announces, throwing his hands up in the air.

I wished I told him earlier. I wish I had said fuck it to Dr.Ivey's advice and confided in my boyfriend because the way Warner is looking at me right now makes me want to take it all back. The disappointment in his eyes, the anger, it is all there because of me.

"You told me you were doing great. You told me you wouldn't lie to me." He grips his hair in frustration and I don't know what to say.

"Please don't be mad at me," I whisper pathetically.

"Don't be mad at you? Of course, I'm mad at you! You lied to my fucking face. I wasn't there but you could've called. You know I would've left the second you called if something was wrong."

"That's the problem, Warner! You can't leave and come rescue me every time something goes wrong! I need to learn to do things without you! "

The anger on his face makes me step back as he lets out a laugh that has no humour in it. "And look how great that turned out! I was so worried about you while I was gone and it turns out it was for a good reason. Now I can't go away without worrying you're going to hurt yourself!"

Is he serious? I didn't relapse because of him!

"Screw you, Warner. It's not about you! I didn't relapse because of you!" I spit the words out too quickly. I'm yelling at him because I'm angry at myself...I need to stop. I try to backtrack before he can answer, "I can't have you blaming yourself every time I screw up. Sometimes I am going to mess up, okay? It doesn't mean it's your fault!"

"I can't keep putting myself through this Juliet. You are killing yourself and I can't just stand here and watch it happen."

"Don't you get it, Warner? That's the point of me not telling you. I'm not trying to put you through anything! I want a boyfriend, not a therapist. I have a therapist already."

He looks wounded like I just shoved a blade through his chest "I'm not trying to be your fucking therapist! I just don't want you to shut me out. Fuck Dr. Ivey okay? Fuck her for whatever she is saying to you to make you feel like you can't come to me!"

I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know who to listen to and my head is so full of different advice and different people being mad at me that I can no longer have this conversation.

It looks like Warner is done with it too. He looks done with me.

I reach out to him, and he steps back out of my reach "Don't," he rasps.

His face shows everything he is feeling and he looks betrayed. I did betray him. I lied to him. I broke his trust.

I knew this might happen.

"I can't keep doing this Jules."

No. No. No

"I'm sorry okay? I promise this time I'll—"

"No. No more empty promises. I can't watch this anymore, and neither can the rest of your friends."

"I'm sorry. I love you," I say instantly, but the words fall flat and heavy when they should have soared. They are hollow and cheap.

"Not enough," he declares with a sad kind of triumph as if he had just been waiting for me to disappoint him all along. "Not enough, if you couldn't come to me with this."

I don't know what else to say so I step out of his room to leave. I want him to ask me to stay but he doesn't. He just stares at me, not masking the disappointment on his face before he closes the door without another word.

One minute he is there. The next, he is gone.

I walk back to my room before I crumple, my knees giving out beneath me as I sink onto the floor and hot tears scald my cheeks and drip off my chin. My chest heaves so hard I can't draw enough oxygen into my lungs, and I am sure I will die right here on the floor.

All the times he asked me to be honest and I lied

Did anything happen when I was gone? Are you really okay? Are you still on track? Please don't lie to me

You better not be lying to me. You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Not after everything we have been through

Snippets of memories crowd my brain and I press my face into my blanket, muffling my sobs.

I did the right thing. I told him the truth and I hurt more than I did before.

_______

WARNERS POV

I am miserable.

It is the weekend before the soccer finals and tonight is the big fancy black tie event to celebrate our soccer team. Westshore University hasn't made it to the finals in a few years so the University has pulled out all the stops.

They transformed the building into a spring-like dream with flowers everywhere, a giant dance floor and even splashed out on an open bar. I know that Juliet has to be loving the decorations. We were meant to be at attending tonight's event together but she was going to go with her friends instead.

It hurt to think about.

I was still angry at her from our conversation last night, but as soon as I round the corner towards the bar, I see her.

And all my anger slips away.

Juliet Matthews

She is a vision, draped in a floor-length dress that glitters like starlight against her skin. The dress is sleeveless on one arm but wraps all the way down to her wrist on the other, the neckline elegant and refined where it slants her chest. I know even without her turning around that it has a low back, the slivers of her ribcage visible from my viewpoint giving it away.

Her hair is brushed back into a high, sleek bun that transforms her from a young woman into a timeless movie star. She smiles with her rose-painted lips, green eyes sparkling under the lights as she speaks to Adam with confidence, her chin lifted, shoulders squared.

I was speechless.

I was mesmerized

She ambles up the toward the bar. Toward me. With a serene smile on her face, she radiates light. She greets everyone, offering them a pleasant good morning like she is some sort of Disney princess. Friendly and sweet, and so god damned beautiful, It almost hurts to look at her for too long.

And I am rooted to the spot until the moment her eyes flash from Adam and land on me.

I think about kissing Juliet more than I think about anything else. It's my go-to thought when my mind has a minute to spare.

I was in love with every single thing about her and it had nothing to do with the physical – and the physical was pretty fucking perfect.

Her pain makes me want to rage. To throw shit around and scream because I feel like it's all my fault. I shouldn't have left her alone when I knew she wasn't doing okay. I shouldn't have listened to her therapist when she said we needed space.

Her lying to me makes me want to rage twice as hard.

The two of them walk up to me and Juliet is the first to break the awkward silence.

"Wow," she breathes, letting out a low whistle as her eyes run up the length of me. "I knew you could clean up, but I forget how good you look in a suit."

She smiles with the compliment, all light and easy and playful like we hadn't screamed at each other last night. A few days ago, I wouldn't have noticed that she was putting on some sort of façade but now I knew.

Seeing her almost makes me forget how angry I am. She seems to notice the exact moment I remember I am angry because she mumbles something about finding Abby and steps away from Adam and me.

Adam watches me closer than I want him to. He's got an intense stare. I think it's worse because his eyes are so dark it's like he is looking into my soul. Not in a dreamy way but in a scary way.

He's just watching me, nearly frowning but not at me.

"What?" I ask, tearing my eyes away so I can watch Juliet who has found Abby across the room.

Adam turns and he is now watching her, eyes pinched. "You think she does it to everyone?"

"Does what?"

He shrugs. "Makes them feel like they're—I don't know? The sun."

I glare at him because I know he has been harbouring a crush on Juliet since he met her and it bothers me. It bothers me that everyone is in love with my girlfriend. It bothers me that she seems to be the only person who doesn't see how amazing she is.

When I don't respond he continues on, "You should talk to her. Work things out."

"You make it sound easy," I mutter eyeing his drink. I could use one.

"You will never find someone with the same connection you have with Juliet," he says, laughing like I was being ridiculous. "You two grew up together. You have been in love with her forever. In the seven months, you have been together she has made you a better man and helped you change your life for the better. You look at her like you worship the ground she walks on and she looks at you like you are the answer to all of her problems."

"What Juliet and I have is none of your business, respectfully." My neck burns with anger, but I hold my voice steady and as calm as I can.

"Fair enough," he says after a moment. "Well, the choice is yours. But if I were in your shoes, I know what mine would be."

He walks away and I frown.

___

I can't find Juliet.

After what she told me yesterday, I can't help but count the minutes she is gone.

I wait ten minutes before I follow her. I wait another ten before I knock on the girl's bathroom door.

"Juliet!" I keep knocking. "Juliet, let me in!"

I can hear the lock unlatch and I grow more nervous. When she finally opens the door, and I see her standing in front of me, every part of me exhales, even my heart.

Remnants of tears line her cheeks, and the two seconds it takes to enter the room and pull her to me feels like an hour too long. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Her voice is anything but fine. She sounds terrified. I push her away from me until she's at arm's length, and I take her in.

Another lie

Wasn't she sick of lying to me? I know I am sick of hearing her lie to me.

Her head is moving back and forth and she's telling me no. She can see the fury in my eyes.

"So you're still going to lie to me?" I shake my head a bit, waiting for an answer and she pulls away from me, distressed and sad. 

She says nothing. Just stares past me at something on the wall like she can't bear to look at me.

"Please just leave me alone."

There she was, pushing me away again. The anger bubbles in me before I can stop it and the words leave my mouth without thought.

"Doesn't seem like you want Adam to leave you alone. Is it just me that can't know what's wrong? Or do you just rotate between the two of us? I'm guessing it's Adam's turn today?"

Her eyes widen and she takes a step back but stumbles. When my arm shoots out to help her, she flinches.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

The regret is instant like a bullet to the heart. It's one thing to lash out because I'm pissed, but it's another to talk to Juliet this way.

Say something.

I wish I could go back in time and make better choices because the look on her face guts me. Absolutely makes a wreck of my insides to the point of physical pain. "Juliet, I shouldn't have said that I—"

Her head hangs. She's sad. Fuck. I hate it when she's sad. She could have lopped off my entire arm and if she looked a bit sad about it, I'd offer her my other one if it'd cheer her up.

She stays silent, so I pull her into me. Her arms hang by her sides which only increases my desperation. I want her to do something—anything really, so long as it takes away this feeling growing in my gut.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against her forehead. I break away to find a few tears streaming down her face. I brush them away, trying to erase the evidence of my words, only to find more in their wake. It's like trying to fix a leak with duct tape. Nothing works to stop the tears from breaking free, and they only make me more frustrated.

"Please don't cry."

Her brows tug together as she looks up at me with glistening eyes.

She doesn't even seem to be looking at me but rather through me. Her glistening eyes serve as a window to her soul, and what I find is devastating. A beautifully broken soul who happens to be a mirror of mine.

I feel no better than my father, wielding words like knives out of anger. While it might not leave the same kind of wounds as fists, words can do more damage than anything.

She doesn't meet my eyes as she sniffles.

I pull her against me, this time kissing the top of her head. Except her usual sigh is absent, She doesn't melt into me the way she always does, and my worry only intensifies.

"Please let go of me," she rasps as she pushes against my chest.

I release her like