If I can't be everything to you.....you will be nothin to me

pathetic

The farm was dark when he came home. Wednesday night? His parents should have already been asleep, and he’d be alone. Which was fine. That was fine .

He landed at the front door and reached for the handle, but he thought better of it, didn’t want to go inside, yet, didn’t want to remember yet.

So he circled his way out back, found the empty shed where they didn’t keep animals, where they kept tools and hay and sometimes their truck, where even his dad didn’t often come. And he used to hate the barn, hate it because it carried bad memories, but now it felt like the badness was in him, like he was the shadow, the dark thing, the mistake, and he’d made so many. He’d made so damn many!

He grimaced and grabbed at a stack of hay, blindly, throwing it across the yard. Took more and more each time he reached, again tossing madly, wherever felt right, but nothing did, nothing felt right, everything was wrong! Everything was so wrong! Everything was bad and it was his fault and this was never how things should have gone! Never !

Stupid, stupid ! He was so stupid !

He grabbed more, and more, until eventually the barn was littered in hay, until the pile was no more and he had nothing to throw, so he picked it up off the ground and threw it all again. It scattered like projectile vomit and it made him sick, he made himself sick, took it all in his hands and stomped his feet as he pitched it at the wall. The ball hit, exploded, splattered hay in the creases and slumped like a body to the ground and he wanted to follow it. Stupid, stupid! He was so stupid!

“...Jon?” In the distance, he could hear it, hear his dad, hear his mom getting up from bed, the creak of the wood-- and it reminded him of his dreams and he felt like he was going to be sick!

He grimaced. “AH!” Took the hay, as much as his hands and their size could hold, could handle, and slammed in down into the ground, made it shake. He fell to his knees, tried to grab more of it, stuff more and more into his hands, tried to make it feel heavier, throw it harder. If he could just break it, shred every piece, tear it all apart, it would help, maybe, help the hole that was tearing into his heart and ripping him a bit piece by piece. If he just broke every strand, if he just felt it snap like something in him did when he saw his hands on her hips  , he could make it stop, make this pain go away, forget the fountain and the black coat and the blue eyes and the sighing

he wanted to forget it all.

His phone started ringing and he hated it, took it out to shut up the tone, make it stop, because he didn’t need the extra noise, he was trying to make his mind shut up, and of course it was her.

Irisa, her name and her phone number flashing across the screen.

He thought about her, her hair, how soft it was, to hold her hand , to feel her lay her head against his chest. He thought about her voice, how she was always talking, how she talked about her family, how she talked about the titans, asked him how they were. He thought about the way she fit in the palm of his hands.

And he felt disgusted.

He grinded his teeth, felt his eyes burning and he squeezed them shut because it hurt, everything hurt, he wanted it to stop, he wanted it all to stop, just for a moment, just so he could catch up and breath--!

His teeth parted and he screamed, howled, threw his phone as hard as he could at the wall and watched it shattered into a million pieces, watched the wood of the wall snap, watched it bend and break as her name disappeared in a flash of broken wires, shattered cards, fractured glass, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care one bit.

He blinked, tried to get the tears to stop but they kept coming, gushing out of him, swallowing his face, soaking his cheeks, hitting his hand as he bent over on his hands and knees. He couldn’t do this anymore. He sobbed, choked and whined and screamed to himself as he buried his head into the ground, into the hay, lost between his white-flag hands.

“Jon?” The barn door creaked open but he didn’t look up, didn’t want to, could hardly register the sounds as he grieved and wailed. “Jon!”

(Lois waited at the door with tears in her eyes, a hand over her mouth as her baby broke his own heart, as he sobbed for something lost, something close to him, and they knew what that was, knew all along it had to be her, had to be.)

He tried to force himself further into the hay and the grass and the dirt, tried to force himself away, away from the world, but his dad was still a man with a great many years on him, still pulled him from the barn floor and into his arms, squeezed him against his chest and let him soak his shirt with wails and sobs as he screamed and cried.

“I don't want this anymore! I--I don’t--!”

He didn’t want her anymore.

947 words
Hey long time no see as I mentioned in my other story I will start updating  more hopefully .

Arrevedercci 💎