a daydream away // moey fanfiction

4

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned."

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(Joey's POV.)

 I bit down on my lip as hard as I could until I felt the salty taste of red liquid pool onto my tongue. I squinted my eyes shut as little dribbles of tears slipped off my cheeks. I slammed my laptop shut. I knew she watched as the message came up on her screen. I knew she waited until I canceled it. She sat there, not wanting to accept it. I sat here, feeling like a complete idiot, as if she would answer it. I fucked things up so much. 

I wiped my lip and pushed myself off my bed, swaying as I walked to the bathroom. It wasn't that late, probably 3am, but I felt so weak and drained of sleep. Drained of happiness.

I looked in my mirror and cringed. I didn't see myself. I saw the hole that was missing. Big, dark. It was taking over my life. I saw the lack of joy in my eyes.

I was so lost, there was no way anything could ever replace that hole.

I could fill it. With alcohol, tears, or frustration, but it would all just drain back out again. Meghan fit perfectly in that hole. She was my best friend. I told her everything, spilled everything out to her, things I never told anyone else. I let her tell me everything, watched her cry as she told me some things, watched her beaming smile as she told me other things. One night changed it all. 

I stood there. Ever since it happened, I always wondered why. Some days, I'll just blame it on the alcohol, because boy did I ever drink a lot. The only thing I remember was when she slapped me. She had never hurt me like that before, which told me right then and there that she hated me. I placed my hand on my cheek, on the exact spot that her hand connected with my flesh. The last time that our skin had made contact. No matter how wrong it sounds, I would rather have her slap me again than never being able to talk to her again. 

I also think about what happened after the party, what she did when she got home. A pang of hurt rang through my body as I imagined her, sitting on her bed, ripping up all our pictures, deleting all of our conversations, throwing out all the clothes I let her have. The navy blue dress I helped pick out for her for that party crumpled on the ground.

I slid down onto the floor of my bathroom, tucking my knees up to my chest. I rested my head on the fabric of my shorts as I listened to my breathing. It was shaky, distant. I closed my eyes, letting not only thoughts, but pictures surface in my mind. As I sat there, I felt like a piece of a puzzle had been added to the box of ideas I had formed in my mind as to why I did what I did.

*Flashback*

I pulled her in for a hug, letting her frame shake under my arms. I rested my hand on the back of her head, running my fingers through her damp hair. 

"Shhhh, it's gonna be okay." I repeated over and over, as I felt her heartbeat against my chest.

"I don't want to." She cried, her voice muffled.

"Don't want to what?" I asked, moving my hand from the back of her head to her shoulder. I broke the hug slightly to see her tear stained face, and her blotchy skin. Her red eyes looked up at me. She still looked so beautiful, I hated to see her like this, the sadness woven in between her lips, traveling across the tears on her wet cheeks, up to her eyes. Her eyes, it hurt me so much to look into her eyes. I didn't know why. 

"I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to believe that." Her voice was much clearer now, which made me feel a little more tense. It seemed like she was all of a sudden so passionate as to what she was saying.