Move Back or Move On

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"Fuck, Spence. Fucking hell. That hurts."

"I'm sorry. You know I have to change your bandages," he replied with a small smile.

"Doesn't make it hurt any less," I snapped.

He let out a quiet chuckle, running his thumb across my cheekbone.

"You know you don't have to come to my apartment everyday," I told him.

"I know," he replied.

"We aren't dating anymore, Spence. You do remember that, right?"

I thought back to the fights we had been having lately; screaming at three in the morning towards each other, slamming doors, me moving back into my own apartment. We were falling apart. I decided to take a break from our dying relationship. It had been tainted by my 'father,' and we didn't know how to fix it.

We were quiet for many moments, Fang snoring in the other room. I looked at Spencer, who let out a large sigh.

"This is too difficult for me."

"What?"

"You heard me. I still love you and I will do anything to get you back," Spence explained.

"Spencer," I started, "I will always be here... but we just need a break right now."

"I know, but it's been almost a month. I miss you all the time," he said quietly.

I went to answer, but my phone began to ring. It was Ariel.

"This is important, Spence. Can we talk later?" I asked.

He nodded and left my apartment quickly. I answered the phone.

"Hi Ariel," I said.

"Hey! I'm coming over with Greek food so I'll be there in ten. How are things with your lovely neighbourino?" she replied.

"He came over and fixed my bandages-"

"Again? Move back or move on, Jess. It's not fair," she sighed, cutting me off.

"I'll see you when you get here," I replied.

"Okay. See you soon. Love you."

"Love you, too."

I hung up and got my hidden bottle of whiskey, taking a large swig. I felt as if someone was flowing heaven down my throat. I sighed, looking at the framed picture on the coffee table. I found my heart shattering slowly, like a child having fun breaking the glass of a old mirror. Sometimes the pain would be small or nonexistent, then suddenly I would feel the pain sitting in my stomach like a fire with recently kicked coals.

"Move back or move on, Jess," more alcohol burned my throat,

"Move back or move on."

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