Changed {Martin Garrix Fanfiction}

Chapter 30

"Because I care about you," I say maybe a little too quickly. His face softens, as does his eyes, signalling something has changed inside of him. I just admitted to him that I care about him, again. It terrifies me because deep in my body, I have a feeling he doesn't care at all. 

He breathes out heavily, regaining my attention. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of," he pauses looking away from me. "It seems like everything I've done has had ripple effects and they're still going on, to this very damn day," he sounds exhausted as he stops again. I say nothing and he continues. "I already have so much pressure on me and when I have people reminding me of it everyday, it's unbearable," he runs a hand through his hair, glancing back to me. 

I am speechless for a moment, but I find my voice again. "You can tell me what's happened," I offer, but I have a feeling he won't say anything. 

"It's not that easy Mads," he presses his eyes together tightly, his fingers touching his eyelids. "No one understands," his head begins to shake lightly. 

"Why won't you let anyone in?" the words come out like wildfire and I instantly regret them. His eyes open with a jolt, his mouth pressing into a hard line. 

"Fuck, that's not easy either," he says roughly, looking away from me again. "You wouldn't understand, it's so much to deal with," his tone calms again.

As I watch his eyes move around randomly, I begin to feel frustrated. I'm frustrated that he's acting like this. And I'm frustrated because I feel like I am in the dark with him. Even though it is out of my nature, my hands grab the sides of his face and force him to look at me. He seems shocked at first but he relaxes once his gaze meets mine. 

"Then let me in," a small lump forms in my throat from my words. Never have I ever been this brave with a guy. I am slightly scared at how he might react, but I brace for the worst.

His eyes carry a storm, staring into mine intently. As his forehead is slightly creased, I know he is thinking too hard about something. He almost looks conflicted. When he does not say anything, I feel like an even bigger idiot. I'm offering to help him, yet he won't say anything. 

"Martin," I say quietly. "I'd help you if you would let me," I feel my stomach turning, not sure if I am saying the correct things. 

"Like I said," he grabs my hands from his face and holds on to them. "It's not that easy and I don't want to drag you through hell," he breathes out in one sentence. I know his intentions are good, but I feel like there is a huge wall he has put up whilst mine is crumbling everyday. 

"Can you at least tell me that you're okay?" I say and his eyes narrow but quickly relax. As I say this, he intertwines our right hands together. 

"I'm fine," I swear I hear shakiness in his voice but I choose to ignore it and believe his words. He seems so vulnerable, but there is still an intimidating stature about him. "You seem to worry to much," he says while clearing his throat. He sounds normal again. 

"I can't help it," I fight back. The worrier definitely lives inside of me. He gives me an uncertain look.