They keep telling me that I should just let her go, let that night rest and move on with my life.
They don't realise that I still wake up in the middle of the night, sobbing for Chance and sobbing for myself and sobbing for the fucked-up world with...
Greene's intentions for getting me back into school life are working, but fuck me. My classes are so boring without Chance's relief in our shared study periods or our shared lessons.
At least I have Max. Thank fuck for Max.
He constantly checks on me throughout the day after the incident with Lilia Engel in the performance hall, but thankfully he doesn't ask me if I'm okay. Instead, he just keeps an eye on me like the good friend he is.
We're sat in physics class, and our teacher is going on about black holes. How there's no time or space within them. How we have no idea what they really look like inside.
Chance would roll her eyes at this; why does it matter what's going on in space? Why does it matter what's going on up there when there's already so much going on down here?
Chance would be too preoccupied with the state of women and their lack of education in third-world countries. She'd be too busy trying to save others, instead of thinking about the 'stupid black void' of space, as she used to call it.
A sharp pain pierces my finger, and, frowning, I look down to see that I'm digging my pen into my skin again. It doesn't hurt as much as it should when the blood starts dribbling down my finger, gathering in the crook of my hand.
"Rory..." Max speaks, but he feels so, so far away. Like I can't reach him. Like me chasing after Chance is pushing him away from me
A few blurred seconds later and Max has got me out in the hallway, trying to get me to calm down. But it's not working; my breathing is getting shallower and more ragged by the second.
"Rory, you have to chill out." Max grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard.
I clutch onto his forearms, gritting my teeth as I try to will air back into my body. But it's like I don't think I deserve it; like I don't think I deserve to be happy or alive without Chance. Like my existence depends entirely upon hers.
Dropping down to the ground, my fists make contact with the hard floor — the pain making me blink. Making me somehow remember my will to live.
I let out a shaky breath and breathe in a strong one. Slowing down my heart rate so my recovering body can catch up to my racing brain. Running my hands through my slightly sweaty hair, I lean back against the wall.
Instead of asking me if I'm okay, which I'm clearly not, Max sits down beside me in the hallway — watching me as I pant and shake my head.
Why the fuck can't I stay in one piece without her? Why the fuck am I so dependent on her?
"Wanna go skating tonight?" Max asks like it's any other after-class conversation. Though he's not pretending I didn't just break down, he's also not making a huge deal out of it either.
"Sure." I nod, grateful for both his friendship and how he deals with my 'situations'.
I've had not one, but two situations in the past couple of days, and both times Max has helped me through them.
Thank fuck for Max.
Biting my lower lip, I mull the words over in my head before speaking, "I think I'm ready to talk about Chance. Tonight. To you."
"That means a lot to me, Rory." He smiles at me softly, before rushing out, "That you trust me that much, I mean..."
"Maybe Greene's right," I sigh a little, "Maybe I do need to talk about it before I can heal."
Max shrugs. "Maybe."
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