Changed {Martin Garrix Fanfiction}

Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty Six - Stop Blaming Yourself

- Martin's POV -

I cannot tell you how long I just have been laying in my bed with my eyes closed. Goddamn jet lag. The sun came up two hours ago and I was up even before then. About thirty minutes ago, I heard noises coming from downstairs signaling that my mother was up and making breakfast.

My head hurts. The pounding sensation was part of why I did wake up. So many things are flowing through my mind; it's torture. From myself, to my father, to the worry in my mother's eyes, Nora, and... Mads.

My eyes open at the thought of her. Thinking about her is torturing me as well. I feel like such an asshole, but I had no choice but to come back. And no, there is no way in hell I would tell her why I did come back. But she deserves an explanation, my mind adds.

This isn't fair. To me. Or to her. Every time I close my eyes, her brown ones are there staring back. Should I try and talk to her? I am not too sure if those fuckers would let me, but it's worth trying. But not right now. I have to do it when I am more mentally stable. Not the mess I am right now because who knows what would come out of my mouth.

The thing is, I never planned on any of this to happen with her. I planned to mess around with her and maybe fuck her, that was it. I never planned that I was going to fall for her. I don't even like relationships so I don't know why I let myself do it. I shake my head slightly, trying to rid myself of the thoughts.

I push the duvet off of my body and slowly sit up, stretching slightly. I go to a chest of drawers I have in my room and quickly look for a pair of sweatpants. I don't bother with getting a shirt, so hesitantly, I open my door slowly making my way downstairs.

Noise comes from the kitchen and television from the living room. My feet creak the stairs so my stealth is blown. I turn the corner and see my mother looking inside the fridge. I then see my father. He is sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. Suddenly, he looks up and his eyes meet mine. My stomach drops instantly.

"Martijn," his voice is cold and too familiar. As he says this, my mother looks at me as well. "Good morning," he says, an underlying bitterness to his tone.

I stay silent and turn my head to my mom, "Morning," I greet her and she smiles slightly. My father scoffs behind of her. I tell myself to stay calm and I look around the kitchen.

"Breakfast is almost ready, watch the television until then," my mother suggests with a wave towards the living room. I nod lazily and waltz my way in there without another word.

When I sit down on the couch, I can immediately hear them begin to talk. Both of their voices are in hushed and harsh whispers. I can't make out what they are saying though. I internally groan; this is why I've always hated it here. It seems as if they argue all of the time.

I drain out my parents and focus on the TV. Suddenly, I hear my parents stop and then hear footsteps quickly coming down the stairs. Must be Laura. When the source greets my parents, my guess is correct.