❝ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛs ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ
ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ, ғᴏʀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏʀ
ᴡᴏʀsᴇ. ɪᴛ ɪs ᴀ ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴏɪʀ ᴏғ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs
ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ
sᴍᴀʟʟᴇsᴛ ᴛᴏᴋᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ❞
~~~
🇬 🇦 🇧 🇷 🇮 🇪 🇱 🇱 🇦 :
It's been two days since I admitted my true feelings for Hunter—to myself, of course—and the guilt has been gnawing at my insides ever since. As if it were karma taking her toll on my sanity, I've started to see Aurora everywhere. I've started to smell the floral scent of gardenias in every place I reside.
What's worse is that I know it's all in my head, but my body can't seem to tell the difference. Panic attacks have become a common occurrence, and I'm slowly getting sick of not being able to breathe.
And, Hunter, my sweet, darling Hunter, has been glued to my side through all of it. Coaxing me with breathing methods and carrying asthma pumps as if he were the one with asthma.
I truly don't deserve him, and yet, like how I'd done with every man in my life, I hold onto him for dear life and hope he doesn't turn on me, stab me in the back, or better yet, break my heart.
My biggest fear is that I might break his in turn.
A presence lifts my attention from my sketchbook. My eyes drift up his lean, slightly muscular build, settling on those honey eyes of his. I morph my features into indifference when that's far from what I truly feel. Far from what I truly feel for him. Feelings I wish I could forget.
He frowns upon seeing me, and something strikes my heart. Sharp and unbearably painful. I stifle a wince. “Have you seen Hunter? I need to talk to him.”
“He's probably in his room.” I say with a calmness I don't feel. He turns to leave, and before I can stop myself, his name slips out of my mouth. He freezes, his back to me.
“Please don't speak further,” he mutters in a strained tone.
“Why?” I'm on my feet in seconds, inching closer to him. As if he can feel me, or probably, hear me, he takes a step forward with each step I take toward him.
“Because,” His voice shakes slightly, sending an unpleasant feeling to my heart. My chest tightens. “If I keep hearing your voice, I might do something I'll regret.”
I take another step toward him, and he takes another step away from me, not bothering to face me. “Can I at least—”
“No.”
“I don't understand—”
“There was never anything to understand, Gabriella. I left. You moved on. It is what it is.” It's stupid how him calling me by my name and not the nickname he'd given affects me. How it rips a wound I didn't know I had, open. To bleed out and leave me to a slow, painful death.
“How do you know I've moved on?” I try to sound angry, but all it comes out as is weak and sad. Pathetic. He turns then abruptly. Rage drowning the honey of his eyes.
“How do I know? How about the way you look at him? Your eyes sparkle as if they were replaced by stars. Your cheeks flush a beautiful shade of crimson. And you've smiled so many times in the past two weeks I've been here that it makes me sick. Sick because it's not me who makes you look like that. Feel like that.
It makes me sick knowing I had to leave you. Knowing I was the cause of you having to move on. Knowing I deserve everything you say to me, every nasty comment, every distasteful glance. I deserve all of it because I don't deserve you. I never fucking have.”
“You're missing one thing.” I say, barely audibly, and yet he hears anyway.
“Enlighten me then,”
I take a tentative step forward, and this time, he doesn't step back. He keeps his ground, staring into my soul, as if trying to pluck out my lies from my truths.
“Just because I moved on, and have fallen in love with someone other than you, doesn't mean I've stopped loving you. In fact, I've never stopped, and I don't think I'm capable of stopping.
You're woven into the very marrow of my bones, and the only way you'll ever come out is if you pry yourself out, bleeding me dry. I'm not letting you go that easily, Kaz. If you go, I go. That was our promise, our oath.”
I might be mistaken, but I witness his features soften, only to be hardened again in a matter of seconds.
“I'm not asking you, Gabriella. I'm telling you. Forget me. It's better this way. Move on completely. Let me go.”
“So you can what? Ruin yourself working for my father?” Again, my voice comes out shaky. I hate how affected I am by him.
“It's better this way.” He grits out.
“Better for who?!” I yell at him.
“Because it's clearly not better for me. Is it better for you? Is your heart not breaking like mine as you say those words? As you tell me to move on? You can't stand here and tell me you don't feel anything saying these things to me!”
I take a step back, desperately wanting this conversation to end. Desperately wanting the past ten years to be a dream. Who am I kidding? A fucking nightmare.
“What did my father do to you in the past six years that made you want to be this… monster? This is not the person I fell in love with all those years ago. And I know deep down you know that too.”
His jaw clenches, and he blinks his eyes rapidly, looking away from me. A clear sign of him holding back tears. If I witness him shed a tear, I might lose all the sanity I have left. In the fifteen years of knowing him, he's never cried once in front of me. I'd joked, saying he might be a robot when we were younger, but I'm not sure if that's a joke anymore.
The only logical reason he could ever willingly want to do something for my father is if he were being controlled. By what, I'm not so sure. But I'm willing to risk it all to find out what Elijah has on him.
“Kaz,” I say softly, taking a step toward him. He takes multiple back.
“It's best for both of us if we stay far away from each other.” He turns and heads in the direction of Hunter's room without another word.
YOU ARE READING
The Heart Wants What It Wants
Teen Fiction❝ She wanted a fresh start, He wanted normalcy, But their past had other plans. ❞ ~~~ For the majority of her life, Gabriella had to endure all the things a child should never have to experience. After nearly two years of planning to start afresh...
