He let out a heavy sigh and took a few steps back to sit on the back of the toilet seat. "I don't think I'm in love with Selena anymore."

      My eyebrows furrowed in confusion; both at his statement and at my unexpected relief. "Why are you crying, then?"

      He laughed another dry, angry laugh and threw his hands up. "I don't know! I just—I don't know what to do. It feels like something's wrong."

      "Obviously," I deadpanned, a small smile on my face in attempt to lighten the mood. "You're crying."

      That obviously didn't work.

      He shook his head before placing it back in his hands. "I'm so used to being in love with her that it feels like something's wrong—missing, I guess I should say—now that I'm not. I want to feel what I used to, and maybe I do, I just don't know. I've never been so unsure about anything in my life."

      "That still doesn't explain why you're so upset," I noted. I went to take another step forward, but stopped myself. Last time, that didn't end so well.

"I don't know!" he yelled, then winced when he realized how loud he'd been. "I don't want to not be in love with her. It feels so right and good and natural—it's unnatural that I'm not!" He thew his head black with a short bark of a laugh and shook his head. "I've been in love with her for so long. All my childhood, since before I could remember, she was the one thing on my mind until she left. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel when I don't feel something for her!"

      I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I felt bad for him, but I didn't know what he felt or how to help him. "Ryder—"

      "It's not just that, either. There's that void feeling, yes, and that feeling like I don't know what to do now. But, that's not even the best part!"

      He stood abruptly and I stumbled back with a start. He seemed almost angry now, the sadness temporarily smothered. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but still found myself asking, "What is?"

      He took a slow step closer. "You."

      "What about me?" I took a tense step back from where I'd been standing in the middle of the large bathroom, back towards the door. I was now acutely aware that I shut it behind me on my way in.

      "You infuriate me, first off." He took another step closer, this one slightly more confident than the last.

      "Do I?" My heart started to thud in my chest as I glanced back at the closed door before inching that way. I didn't have much room left.

      "You do," he confirmed. Another step this time, along with a finger jabbed in my direction. "I've always been so in control of everything in my life, then here you come along, mixing things up."

      My heart was thudding so fast I could hear it in my ears, but I wasn't sure whether it was from adrenaline, the close proximity as we continued our ways tensely to the door, or the frustration bubbling to the surface. I was getting angry, myself. How could he be the way he was with me last night and his morning, then turn around and start blaming me for his own problems? "How did I 'mix things up'? I didn't do anything!"

      "Bullshit." Another step. "Ever since you showed up, everything's been different."

      "How is that my fault—"

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