weak; mcduke

breakdown

breakdown (n)- a sudden collapse in someone's mental health.

8th grade / duke's pov

It was the middle of my eighth-grade year when I'd witnessed Heather McNamara have a breakdown. It was that day when she'd shared with me the extent of her fragile mind. I knew I wouldn't hate her for being that weak. She didn't deserve hate.

We were sitting at the lunch table with Chandler and the semi-popular crowd as per usual. I was picking on a bag of potato chips that I'd purchased for my meal. Chandler was preoccupied with texting on her phone under the table. Ram was attempting to flirt with McNamara who rejected him on a repeated basis. I stared at my dark green-painted nails and felt a thunk on the seat next to me. I raised my head. My face fell into a nonchalant expression before I met the person's gaze.

It was Ram. He flashed me a grin.

"Hey, Heather... how's it going?" he asked, flinging an arm around my shoulders. I let my popularity-developed instinct do the work.

"Fine." My reply was curt, but in a slightly suggestive way. I felt him tense up. He wasn't going to get what he wanted, though. That f*cktard didn't even bother to say anything else as I felt his hand snake toward my butt. Sure, he was McNamara's boyfriend, but it didn't work that way. Any jocks basically took who they could get in terms of us Heathers, and we didn't bother to get possessive over our boyfriends.

I reached back and gently intertwined my fingers with his. His hand stopped before it could get further. I then grabbed the skin of his palm and pinched.

"Ow!" he growled, pulling away. I flashed a smile at him and went back to eating. When I cast a sideways glance at Heather to see if she even noticed her boyfriend flirting around with me. Her face was deathly pale and her hands were shaking as she stared at the ground. Nobody around me seemed to notice. I got the sense that something was wrong with her. I felt a flash of panic so I scooted over next to her. I set my chip bag down.

"Heather, you need to use the bathroom or something?" I mumbled to her. She didn't reply. Now I was positive she wasn't okay for whatever reason. I did a quick check on Chandler, who was still fixed on her phone, texting away. The coast was clear. Reaching under the table, I took hold of Heather's tiny wrist.

"Let's go," I whispered to her. She nodded once. She let me help her up and to the girls bathroom.

As the wooden door slammed shut behind us, I did a quick scan for anyone in the bathroom. Empty. Heather pulled from my grasp and shuffled stiffly to the sink. She hunched over, pressing both of her palms to the sides of it. I stayed fixed to my spot. After a minute I noticed she was shaking and murmuring in a frantic yet inaudible tone. I approached her slowly and peered to look at her face.

Tears slid down her cheeks. She wore an expression of stark sadness, nothing like the Heather I'd known. She was shaking uncontrollably and her breathing came in quickened gasps.

// mcnamara's pov

My porcelain face I wore was breaking again. This time it was in front of Duke. I never, ever wanted her to see me like this. I knew she'd never tell a soul... but she'd probably hate me. I didn't want her to hate me. I cared about her. I loved her.

Everything I heard sounded muted, like I was underwater. My heart pounded in my ears and in my head. My stomach was clenched; my whole body was rigid. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I couldn't handle it. I. Couldn't. Handle. It.

I could hear a distant Heather next to me. "Heather! Holy f*ck... Heather, talk to me..." she kept repeating. I felt her grab my arm, turning me to face her. I stared down at her shoes.

"Heather, what's wrong?" she asked a few times. My jaw trembled. Another wave of hysteria slammed over me. I fell to my knees, shoving my hands over my face. Heather sat down with me, grabbing both of my arms. I felt her pull me into a hug.

// duke's pov

As soon as I resorted to hugging her, she began to talk. She spluttered and choked and cried out the words, but I listened. What else could I do?

"Why do I have to live... can't take this... mask breaking... nobody can know... I want... someone who cares..." Her body was racked with violent sobs. Her head was buried on my shoulder. I clung onto her back, afraid to let her go. I could feel a wet spot on my blazer (the one Chandler convinced Heather and I to wear) from where her tears were landing.

"Heather... it's alright.." I did my best to keep my tone from wavering. I hugged her tighter. She relaxed a bit in my arms.

"God... can't do this... breathe..." The muffled sounds of her mumbling were still present. I hadn't even realized I was stroking her hair.

Finally her shaking turned to a slight trembling. She was still crying, but not as violently. Heather gently pulled from me and reached into the tiny purse she'd set on the floor. She pulled out a bright orange pill bottle and pulled off the cap. Well, tried to.

"Stupid childproof caps," she muttered. I took the bottle from her and popped off the cap. She downed a single pill without taking a drink. I gave a questioning look.

"Antidepressants," she said quietly. I nodded. Did she have some mental disorder? She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve and eyed me. Her apprehension was plain as day.

// mcnamara's pov

I waited for her to ask what the h*ll that was. Stare at me in disgust. I was a freak. She was better than hanging out with a freak.

"Are you okay?" Those were the first words to leave her lips. It sounded soft. A side I rarely saw of her, unless we were alone together. But different.

She wasn't judging me. She was worried about me. The thought made my heart race. A flurry of emotions swirled around my brain. My limbs worked on their own accord, and before I could register what was happening, I was kissing Heather. A billion sirens went off in my head. I swore they were so loud she could probably hear them, too. But she kissed me back. The sirens went quiet. Sparks flashed behind my closed eyes. It felt way different than kissing Ram. Our lips were locked for a few more moments before we both had to breathe.

// duke's pov

Holy motherf*cking christ. Heather kissed me. Her lips had met with mine. I was met with a profound happiness and feeling mildly sore in areas I shouldn't have. My eyes were wide as I stared at her beautiful face, which was painted with open-mouthed shock. I was so dead.

"I love you, Heather," she blurted out before I could speak.

We were officially a secret couple by the next day.