A BROKEN HEART is defined as a feeling of great sadness, especially when someone you love dies or does not love you. It's a metaphor, symbolic and parallel to some wretched people. Some say you can die from a broken heart. It's like a shadow in the way it's dark and often referred to as carrying the burden of negative emotions, never leaving and always attached. It causes feelings of distress, and grief, and despondency. It causes pain.
Evelyn Bradshaw did not love many people. While yes, she loved the idea of it, she held the strong feeling close and remained wary. Like a glass she was too scared would break. She loved her mum. She loved Leona. She loved George. And maybe, even, yes, she loved Arthur, but then? Now? Did she really love a man that couldn't even kiss her? Did she really love a man that didn't love her back?
It had been two days. Two long, dreadful days since that one text had been sent through. A text. The text. How can such a harmless, little thing cause such destruction?
Evelyn didn't know if she had a broken heart. She found herself sitting on the couch in her apartment hour by hour, contemplating all the decisions over the past few months that had led to the night two days ago. The night. Just one night and everything went wrong. Everything crumbled entirely, all because of one moment. One miscommunicated moment.
Was being drunk an excuse? Did alcohol have that much affect that it blinded every emotion and thought? Evelyn didn't know - she'd never know. Not if she kept up what she'd been doing, sitting, alone, on her couch, day by day.
Leona had called, George had called, even Theo had called. While not everyone knew about what had happened, some got the idea, since neither Arthur or Evelyn had been as consistent on their social media accounts as they usually were. Even fans were noticing, the blonde getting numerous messages from concerned people across the country. For whatever reason, she couldn't bring herself to respond.
Was she okay? Was anything okay? She hated it, all of it. She was drained and exhausted. Everything hit her ten times harder than normal. Why, she asked herself over and over while she stared at her blank tv, does he have such an affect. She tried to ignore it. She tried to summon up strength to just do something, but her pride and overall self had been damaged. She'd let herself think, for just a moment, that everything would be okay. That, yes, Arthur did like her, maybe even love her, as their lips melted in place. But then, as soon as it started, it was over. Everything was over.
Whenever Evelyn was in a bad mental space, or felt overwhelmingly sad, she found herself to spiral. One thought led to another, and then another, and then another. Did the text mean she'd never see Arthur again? Did that mean she'd never see any of his friends again? Their friends. Would she ever see George? Would she lose her fanbase? Would she lose everything? And then she'd manipulate herself into thinking she already had.
When she finally felt enough courage to push herself into work the following morning, bright and early at two o'clock, she'd found herself slacking. She hadn't slept. She'd been so distraught that even sleep scared her. She was scared a dream might feel so real, so happy, that she'd wake up thinking it actually happened, and then the text would appear within her mind and hit her five times harder than the last. So, she chose to use her time productively rather than drowning in her anxious thoughts.
She was slower than she usually was. It took her twenty extra minutes to prepare the mixtures, and an additional hour to clean up, all because of the music. She had her songs blasting, allowing the lyrics to seep over her in an attempt to override her screaming brain. It was a mistake, she would repeat in her head, I was drunk. She thought she'd clicked a playlist without any memories attached. Nothing. But she was wrong.
As soon as the familiar kick of the drums sounded through the speaker, and the gradual flick of the guitar strings, she stopped. She froze, halfway through placing chocolate chips on her cookies, because she knew that beat. She remembered it, and suddenly, it was three weeks ago.
She was standing in her bakery with Fleetwood Mac's Sisters of the Moon playing in the background. Arthur walked in and she looked up, struck with surprise. His words were a blur, a fuzzy outline of what he'd once said. She only stared as he communicated with what looked like himself, laughing at something she'd probably said at the time. Then the thoughts, her thoughts, came rolling in like a thunderstorm. Lightning struck before the thunder, carrying the information that would once become a burden of the blonde realising she loved the man. Evelyn loved Arthur, but he didn't love her, and then she was back.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, missing the tray of cookies by an inch. Well, the people, they love her, Stevie Nicks sang. And still they are the most cruel. The Bradshaw woman couldn't take it, to the point where she ran over to her phone and hurriedly skipped the song. Fleetwood Mac was quickly replaced.
It was silent for a moment or two as Evelyn looked up to the ceiling and walked back over to her creations. She sniffed, letting the tears pooling in her waterline fall back into the space behind her flickering eyes, preparing for another moment of disaster, because apparently, she chose the wrong playlist.
Wicked Game by Chris Isaak began to play, the soft strumming filling the entirety of the room. That time Evelyn didn't stop it, only succumbing to the feelings that arose from the lyrical melody. She stopped moving, stopped placing individual chips onto her cookies. She just stood there, hands gripping the edge of the bench, and listened.
I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you, and I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you. Evelyn turned around with a sigh, pushing her back up against the steel benchtop. She closed her eyes, humming to the tune as she tilted her head to the side. Words surrounded her. Sentences flooded her brain. She couldn't help but let another tear tumble to the unsteady ground beneath her.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.
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ARTHUR WAS LOST. He didn't know what to say, what do do, or how to feel. Guilt ate him alive every second he looked back at his phone, his imagination forming a reaction he could only hope Evelyn never had. Pain, tears, sadness. While he never wanted to see the blonde upset, and definitely never wanted to be the cause of it, he couldn't bring himself to take the text back. To delete it and move on like it never existed, just so he could kiss her again. He would give anything, everything, to go back to that moment at midnight on the balcony to fix it. Alas, he was still Arthur, who had little to no bravery in him in regards to the blonde that would forever plague his mind.
The night Evelyn had struggled to sleep, Arthur had found himself in the same boat. It led to him forcing himself into the gaming chair within his small room, the computer screens before him taunting his seemingly-pathetic self. He'd looked at himself in the mirror and called himself an idiot, or stupid, or dumb, countlessly. He'd gotten sick of it, but couldn't seem to stop.
He clicked the button to go live on Twitch before he could convince himself to do otherwise. Immediately, people started flooding in. He plastered on a smile and greeted them all gratefully, eyes brightening in the artificial light. He found himself watching the names of the new viewers, hoping with everything he had left that her name would pop up, but it never appeared. He knew if she watched she'd be able to see straight through his convincing façade. He sighed and averted his eyes.
He read through the live comments, seeing her name be mentioned time and time again. He bit his tongue, telling himself to ignore them. Don't let her name affect you, he told himself, ignore it. And so he did, but the chat was quick to take notice.
Comments like why is he ignoring us and is it bc of evelyn appeared one after the other, flooding the guilty man's peripheral vision with words he never wanted to see. "Hold on, chat. I'll be back in a sec." Arthur peeled the headphones away from his thrumming skull and placed them gently on the desk, swiftly pushing himself up and out of frame. He opened the bedroom door and walked out for the fifth time since he'd sent the text, closing it behind him.
He turned to face the door, pushing his back against the wall behind him. He ran his hands stressfully through his hair, letting a breath pass through his twitching lips. He looked up at the roof, thoughts racing wildly - to quick to be caught. Don't say anything, he whispered beneath his breath. He didn't want to ruin anything, but then again, what was there left to ruin?
LANI SPEAKS!
hey guys! how are you feeling?
I know the last two chapters, this one included, have been quite upsetting, but i had to, just to keep the interest and plot going! But do not worry, I have the entire book planned out, and I can say that this is not the end for little arthur and evie.
I'm so proud of the last two chapters as well, in terms of writing! Sorry for leaving you all on edge though! Got a bit busy x
Anyway, have a good rest of your day! Love you all <3