"You know, you don't have to put your life on hold." Avery tells me. Sipping at his iced tea.
"It just feels wrong being here without him. I know that it's silly since I've only been on a few dates with him. Yet, I can't get my mind off of him... He's just the person who makes me happy." I tell him.
"I understand that. You can still go to the club, and the park. You've been in this apartment for way too long. You're turning into a hermit." he jokes. Trying to lighten up the mood.
"He's not happy. I could feel it, so I don't have the right to be happy. It isn't fair to him." I whisper.
"you are first. You shouldn't be dealing with this the way it is. I understand that you like the guy, but he most likely wouldn't want to see you this way." he explains. I look up at him with a frown on my face.
"How else am I supposed to be handling this? should I be out clubbing? making out with strangers? we both know that that's not me." I huff. Crossing my arms. I feel like a teenager all over again. The angst filling my body.
"Your parents have no hold over you here Q. So, you should be outside, feeling the freedom you have for the first time. "
"You saw what he wrote. He called himself a monster. He's not Avery. If I were there I'd-" he interrupts me.
"He wouldn't allow you to be there Q. He's too prideful." he tells me. His eyebrows knitting together. I flinch. Not liking the way he's speaking about him.
"you were raised as brothers. Why don't you like him Avery?" I ask, confused by the way he's acting.
"My mother loved those boys like they were her own. Jack... pushed his feelings of remorse from his brother onto me. He treated me like he did because he fucked up his relationship with Walker. I was a replacement. That's not the best feeling. You should know the feeling of being unloved." his words cause me to flinch.
Isn't that everyone's fear? to be unloved? forgotten and shoved aside. Pity fills my stomach as his words sink in.
Avery has always been strong. He's gotten through a lot of sadness. Now, I don't see the strong boy who picked me up after I broke my arm. No, he was a broken boy who felt replaced. Who felt second best.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sure your mother loves you, she looks at you like you are her life." I console.
"She may love me, but she loves them more. The soldier and the CEO. Instead of them, she got a fuck up who enjoys causing himself pain." he says sharply. Pain gripping onto every single word he utters.
"Avery stop. Stop." I tell him. Grabbing onto his hand that wasn't holding onto the glass. He looks away from me.
"Go out and live your life because you have somebody out there who loves you, for you. A lot of people aren't lucky enough to get that in life." he whispers. tears filling his blue eyes. Usually they're filled with mischief and hope. Now, I see raw anger and hurt. Something he usually tries so hard to conceal.
" I love you Avery." I whisper. Saddened by my distraught bestfriend.
" I love you too Q." he says. squeezing my hand in reassurance.
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Walker's P.O.V
once in a lifetime, you meet a person who has gone through similar things as you. Sure you meet people who you have crossed paths with. Yet, everybody handles things differently.
Most get up, dust themselves off and continue on with their lives. There's always someone like me, who doesn't fit in with society. Tainted by their past, unable to move forward.
I never expected to meet that person. Yet, here I am. Miles away from said person, thinking about the way his eyes crinkle up when he laughs. He drives me insane, even with the distance between us.
He's so pure, yet he understands my sadness. He copes with things the same way as I do. Shoving them back into the recess of your mind, waiting for the ticking to stop, and the explosion to happen. I've been waiting since I was first touched, defiled, and abused for this bomb to go off.
I finally feel some peace. I could look at my surroundings, and not feel the fear of finding my father. hiding, waiting for my guard to fall.
They haven't established when I have developed PTSD. It could have been before I was sent out to the trenches of war, or it could have been the day after I was abused for the first time.
When I used to stare at myself in the mirror for hours. Looking at the marks that his hands had left. Marring my perfect pale skin. Wishing that I was normal.
Something that I still do. Yet now, the bruises are just in my head.