So, back around Chapter 14, I stated that this fic would have 21 total chapters. Oh, look at that. It’s the 21st chapter.
Which means that, yes, this is the final chapter, as it states in the title.There’s gonna be a message at the end, so make sure you read that. THANK YOU for reading this fic!
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Chapter 21 - Traveled All These Miles Just to Get Back Home
Vic ends up at his house, having not crashed the car or anything of that nature. When I find him, he’s already asleep in his bed, expression deceivingly peaceful as his chest rises and falls. For a brief moment, I smile at the sight of it, before realizing that it’s a lie. Beneath that calm demeanor is a storm raging inside of him.
I crawl underneath the covers, resting my head against his chest, just thankful that he’s okay. Physically, at least.
For a while, I just lie awake, thinking about what happened, about Craig, about “our last kiss”. It all swirls around in my head, but eventually, my eyelids start to feel heavy, and I find myself falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
—
Vic is different in the morning, dazed and lifeless and seeming to be thinking so deeply about something that he’s disconnected from the rest of the world. I’m not surprised; after a night like that, who’d just get over it?
That doesn’t stop me from worrying, though. Of course I’m worried. I just want him to be happy, and I want to be the one to make him happy. But I don’t know how to do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.
He doesn’t really talk to me, and I try to hold back my questions. He made it clear last night that he feels he needs to figure this out on his own, so I’m trying to let him do that. But it’s so hard to watch him and not at least try to help.
At one point, at around almost noon, Vic pulls Jaime into the room next to Vic’s, saying that he needs to talk with him about something. On the one hand, I’m kind of upset that he didn’t turn to me—I’m probably involved in this somehow, judging by the things he did and said last night, and I start to worry that maybe he doesn’t trust me, though I’m not sure why he’d feel that way. But on the other hand, I kind of understand—Jaime is Vic’s best friend, and he’s known him a hell of a lot longer than he’s known me. I know I’d turn to Matty if I were having some issue with Vic and needed to talk it out with someone.
Still, I can’t help but catch bits and pieces of their conversation as I’m sitting on Vic’s bed in his room, mostly just thinking and twiddling my thumbs. I catch Vic saying things like “I’m so confused, Jaime” and “I don’t know anything anymore,” things like “I hate myself so fucking much” and “Why does it have to be so fucking hard?”
And even though I don’t know why he’s saying these things, listening to him say them gives me a physical pain in my chest. I just want him to be okay.
I lie down on my stomach on his bed, resting my head in my folded arms and closing my eyes. I’m not trying to fall asleep; I’m just resting, giving myself a little break from all the tension of the day. It doesn’t work as well as I hoped it would, but it still works somewhat, so I stay that way for a little while.
Finally, Vic comes into the room and closes the door behind him, standing at the edge of the bed and staring at me. I look up at him, sleepily blinking a few times and rubbing my eyes—I’ll admit, I have been getting tired as I’ve been lying here.
For whatever reason, the movement causes Vic’s breath to hitch ever so slightly as he watches me, some emotion I can’t figure out shining in his eyes. “We need to talk about something,” he says finally.
I sit up immediately, nodding. “Sure,” I say quickly. “You can tell me anything.”
For a moment, Vic just keeps staring at me. Then he covers his face with his hands, lightly rubbing at his eyes, before looking back at me and saying, “Kellin…I don’t think I ever really loved you.”
The words, once they sink in, hit me like a train barreling down a railroad track.
"You…what?" I say weakly, my voice soft and shaking and scared all of a sudden, because no, this can’t be happening.
"I…I realized it last night," Vic says. "Kellin, Craig broke up with me a week before I met you. I was nowhere near over him. So when I found you…I guess I just thought…" His own voice is wavering as he continues on. "I think I tried to replace him with you. I think I…" A silent tear slips out, sliding down his cheek. "I’ve been using you. Without even fucking realizing it."
This can’t be happening.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
"And—and I like you," he continues. "I really do. But I don’t think I love you like I thought I did. While we were alone on that road trip, I took everything I felt for Craig and just threw it all at you. And that’s—that’s why I freak out every single fucking time I see him. Because I still want him, and I hate myself for it, but—but I can’t change it."
I try to grasp his words, try to make sense of what he’s saying to me, but it all feels so unreal that the best reaction I can come up with is a simple, heartbroken “You don’t love me?”
He shakes his head, taking a step closer as I sit on the bed with my shaking hands clasped together in my lap. “Kellin, I’m so sorry,” he says, tilting my head up and forcing me to look into his watery eyes. I squeeze my own eyes shut and turn my head to the side.
"I never meant for any of this to happen, I swear to God," he says softly, voice cracking. "I didn’t…I didn’t think. I never fucking think. I liked you. I thought you could help me get over him. I was so fucking stupid.”
I try so fucking hard to hold them back, but finally I open my eyes and let the tears inevitably blur my vision. I can’t look at him, can’t do anything but think about how I’m not enough, how I never was.
"You’re breaking up with me," I say. I don’t even have to ask, because I already know it’s true. Of course it is. Of course this has to happen.
He nods, sitting down next to me on the bed and watching me. I watch him back, trying not to show just how much the world feels like it has collapsed around me. I take deep breaths, blinking a lot as more hot tears roll down my cheeks. My hands are still in my lap, and I’m squeezing one with the other, biting my lip and releasing a series of wet, held-back sobs. “Vic,” I choke out.
Vic puts an arm around me, and I gladly lean into him and bury my face in his shoulder, not caring that he’s the reason I’m crying in the first place, not caring that after today I won’t have this shoulder to cry on, figuratively or literally.
"You s-said you loved m-me," I stammer out, gripping his shirt and feeling the warmth of his body, breathing in his scent because I know this is the last time I’ll ever smell it.
I feel him nod as he rubs my back in those comforting slow circles. “I know,” he whispers. “I know I did, darling.”
And that word—that stupid, wonderful, absolutely heart-wrenching word—breaks me down even more, ruthlessly beating more sobs out of me, pouring salt into the already lethal wound. I can feel it fucking me up, injecting itself right into my bloodstream and poisoning me with it. I can feel it making a home inside my heart.
"You lied," I say. "You told me you loved me and you lied to me.”
"I didn’t mean to," he says. "I believed it when I said it."
"Keep believing it," I beg, though I know it’s a lost cause. I get the courage to look up at him, and through my tears I see that he’s still crying, too. "You don’t love me," I say. "Why are you crying?"
He rests his head on my shoulder. “Because I’m sorry,” he chokes out, holding me tighter. “I don’t like to see you hurt, and I’m—I’m so sorry that I’m doing this, b-but it’s for the best if you just…just go back home and forget I ever existed. Forget everything. Let me go and never look back. I’ve been in love with someone else and I can’t keep doing this knowing that. I can’t lead you on like that.”
"I don’t want to forget you," I say softly, nearly shaking against him. "I want to…I want to stay. With you." But we both know that that can’t happen.
"Somebody didn’t put you up to this, did they?" I ask suddenly, trying to go through any possible options.
He shakes his head. “No, baby, it’s all me. I’m sorry.”
"S-should I go home now?" I say, wiping at my cheeks as I start to slow down.
He nods, eyes shining with those soft, silent tears. “I think it’d be for the best.” He reaches up and brushes a few of my own tears away.
He’s gonna fuck you up and you’re gonna let him. The words pop into my head without warning, causing me to bury my head back in Vic’s shoulder and cry a little bit more. The guy was right when he said that about Vic. He was drunk as hell and didn’t even know us, but he was right.
"He’s gonna fuck you up," I sob, repeating the guy’s words to Vic. "Craig. He’s gonna fuck you up and you’re gonna let him."
Vic’s breath hitches at that. “I know,” he says softly, and that hurts like my heart’s being ripped out of my chest. “I know.”
After a few moments, I look back up at him, letting him brush away my tears again. We just stare at each other as he holds me in his arms, but it feels like it’s only for my benefit. It feels like he could let go of me whenever he wants. I’m surprised, then, when I shift slightly and his arms tighten around me.
"I’m sorry," he says. "I just…it’s hard to say goodbye."
"Then don’t do it," I plead. "I’ll sacrifice Craig to the Devil or something. We’ll pretend he never even existed."
He laughs weakly, running a hand through my hair one last time, and then he lets go of me. I stand up shakily, unbelievingly. “So,” I say slowly, “I’d better…pack my things, I guess.”
Vic nods, still staring at me through those tearstained eyelashes. “Mm-hmm.”
I grab my shit mechanically, my mind trying to catch up to what just happened, trying to let the reality sink in: Vic has broken up with me. Vic doesn’t love me like I thought he did, like he thought he did. I’m leaving now, and I’ll never see him again.
"Okay," I say finally, when my suitcase is completely packed and I’m ready to go. "I guess I’ll just—"
"Wait," Vic says suddenly. In a flash, he’s grabbed the dream catcher from where it’s been hanging and is holding it out to me. "Take it."
I shake my head, not wanting anything that would remind me of him, but before I have a chance to say anything, he says, “Please. I know it’s just a dumb little thing and it probably doesn’t actually work, but…it is yours, technically. And you need it a hell of a lot more than I do.”
I take a deep breath and take it from him. “So,” I say quietly, “I guess…this is the end of us.”
He nods, biting his lip. “We had a pretty decent run, I think.” After a long pause, consisting of us both just staring at each other, he quirks a sad little smile and adds, “Good luck, Kells. Y’know, with that existential crisis thing you told me about in Vegas.” His voice cracks. “I hope you find something to live for.”
I hate him so much in that moment, and it’s mostly because I don’t think I hate him at all. I just hate what he’s doing to me. I hate that it’s not working out, because of course it wouldn’t. It never does.
A voice inside my head is screaming, If you don’t love me, then why is it so hard to break up with me? Why did you hold me so tightly? Why did you cry? Why do you care about what happens to me?
But I think Vic sees those questions in my expression without even needing me to open my mouth, because then he says, “I want you to stay, but I’d hate myself so fucking much if you did because I’d know that I don’t care about you like I care about him; I’ve just been thinking that I do, and I don’t want to lie to you and make it seem like you’d never be competing with anyone else because there’s still that part of me that wants him, and you deserve better than someone who isn’t loyal, and you deserve better than someone who still loves someone else instead of you or more than you, and…” He trails off there, wiping away one more stray tear. “And so this is the end of us.”
I just look at him for a few moments, taking him in, because this is the last time I’ll ever see him. Then I step forward and pull him in, kissing him sadly and softly, a kiss that signifies an ending. When I pull away, I say, “This is our last kiss.”
We both just look at each other some more, until finally, I add, “I hope your music changes someone’s life the way it changed mine. But with a happier ending.”
And then I turn around and walk out of the doorway, down the stairs, out of the house, out of his life.
I hop into my car with a strange feeling inside of me, but it seems to fade at first because I have to focus on navigating through traffic. It’s not until I’m actually on the highway and headed back to Oregon that everything starts to catch up with me.
Vic just broke up with me. I will never see him or speak to him ever again.
You’d think that thirteen hours driving alone would be enough time to get over it, at least somewhat. And you’d be wrong.
My grip on the wheel is tense, even more tears blurring my vision as I try to drive and not crash. Everything seems to flash before my eyes like a movie, everything from the moment we met to the scene I just experienced back at his house. In my mind, I’m seeing the look of concentration on his face when he plays his guitar, seeing the wonder in his eyes as they reflect the city lights that shine at him and seem to shine just for him. I’m hearing his beautiful laugh and smelling his skin, the scent I’ve memorized. I’m tasting his tongue in my mouth as it plays with mine, and I’m feeling his lips as they trail all over my body. I’m remembering the jokes, the conversations, the kisses, the tears, the clues, the secrets. Every single fucking thing.
By now, I’ve realized that the reason I felt like something was changing last night is because last night signified that I was about to wake up, that the dream was soon over. And now here it is, the end, the sudden waking up that leaves me disoriented.
And it’s all my fault, too, isn’t it?
Of course it is, because it always is. I hate myself as the thought crosses my mind, hate myself for needing something to do, hate myself for wanting this. It’s my wanderlust that led me here, and now I’m crying again as I drive back home, thinking of how fucked up everything has turned out, thinking of how it’s happening to me all over again, just like I said it would, just like I was afraid it would.
Vic. His name pounds in my head, as if it’s tattooing itself onto my brain. Vic. Vic. Vic.
I can feel something changing inside of me as I let it all out. I hate myself for crying, and in a quick moment, I’ve decided that I never want to feel this weak ever again. I can’t help but think back to what I felt last night: anger. It made me, for once, feel powerful. It made me feel like I could do some damage, instead of everything else damaging me. Yes, that’s a feeling I could get used to.
By the time I’m back in Oregon, it’s dark outside and raining heavily, and I’m trying not to think too much about all the times Vic and I have driven at night. It’s not working, though, because I can’t help but feel like Vic should be the one in the driver’s seat, not me. It feels wrong, and when I remember that Vic isn’t even here to take my place, tears threaten to make an appearance yet again. At this moment, I make a promise to myself: a promise to not take a drive past dusk unless I absolutely have to, at least for a little while.
The rain comes down even harder the closer I get, mirroring my emotions as they start to build up. I’m coming home. I’m coming home, and I’m going to sleep alone in my bed, and I’m going to wake up tomorrow like I never even left. How am I supposed to just go on with my life like nothing happened? How am I supposed to go back to the pathetic life that led me to this point in the first place? How the hell am I supposed to act like my world didn’t just get turned upside down on this crazy vacation?
"Hey, Matty," I say into my phone when I’m ten minutes away. I’m leaving a voicemail for him. "I know it’s late, but can you come over? Please? I’m almost home. Something happened."
I don’t expect him to actually come, but sure enough, his car is in the driveway when I park at my house, and there’s a light on in the living room. I still haven’t gotten a chance to ask him about what happened after the fire, where he’s living, how bad the damage was…but right now is not the time, because I am home, and Vic is gone, and I’ll never see him again, and outside there is thunder and lightning and buckets of rain, and I’m stepping outside into all of it.
I can barely make my legs move as I force myself to take a few steps forward, eventually stopping in the middle of my front yard and sinking down to the ground. The rain crashes over me as I cover my face in my hands and sob for all it’s worth. My head is spinning and my chest hurts and I feel like I’m going to throw up, but I just keep on crying, letting my body get soaked and cold. This is the last time I cry like this.
In the background, there’s the faint sound of a door slamming open, and a few seconds later, I hear Matty’s voice as he kneels down in front of me. “Hey.” He pulls my hands away from my face. “Kellin. What’s wrong?”
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I—I—”
He hugs me then, not seeming to care that he’s getting wet. It reminds me of that night in Baltimore when I got the news that he might die, and the memory just makes me cry harder. It feels like Vic has imbedded himself into my chest, into my heart, and now he’s gone and pulled himself out, and it’s leaving me bleeding to death.
"Th-thank you," I choke out, burying my face in Matty’s shoulder. I’m not just thanking him for tonight; I’m thanking him for everything. I’m thanking him for being my best friend.
"Kellin," he says softly, "what happened?"
"I…" And that’s when I realize the horrible irony of what I’m about to say. "I…I met a guy." And he was a hurricane.
But the thing about hurricanes—the thing I never realized before—is that they don’t last forever, and when they’re gone, they leave something behind. They leave behind destruction, absolute devastation, and it looks like Vic Fuentes was no exception.
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IMPORTANT NOTE:
Okay, now before you all murder me, I have an announcement to make: There will be a sequel.
I repeat.
There WILL be a sequel.
It is not over, folks. The sequel will be titled “Cataclysm”, and the first chapter should be posted by September 29th at approximately 8pm (EST). If it is not posted by that time, you have permission to come to my house with pitchforks and torches.
This is not the end. I’ll see you all soon.