Break
gerund or present participle: breaking
1. separate or cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock, or a strain.
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Someone was banging loudly on my window. I rolled over, groaning, unable to see through the mess that was my hair. I pushed it away to see a grinning Michael outside my window. I groaned again, throwing my pillow at him, even though all it did was hit the window and bounce off.
"Morning," Michael shouted, the sound muffled by the window. He continued to knock on my window until I got up to open it for him. "You're not ready."
"No, I've been sleeping," I groaned, pointing at my bed.
"I really like what you've done with your hair. Suits you," Michael told me sarcastically, looking at my messy hair.
"Shut up." I smiled, hitting him in the gut playfully. I walked over to my closet, putting on the first thing I found, which was a red flannel. I decided to just wear the pants I'd fallen asleep in, so Michael didn't have to wait in the hall for me again. "Wait, where are we going?"
"You forgot?" Michael smirked.
"Forgot what?"
"We're going out for breakfast, duh." Michael smiled, sitting on my bed.
"When did we plan that?" I asked, pulling the flannel over my shirt.
"I planned it five minutes ago when I woke up, I can't believe you forgot. Jeez, Sophie," Michael muttered sarcastically.
I laughed. "You're a dork."
"Where do you want to go eat?" Michael asked, getting up off my bed.
"I don't know, where did we plan?" I asked sarcastically, struggling to put my hair up in a ponytail. Michael glared jokingly at me, doing a fake laugh.
We left my room, walking down the stairs to my front door. We cut across my lawn to Michael's house, getting in his so-old-I-can't-believe-it-actually-still-works car. We were halfway downtown, by the time I realized what I had forgotten.
"Oh shit, I left my phone," I groaned, hoping nothing important happened that someone would need to tell me.
"I can turn back if you want," Michael told me, looking over his shoulder for a place to turn.
"No, it's okay." I wasn't particularly worried any one would try to get a hold of me at frigging 8:05 am on a Saturday.
We drove a bit longer. Michael had turned on the radio and had begun to sing along. I just listened, I liked to listen to Michael sing. He never sang that much in public, but he would always sing for me.
Michael parked outside The Buttermilk Café, getting out of the car and moving around to my side to open my door for me. He bowed slightly, lifting out his hand in the direction of the restaurant, imitating a butler. The restaurant wasn't as packed as it usually was on the weekend, but Michael sat down at a booth in the back anyway. We had a habit of sitting further away from other people.
"So, why are we out for breakfast?" I asked, looking at the menu.
"Am I not allowed to take you out to breakfast?" Michael asked jokingly. "I was pretty sure, that you really liked people giving you food."
"Shut up." I laughed, flipping the page as I looked for something.
The meals all had fancy names and I couldn't figure out what anything was. We spent most of the time, making fun of the fancy names and renaming the dishes. We stopped laughing when the waitress came to our table, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Little early for a date, don't you think?" She asked, pulling out her notepad. I didn't understand what she was implying.
"It's a bit early for anything," I answered. I was still tired from being awoken by Michael banging on the window.
"This isn't a date," Michael clarified as I finally understood, going redder than his dyed hair. The waitress mumbled something that I didn't catch before asking us what we wanted.
"I'll have the flattened pancakes," Michael told the waitress. She put her hands on her hips, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.
"The what?" She asked him, as I clued in to what he had said. I kicked him under the table, trying to get him to clue in as well. He glared at me, still not understanding what he had said wrong.
"He means this," I told the waitress for him, pointing at my menu to show her. She nodded, frowning at Michael for calling their crêpes 'flattened pancakes'. I ordered as well, making sure to use the real names instead of the names Michael and I had given the dishes.
"Why did you kick me?" Michael asked me the moment the waitress walked away.
"Because you're an idiot," I told him.
We waited for a while for our food to come, the waitress scoffing when she handed Michael his 'flattened pancakes'. We didn't talk that much, eating our food in silence for a while. All you could hear was the scratching of forks on plates.
"So, what are you doing today?" I asked, trying to fill the silence.
"I'm going to Ashton's house later," He said between mouthfuls.
"Who?"
"Do you know any of my friends?" Michael asked me, raising his eyebrow at me.
"Well, there's me," I counted on my finger, "...and that's about all I know."
"Rude." He laughed, turning back to his plate.
I knew that he'd met a couple guys from one of his classes in school, but I had never actually seen them. Apparently they wanted to make covers on YouTube together, but I didn't think that would go anywhere.
"What are you doing?" Michael asked me.
"What?"
"Today. What are you doing today?" He clarified as I nodded.
"Well, my plan was to sleep, but that didn't end up happening," I told him sarcastically as he grinned at me, "I might call Dawn and see what she's doing."
I felt for my phone in my pocket, but remembered forgetting it at my house. I would call her when I got back then.
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The boy and girl who had been sitting down in the back booth for most of the morning, finally got up. Their waitress met the boy at the cash register, as the girl headed the other way towards the bathroom. The boy with the bright red hair sat down after paying on a small bench, waiting patiently for the girl.
He sat still on the bench, as the waitress watched him from over the counter. He stared at the wall across from him with a stone cold expression. The girl returned from the bathroom and the boy turned to look at her, the stone cold expression warming into a bright smile as his eyes lit up instantaneously. He didn't see the knowing smile that the waitress gave him as she watched him, he only saw his best friend.
The two of them got in the car, beginning to drive home. The boy serenading her with the song playing on the radio before he dropped her off at her house. She opened the door, turning to wave at him. She couldn't see him smile in return as he drove off towards his friend's house.
She walked up the stairs to her room, flopping down on her bed in exhaustion. Her parents weren't home yet, but she was still too tired from the night before to raid her kitchen. She didn't notice her phone still lying on her desk with the unread message waiting for her, until it beeped to aware her of a text she'd gotten from her mom.
Mom: Can you check the laundry?
She then noticed the second message, underneath the one she had just received from her mom. The one from Dawn.
Dawn: Call me please.
So she called her girlfriend, unaware of what was to follow after.
The boy spent the afternoon with his friends. He too, was unaware of what was to follow after.
Michael got back in his car, driving back to his house in the dark. He arrived home, walking through the front door and heading straight to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbing a few things before heading upstairs to his room. He put his phone on his bed, stripping down to only his boxers.
He sat on his bed, his back up against the cool wall. He set his laptop on his legs, logging on quickly. Michael looked up from his laptop as it loaded, staring out the window while he waited impatiently. He couldn't see much through his window, considering how close the houses were together. Something felt off as he looked out the window, but he couldn't figure out what it was.
He looked down at his computer again, opening up a new tab. It took him a while before he jumped, realizing what had seemed off.
Sophia's blinds were closed for the first time since he met her.
Michael got up, hurriedly opening his window and beginning to knock on her window anxiously. He knew she hated her blinds, so the fact that they were down now was freaking him out. It was such a little thing to get worried about, but it seemed wrong.
Why would she close them now? What had happened that made her close her blinds for the first time?
His knocks became more forced, trying to get her attention desperately, even if she had just decided to put the blinds down because she wanted to, he needed to make sure she was alright. It just didn't feel right.
A dark shape moved the blinds away and he saw his best friend standing on the other side of the window. Michael sighed with relief, not really knowing what he'd been expecting. Of course she was okay.
She'd been crying he saw, and the relief left replaced with concern. Something was off. He had been right, something was wrong
"Sophie?" He asked, his voice failing him at the sight of his best friend, but he knew she couldn't hear him anyway through the glass.
Michael didn't know what happened, but knew he had to fix whatever it was for her.
Sophia opened the window slowly, her hands trembling. She opened it slightly and Michael pulled it up the rest of the way for her, ducking in to her room and quickly taking her into his arms. Once his arms were around her, she fell into him, collapsing into sobs. He picked her up effortlessly, her head buried into his chest. He could feel the tears against his skin.
He sat down on her bed, still holding her tightly. He leaned his head down so his forehead was pressed against hers. He began to hum 'la vie en rose' in a desperate attempt to relax her.
"Mi-Mike-Mikey..." Sophia stuttered in between breaths.
"Shh..." Michael soothed her, as she tried to catch her breath.
"S-Sh.." Sophia tried to say, but the words caught in her throat and she ended up crying more again, Michael rubbing her back softly as she cried.
"It's okay, It's alright, okay," Michael said softly to Sophia, knowing that things probably weren't alright if she was crying.
"Sh-She l-l-left," Sophia stuttered quietly, Michael could barely hear what she had said.
"Who did?"
"Dawn." Sophia cried. Realization hitting Michael the same way the pain had hit Sophia. "She left me."
Michael didn't know how to calm Sophia this time, he knew what it felt like to fall and break when no one was there to catch you. He knew what it felt like to have the pieces fall apart so suddenly. He didn't know how to put Sophia's broken pieces back togther, he'd never actually gotten that far. Michael had broken, now Sophia was breaking and he didn't know how to help her.
He wanted to help her.
"I'm sorry," Michael whispered. He lifted the covers on her bed, setting her down on the bed gently.
"Don't leave me too," Sophia whispered, grabbing his arm. Her eyes were staring into his with a look that was enough to break him again.
"I'm getting you a glass of water, I'm not leaving you,"
"I don't need a glass of water," Sophia begged, not letting go of his arm, "I need you, please."
Michael sat back down on the bed, laying down beside her as she hugged him. He'd always wanted to hear those words, just, not like this. He hugged her back anyway.
"It's okay, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," Michael whispered, Sophia could barely hear him, "don't worry, I'm never going to leave you."
Everything had gone quiet. Sophia's breathing had steadied and Michael could feel the beat of her heart against his bare chest. Michael continued to hold Sophia tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around her keeping her close to him. He thought Sophia had fallen asleep.
"I love you," He said softly to her, unaware that Sophia was awake.