Chapter 59 Chapter Fifty-Five
Alex’s point of view
I stayed where I was long after Demi disappeared down the street.
I don't know why. But a large part of me thought, hoped he'd turn around.
Maybe I thought if I waited long enough, the night would rewind itself and give me another chance to say and do the right thing.
Or maybe I just didn't trust my legs to move, not when everything inside me felt like it had been knocked loose.
The streetlight buzzed overhead, steady and indifferent.
I pressed my hands into my pockets, fingers curling tight, nails biting into my palms.
My chest hurts, it hurts so bad and it wasn’t just that type that was usually like a sharp, panicked way it had earlier, no, instead this one was deep, it was a hollow ache that felt heavier the longer I stood there.
You don't want me.
That wasn't what I'd said or felt.
But it was what he'd heard, I could see it in his eyes, his sad brown eyes.
My heart ached as I thought back to how tears glossed over them, like a protective shield.
I dragged in a breath that didn't seem to go anywhere and finally turned back toward the house.
The party was still going.
Of course it was. Music thumped through the walls, laughter spilling out into the yard like nothing had happened.
Like I hadn't just watched someone walk away in tears because of me.
And worst of all is that it wasn’t just anyone, it was Demi.
My Demi.
As I stepped onto the porch, someone shouted my name.
I didn't look.
I didn't want to see anyone.
I didn’t want questions, or jokes, or the casual cruelty of people who had no idea what they were celebrating.
Inside, the lights were too bright. The air felt thick. I pushed through bodies, past half-empty cups and tangled limbs, my head buzzing.
Chris caught my arm near the kitchen.
"Hey" he said. "Where's Demi?"
The question hit like a bruise being pressed.
"He went home" I said flatly.
Chris studied my face. "You okay?"
I laughed, but it came out wrong. "Why do you care?"
It felt wrong to have Chris care for me or how I was feeling.
It’s funny, because before Demi got in the picture, he and I used to be very close, we used to be neighbors at one point in our lives so we naturally got closer, that was how and when he introduced me to Kyle and the three of us became best friends.
But I had started feeling a bit left out and that was when I met Demi and I instead decided to stay glued to his side, leaving Chris and I to drift apart a bit.
Chris frowned. "Because he didn't look or sound okay Alex."
Something in my chest twisted painfully.
"He's not," I said. Then I pulled my arm free and walked away before I could say anything else.
I ended up in the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
The music was muffled in here, distant enough that I could almost think.
Almost.
I stared at my reflection. My eyes looked wrong, too bright, too unsettled. I looked like someone who'd just won a fight he didn't want.
"You did the right thing," I told myself quietly.
The mirror didn't argue back, it just agreed to everything I said.
I stayed at the party another twenty minutes.
Long enough for it to feel like an obligation. Long enough for people to stop noticing I wasn't really there. Then I left without saying goodbye.
The drive home felt longer than usual.
Every car passing by echoed with things I should've said differently.
Every shadow felt too empty.
My phone buzzed once, and my heart jumped stupidly before sinking when I grabbed it.
It wasn’t Demi.
I unlocked it anyway since I was in a red light stop.
I stared at his name in my contacts. At the text thread full of half-sent messages, inside jokes, late-night ‘you up?’ s and quiet confessions typed in the dark.
I typed something.
I'm sorry.
I deleted it.
I typed again.
I didn't mean-
Deleted again.
What was the point? Sorry won’t change anything. Sorry won’t put the words back in my mouth or take the tears off his face.
By the time I got home, the ache in my chest had settled into something constant and exhausting.
I lay on my bed fully dressed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he'd said it.
I think I'm in love with you, Alex.
I'd always thought if someone said that to me, I'd feel something clear. Joy. Fear. Certainty.
Instead, I'd felt..overwhelmed. Like someone had handed me something fragile when my hands were already shaking.
I pressed my arm over my eyes.
Why does it hurt so much if I don't even know what I feel?
The question echoed uselessly.
Sleep came in fragments. Every time I drifted off, I saw Demi's face-hurt, hopeful, breaking.
I woke with my heart racing, my sheets tangled around me like they were trying to keep me pinned there.
Morning light crept in through the blinds, pale and unwelcome.
My phone was still silent.
That shouldn't have surprised me. I was the one who'd drawn the line. I was the one who'd said we couldn't be together.
So why did the silence feel like punishment?
I went through the day on autopilot. Ate without tasting. Answered questions without hearing them. Every quiet moment was filled with Demi's voice, his confession replaying on a loop I couldn't shut off.
By afternoon, the ache had sharpened into something unbearable.
I found myself driving toward his place without deciding to.
I stopped two blocks away.
I sat there parked.
What would I even say? I changed my mind? That would be a lie. I still didn't know what I felt. I still didn't know if I could ever give him what he deserved.
I stood there for a long time, then turned around.
That night, I lay in bed again, staring at my ceiling, the realization settling in slow and cruel.
I had told myself I was protecting him.
But standing there alone, heart aching for someone who wasn't mine anymore, I wondered if the truth was worse.
Maybe I hadn't just broken his heart.
Maybe I'd broken my own- and I just didn't know what to call it yet.