20. James’ Always
JAMES’ ALWAYS
The city blurred around me in streaks of headlights and neon signs, a few people brushing past without noticing the war happening inside my heart.
Because inside me, everything was collapsing.
Completely.
A slow destruction I had spent months trying to hold together with trembling hands.
It felt like a building finally giving out after carrying too much weight for too long.
And the worst part was that I still loved him while it was happening.
I crossed the street without fully being present.
Passed storefronts glowing gold against the night.
Heard laughter somewhere nearby that felt like it belonged to another universe entirely.
Meanwhile, my chest felt like it was caving inward.
Even breathing hurt.
I kept swallowing hard, blinking quickly, trying so desperately to keep myself together long enough to go home.
Because there was something humiliating about falling apart in public—about becoming visibly heartbroken.
So I held it in.
Held it in.
Until I reached the bus stop.
The fluorescent light above it flickered faintly, bathing everything in a pale glow that made the city feel colder somehow.
I stood there alone, arms wrapped around myself, staring at the road while the storm inside me grew louder and louder and louder.
My throat burned from trying not to cry.
Because I had done it.
I had finally walked away.
I had finally fought for myself.
I had finally chosen myself.
So why did it feel like something inside me had just died?
The bus arrived a few minutes later with a long mechanical groan.
The doors folded open.
It was almost ten. So the bus was empty.
I climbed in quietly, tapped my card against the scanner, then moved toward the very back where nobody could look at me too closely.
The seat beside the window was cold when I sat down.
Then the bus pulled away from the curb.
And suddenly, there was nothing left to distract me anymore.
No people.
No city noise loud enough to drown my thoughts.
No Victor standing in front of me to keep me composed.
Just the low hum of the engine, and the rattling of metal, and the city blurring outside the window.
And me.
And then, my chest folded inward so violently and haphazardly that it felt physical.
I pressed my lips together immediately, trying to stop it… trying to breathe through it… trying so hard not to completely shatter right there.
But I couldn’t anymore.
The first tear slipped out before I could stop it.
Then another. Then suddenly, I was crying so hard my body started shaking with it.
Silent at first.
Then ugly.
Then painful.
I bent forward slightly, covering my mouth with my hand as if that could somehow contain the sound of my heartbreak.
Because this—this was the real grief of it.
It didn’t feel triumphant.
Walking away from someone you still loved didn’t feel brave in the moment. It felt like tearing your own heart out and forcing yourself to keep living anyway.
I cried harder at that realization.
The city lights outside smeared into streaks through my tears.
And somewhere between one shaky breath and the next, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
My hands trembled as I unlocked it.
Then instinctively, I opened TikTok.
The front camera reflected my face back at me.
Red eyes. Wet cheeks. Completely wrecked.
I stared at myself for a few seconds.
Then slowly, with trembling fingers and a breaking heart, I started recording.
“Hi guys!” I said, my voice already breaking.
I let out a small laugh immediately after, embarrassed by how wrecked I sounded, but it only made my tears fall harder.
“Uhm…” I swallowed hard. “I finally did it. I ended things with the guy who broke my heart.”
The words hung there for a second.
Outside the bus window, the city continued passing by in blurred streaks of light and shadow, buildings stretching into each other like memories I could no longer separate properly.
“You guys remember him, right?” I asked, looking straight into the camera now. “The one I keep yapping about. The one who basically destroyed me… Mr.V?”
I smiled weakly.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We got back together.”
A shaky breath escaped me.
“And now we ended again.”
I looked down briefly, trying to collect myself, but my emotions were already spilling over too fast for me to catch them.
“Because if I stayed, soon enough, he would ruin me—and I… I would be okay with it. and I can’t be okay with it… I just can’t.”
Silence.
“And I think the craziest part is…” I laughed softly again, though there was nothing happy in it. “We never technically broke up because there was never really an us.”
That hurt to admit.
“Like… that’s the thing nobody tells you about situationships,” I continued. “Your heart just doesn’t care that there wasn’t a label. Your heart doesn’t care if it was only three months or six months or whatever amount of time people think should be ‘valid enough’ to hurt over.”
Tears kept streaming down my face.
“When someone becomes part of your everyday life… your routines… your future… your sense of safety… even without a label, losing them still destroys you.” My voice cracked there badly.
The bus rattled softly beneath me as it turned into another street.
“And loving in this generation is so damn hard,” I admitted. “Because they will hold your hand like forever. They’ll call you every day like you’re the one. They’ll sleep beside you. Or tell you things they don’t tell anybody else. Or make you feel chosen.”
I shook my head slowly.
“But when it’s finally time to be sure about you? Suddenly they don’t know what they want anymore.”
I looked away for a moment.
“And maybe that’s why this kind of heartbreak feels humiliating,” I said. “Because I sit here grieving something people don’t even think was real.”
I tried to breathe through the ache in my chest.
“But it was real to me.”
My voice broke completely there.
“I spent so long thinking love meant staying,” I admitted. “Understanding him. Forgiving him. Being patient enough that eventually he’d choose me properly.” I shook my head. “But sometimes… sometimes loving someone too much is the very thing that ruins you.”
The bus lights flickered.
“And I know walking away is supposed to feel empowering,” I said. “Like you’re supposed to feel strong or free or proud of yourself. But honestly? It just hurts.”
The honesty of it cracked something open inside me again.
“So maybe choosing yourself doesn’t always look powerful. Maybe doing the right thing can also look like this—crying alone at the back of the bus.”
I gave the camera one last broken smile through tears.
“And maybe being strong isn’t about finally not loving them anymore. Maybe it’s loving them with your whole heart and still walking away because… because you finally realized love isn’t enough anymore.”
I shrugged, feeling defeated.
I posted it instantly.
Then, quickly, I opened my contacts.
My thumb hovered over Andi’s name for only a millisecond before pressing call.
“Hello?” Andi answered, her voice a little groggy and confused. “James?”
The moment I heard someone who loved me answer the phone, I broke all over again.
My lips trembled.
Then quietly, helplessly, I whispered, “I need you guys.”
The Mandani buildings glowed above the boardwalk, towering with pride in all glass and light and almost impossible ambition.
But out here by the water, everything felt softer. Slower. Like the world itself lowered its voice for my grief.
I walked quickly beneath lamp lights, my hands trembling inside my pockets, my chest still raw from every feeling I had to feel.
The farther I walked, the more heartbreak inside me stopped feeling survivable alone.
And for the first time that night, I realized I didn’t want to survive it alone.
Then finally—I saw them.
At the stairs of the boardwalk.
Andre was pacing back and forth restlessly, arms crossed, glancing toward the path every few seconds like he had been waiting for hours.
Meanwhile, Andi, Honey, and Mel sat together on the steps beneath the warm glow of the lamps, huddled close like they were trying to hold the night together between them.
They looked sad.
Mel rested her head against Honey’s shoulder while Honey absentmindedly rubbed circles against Andi’s arm. Even from a distance, I could feel the heaviness sitting between them.
And suddenly, my chest hurt all over again.
Because they came.
Even after everything.
Even after I disappeared.
Even after I shut them out.
They still came.
I stopped walking for a second, standing there and staring while something warm and devastating bloomed inside my chest all at once—gladness, grief, longing, relief.
Home.
Then Andi looked up.
Her eyes found me instantly.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
Everyone turned toward me at once.
Andre stopped pacing.
Honey’s hand flew to her mouth.
Mel stood immediately.
And the moment I saw all of them looking at me like I was someone worth waiting for, something inside me completely gave out.
I ran toward them.
Tears came before I even reached them.
Andi caught me first.
The second her arms wrapped around me, I broke apart completely.
A sob ripped out of my chest so violently I could barely breathe through it.
“I’m so sorry, James!” Andi cried immediately, holding me tighter. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I did the right thing,” I said helplessly. “And it hurts so much.”
“I know,” Andi whispered back.
Then suddenly, the others were there too.
Honey wrapping her arms around my shoulders from my left, Mel pressing close to my right, and Andre pulling all of us in at once like he was trying to physically keep me from falling apart completely.
My knees nearly gave out beneath the weight of it all.
“We’re here now,” Mel whispered beside my ear gently.
“The bravest thing you did, James,” Honey whispered softly. “The best gift you gave to yourself.”
“It hurts,” I repeated.
“I know,” Mel said. “We’re here.”
“We’re never leaving,” Honey added.
“We’ll stay,” Andi said. “I’ll stay. Because I loved you since day one.”
“My forever baby,” Andre added in a shaky voice.
Then his hand cradled the back of my head carefully before he pressed a kiss against my forehead.
“You’re safe now,” Andre said quietly. “You’re home.”
And somehow, that was what finally shattered whatever pain I was still trying to hold together.
Because maybe that was the cruel thing about love: how easily it could turn into grief. How one person could enter your life like magic and leave it like a storm.
But friendship?
It stayed.
Through heartbreak.
Through humiliation.
Through silence.
Through the versions of yourself you could barely recognize anymore.
And even at our worst, we kept finding our way back to each other.
And standing there beneath the lamp lights of the boardwalk, crying in the arms of the people who never stopped choosing me, I realized something for the first time in months.
Maybe love was not supposed to cost me myself. Maybe the right people—the people meant to stay—would never require me to survive them just to be loved.
And for the first time in a long time, home wasn’t a person.
It was the people who never stopped choosing me.