thirty
Leo's POV
The second I walk out of her building, my legs almost give out.
I make it to my car.
Barely.
I sit inside and grip the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white, breath shaking so hard it hurts.
Aaliyah... came home crying.
Cried so hard she couldn't see.
Cried because of me.
Cried because she thought-
I slam my fist into the dashboard.
It doesn't help.
Nothing helps.
My chest feels like it's collapsing from the inside out, folding in on itself like everything soft in me is choking.
I used to deal with shit like this the same way every time:
Fight.
Drink.
Break something so I didn't break myself.
And right now?
My body remembers exactly how easy that used to be.
My vision blurs.
My pulse spikes.
My brain is screaming at me to do something - ANYTHING - to get rid of the pain ripping through me.
But I don't want to be that guy anymore.
Not for her.
Not around her.
Not anywhere near her.
She deserves someone gentle.
Steady.
Safe.
I hit the steering wheel again, this time with both palms.
The horn blares.
Someone yells from a balcony.
I don't give a damn.
I suck in a shaking breath and force myself to drive home.
?
When I get inside, the spiral hits full force.
I close the door behind me and lean my back against it, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor with my head in my hands.
My throat hurts.
My chest hurts.
My pride hurts.
But nothing compares to the image of her face.
The way she looked at me.
Like she was... destroyed.
By me.
A choked, broken sound leaves my throat - something between a curse and a breath and grief.
My hands start shaking.
I stand up fast, too fast, and knock over a stack of books. They crash to the floor.
"Fuck," I whisper.
I grab the nearest thing - my keys - and throw them across the room.
They hit the wall and fall.
Still not enough.
My heart is pounding so hard it's making my vision pixelate.
I run a trembling hand through my hair.
I need a drink.
The thought slams into me sharp and familiar.
Just one.
Just something to numb this feeling tearing me apart.
But then I see her face again -
tears streaming -
lips trembling -
running from me.
And the thought dies in my throat.
I sink onto the couch and drop my head into my hands.
"I'm not losing her," I say out loud.
My voice is wrecked, shaky.
"I'm not fucking losing her."
My phone vibrates again.
It's Maya.
Maya:
hey... she believed it was more huh?
I stare at the text until my hand shakes with anger.
I almost type something furious.
Something venomous.
Instead I toss the phone across the room too.
I need air.
I need something to hit.
I grab my jacket and storm outside, down the stairs, into the cold air where I can breathe again.
But breathing doesn't help.
None of this helps.
I end up walking fast - almost running - to the empty basketball court behind my building.
I walk to the fence.
Brace my hands against the metal.
Breathe like I'm suffocating.
My voice cracks out:
The fence rattles under my grip.
"I should've sent Maya home.
I should've locked the door.
I should've messaged Liya this morning.
I should've-"
My voice breaks entirely.
"I should've protected her from this."
I press my forehead to the cold metal and close my eyes.
There's only ONE thought cutting through the chaos:
My jaw tightens.
My chest expands with something sharp and determined.
"I'm going to win her back."
I step back from the fence.
"No girl goes near my place again," I mutter.
"No girl touches my clothes."
"No girl stays over. Ever."
Not even Maya when she's crying.
There will be NO misunderstandings.
Not with Liya.
Not ever again.
But that's not enough.
She needs proof.
She needs reassurance.
She needs to see that she's the only one I want.
My heartbeat steadies for the first time since morning.
A plan begins forming.
Painful.
Risky.
Vulnerable.
But the only thing that could work.
I exhale slowly.
"She deserves everything," I whisper to the empty court.
"And I'll give it to her."
I pull out my phone with shaking hands.
Open a new note.
And start writing the plan that will either fix everything-
-or break me completely.
But I'll do whatever it takes.
For her.