Chapter Fifty-Seven Joshua / Aurora
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Joshua / Aurora
Joshua
Back to this hellhole.
I wanted to skip today because I didn’t want to leave Honey. I didn’t want to leave her alone, and I didn’t have the energy. But I skipped a lot already.
The air was sharp, cold, but not enough to numb the noise in my head. I’d been walking toward the field, same routine as always, backpack slung over my shoulder, hoodie pulled up, trying not to think about anything at all.
But of course, fate had other plans.
Because there they were—Aly, Jennie, and Layla—standing by the bleachers as if they’d been waiting for me.
The second their eyes met mine, I knew.
Something was coming.
They didn’t even hesitate. The three of them walked straight toward me, their faces tight with guilt, their steps too quick. And before I could even open my mouth, all three spoke at once.
“We’re sorry.”
I stopped walking. The word sorry echoed once, twice, and then kept repeating between them like they were racing to get it out first.
They talked over each other, stumbling through half-apologies and explanations. Aly tried to lead, Jennie’s voice cracked, and even Layla, the calmest one, looked shaken. And she didn’t even spit cruel words at me; she was honest.
“Joshua, we were wrong,” Aly said, her tone fast, desperate. “We thought you were still hurting her—”
“But you weren’t,” Jennie added quickly.
Layla took a breath. “We pushed you away. We said things we shouldn’t have. Aurora, she—”
That name hit harder than all their words combined.
Aurora.
They kept talking. Their voices blurred together, something about how Aurora didn’t know the girls pushed me away, how she was broken when I left, how Aly told her the truth.
But I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe properly either.
Because all I could see was her face that night at my door. The box of cookies in her hands. The soft “Happy Valenti—” before I shattered everything.
And I remembered every tear I didn’t wipe away.
When they finally stopped talking, the silence that followed was suffocating. The three of them looked at me, waiting, hoping for me to say something, anything.
But what was there left to say? The damage had been done. I hurt her; I had no right to walk back as if I didn’t do that. Because I did.
I slammed that door in her damn face.
I did.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared at the ground. “You don’t have to apologise,” I said flatly. “You were right.”
Aly frowned. “Joshua—”
“I mean it,” I interrupted, my tone sharper now. “You were right about everything. I didn’t deserve her. Still don’t.”
Jennie opened her mouth to speak, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“I broke her. Over and over. You don’t come back from that. Not really.” I met their eyes then, all three of them. “She deserves peace. She deserves better. And if that means me staying away, then fine.”
Layla looked like she wanted to argue, but I shook my head before she could.
“It wasn’t worth it,” I said quietly, the words coming out colder than I meant them to. “None of this was worth it if she’s hurt again.”
And before any of them could speak again, I walked.
I heard Aly call my name first. Then Jennie. Then all three together.
But I didn’t stop.
They were right.
I didn’t deserve her. And I never would.
I didn’t make it far before another voice stopped me.
“Josh.”
Alex.
Of course.
He was leaning against one of the benches near the path, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable look that always pissed me off, calm, patient, like he was waiting for me to blow up.
“What?” I muttered, voice rough.
He pushed off the bench and walked over, lowering his voice when he got close. “Jennie told me. About what happened. And I’m guessing they just talked to you.”
I scoffed. “Of course they did.”
“They were wrong, man. You know that, right?”
I laughed once, humourless. “Funny. Everyone keeps saying that lately.”
Alex frowned. “Joshua—”
“No, really. It’s fucking funny,” I snapped, turning to face him fully.
“First, they tell me I’m not enough, that I’ll never deserve her.
That I should leave her the hell alone before I ruin her again.
So I do. I do the one fucking thing everyone begged me to do.
” I gestured vaguely toward the campus. “And now? Now everyone suddenly has a change of heart?”
Alex didn’t say anything, just stared.
I kept going, the words spilling out faster now, sharper. “Now they tell me I should go get her back. That she misses me. That maybe I’m worth something again?” I shook my head, scoffing. “Fuck off, Alex. It’s too late.”
“Josh—”
“No,” I cut him off, voice cracking, but I didn’t care.
“You don’t get it. None of you do. You weren’t there when I had to look her in the eyes and tell her to leave.
You didn’t hear her crying through the fucking door.
You didn’t feel it when you knew you'd just lost the only person who made you want to be better.”
Alex’s expression softened, but I couldn’t stop now.
“You all made me realise it, didn’t you? That I didn’t deserve her.” My voice dropped, low and raw. “And I believed it. I still do. Because maybe I really don’t. Maybe it’s better this way.”
Alex sighed. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “And you’re too hopeful for your own good.”
He looked like he wanted to argue again, but I’d had enough. I turned away, pulling my hood up as I started walking.
“Joshua,” he called out behind me, voice calm but firm. “You’re making a mistake.”
“But it’s mine to make.”
It fucking sucked that everyone suddenly decided to see the truth now. Now, when the damage had already been done.
When she’d already cried herself empty.
—
Aurora
The girls promised they’d talk to him.
Aly said they’d make it right. Jennie said they’d tell him everything. Layla said he’d come around once he knew the truth.
I believed them. God, I needed to.
So when I saw them walking toward me after class, with Alex right behind, my chest started beating too fast. My hands went clammy, and my stomach twisted, because this was it. This was the moment everything would either start to heal… or end for good.
But the second I saw their faces, the guilt, the quiet pity… I already knew. Aly’s eyes dropped first. Jennie’s hands fidgeted. Layla bit her lip as if she were trying to stop herself from crying. Alex stood behind them, silent, as if even he didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t even need to ask.
“He said no,” I whispered, voice breaking halfway through.
The girls didn’t answer. They didn’t have to. They just nodded slightly, heads bowed.
My throat burned instantly. My eyes stung before I could even blink. And suddenly I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth with my hand, but the sob slipped out anyway.
Layla reached for me first, but I stepped back, shaking my head.
“He’s really not coming back,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
Aly’s face crumpled. “Aurora—”
My legs went weak, and before I knew it, Jennie’s arms were around me, holding me up as I broke apart.
“I thought he’d come back,” I cried into her shoulder. “I thought—I thought if he knew the truth, he’d come back.”
Alex looked away, jaw tight, eyes filled with something that looked too much like regret. But it didn’t matter anymore; nothing did because I lost him. Fully.
Everything around me blurred. The field, the noise, the people. All I could hear was the sound of my own breathing, broken, uneven, too fast.
Alex’s voice cut through softly.
“Hey,” he said to the girls, his tone firm but calm. “Go. I’ll take care of her.”
They hesitated, glancing between us, but one look from him, and they nodded, leaving quietly.
Alex guided me away from the benches, down the path and behind the old tree near the back of the field, the one that blocked most of the view. It was quiet there. Secluded. The kind of quiet where you could finally fall apart without everyone watching.
He crouched in front of me as I sank to the grass, tears already streaming down my face again. I tried to hide it, but Alex wasn’t having it.
“Hey. Look at me,” he said softly, his hand brushing under my chin, tilting my face up.
I shook my head, whispering, “It’s over. He—he doesn’t want me anymore.”
Alex exhaled slowly, wiping a tear off my cheek with his thumb. “That’s not true.”
“Then why did he say it?” My voice cracked, and I pressed a hand to my chest. “Why did he tell me to get out of his face? Why did he let me think I was nothing to him?”
Alex looked away for a second, running a hand through his hair, clearly fighting his own frustration. Then he leaned closer. “Because he’s stupid. Because he listens too much to the surrounding noise. But you need to know something, Aurora.”
He paused. His voice softened—rare, almost disbelieving of himself for saying it. “He loves you.”
I froze, eyes flicking up to meet his.
“He told me,” Alex continued quietly. “That night we hung out. He said it. He said he loved you, Aurora. And I’ve known that idiot since we were kids; I’ve never heard him say that word about anyone.”
My lip trembled again, the tears coming faster. “No, he doesn’t. He—”
“He does.” Alex’s tone stayed calm, steady, like he wanted to anchor me with it.
“You should’ve heard him, Aurora. The way he talked about you…
It wasn’t just words. He changed, and you know it.
He became better because of you. And even if he thinks he’s not good enough, he still loves you. That doesn’t go away overnight.”
He sighed and sat down next to me, pulling me gently into his chest. I didn’t even resist. I just let him. The tears came harder, soaking into his shirt as he patted my back slowly.
“Joshua’s stubborn,” Alex said against my hair. “He’ll fight his feelings, push people away, and then hate himself for it. But if there’s one thing I know about him, it’s that he doesn’t stop loving easily. And I can promise you that much.”