Chapter 7
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I told myself I wouldn’t let it happen. I told myself I wouldn’t let him get too close. But here we were, sitting on the worn couch in my apartment, both of us too fucking quiet for comfort, the silence thick and suffocating.
I hated it. Hated that he was still here, still trying to fix me. And I hated even more that he made me want to let him.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him that. Not when I knew I was nothing but a wreck of a person, an impossible mess that no one could fix. Least of all him.
Evan was sitting across from me, his hands clenched into fists in his lap, his brow furrowed with that look he always got when he was trying to hold back. Trying not to say something he knew would push me further away. He was too good for me. Too goddamn perfect. I could feel it, he was always so calm, so patient. He was always the one who cared. And I hated him for it.
“Barty,” Evan finally said, his voice quiet but steady, like he was trying to ground me. “You need to stop doing this. You need to stop pushing me away every time things get hard.”
“Pushing you away?” I snorted, leaning back against the couch, taking a long drag from the cigarette dangling between my fingers. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m trying to protect you.”
He blinked, his jaw tightening. “Protect me? From what? From you?
“Yeah, exactly,” I spat, tossing the cigarette into the ashtray, suddenly filled with rage. “From me. From everything that’s wrong with me. I’m not some fucking charity case you can fix, Evan. I’m not some project for you to feel good about.”
He stood up then, his hands shaking, his breathing shallow. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to be here for you. But you keep pushing me away like I’m some kind of threat.”
I stood up too, my blood pounding in my ears. The anger coursing through me was the only thing that felt real. The only thing that could drown out the gnawing ache in my chest.
“You think you can fix me? You think you’re strong enough to handle all my shit? You think you can save me from myself?” I sneered, stepping closer to him, daring him to say something. Anything. “You’re too good for me, Evan. You’re not cut out for this.”
“Stop saying that,” he replied, his voice breaking. “Stop telling me I’m too good for you. I’m not some fucking saint. I’m just a person, Barty. A person who’s trying to love you.”
I took a step forward, towering over him, trying to push him back into that corner I always shoved him into. The corner where he couldn’t breathe, where he couldn’t fix things.
“Love me?” I laughed darkly, shaking my head. “You don’t know shit about love. You think you can love someone like me? Someone who’s broken, who’s fucked up beyond repair? You think you can handle my shit?”
“I’m not afraid of your shit!” Evan shouted, his voice rising. “I just don’t want you to keep fucking pushing me away, Barty! Don’t you see that? Don’t you see how much I’m trying?”
His words hit me like a slap to the face, but I didn’t let him see that. I couldn’t. Instead, I just clenched my fists and turned away from him.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “You don’t know shit about me. You don’t know what it’s like to be me. To have a father who beats the shit out of you every time you fuck up. To live in a world where you’re never enough. You don’t know what it’s like to be so fucking broken that you don’t even know how to fix yourself.”
Evan took a step toward me, his expression softening. “Barty.” His voice was full of something I couldn’t name. It was compassion, but it was more than that. It was something deeper. Something dangerous.
But I couldn’t let him in. Not again.
“Don’t come near me,” I growled, backing up. “Just don’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm, like it was the one thing he had left to cling to. “I’m not running, Barty. I’m staying. Whether you want me to or not.”
My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe. I hated him for being so fucking kind, so patient, when all I wanted to do was push him away.
“You’re too fucking good for me, Evan,” I repeated, my voice cracking with the weight of it. “I’m not the guy you think I am. I’m a fucking mess. I’m not worth your time.”
“You’re worth it,” Evan said, his voice steady, unwavering. “You are. But you have to start believing that for yourself. You have to start seeing that I’m not going to give up on you just because you’re broken.”
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to push him away and never let him get close to me again. I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve anyone.
But I couldn’t. Because even as I said those words, even as I pushed him away, a part of me wanted him to stay. A part of me wanted to collapse into his arms and let him fix me. Let him love me. But I couldn’t let him.
“I don’t need you,” I muttered, looking away from him. “I don’t need anyone.”
Evan was silent for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Then why do you keep pushing me to stay?”
That fucking question. It hit me like a punch in the stomach. Because he was right. I was pushing him away, but I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him here. I wanted him to care. I just didn’t know how to let him.
“I don’t want you to stay,” I said, my voice low and deadly quiet. “I don’t want you to fucking care.”
The words hung in the air like poison. I didn’t want to hurt him. But I did. I always did.
Evan’s eyes burned with something dangerous now. Anger. Frustration. But beneath that, there was something I couldn’t name. A kind of resignation. Like he’d had enough of me and my bullshit.
“Then why are you still here?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of it. “Why am I still here?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. We both knew why. He was still here because I couldn’t let go. Because even when I pushed him away, even when I hated myself for it, there was a part of me that needed him. Needed someone to hold me up, even if I wasn’t willing to admit it.
“You should go,” I said again, my voice hollow. “Just go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Evan said, his voice soft now, but full of something else. Something that felt like defeat. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Barty.”
I didn’t answer. Because deep down, I knew he was right. I couldn’t keep doing this to him. I couldn’t keep tearing him down just because I was too fucked up to love him.
The air in the room felt colder now, heavier. We were two opposing forces, so close but somehow farther apart than we’d ever been before. The silence was deafening, stretching between us like a chasm that neither of us could bridge. I could feel Evan’s gaze on me, his eyes burning with something close to hurt, but I wasn’t ready to face that. Not now. Maybe not ever.
I was angry. So fucking angry, but I couldn’t even tell you what I was angry at. Him? Myself? My father? My past? It all felt like one big, messy swirl of emotion that I couldn’t untangle. I took a deep breath and turned away, hoping he’d just leave. I wanted him gone. I wanted the warmth of his presence to disappear so I could just curl up and wallow in the bitter comfort of my own self-pity.
“You’re doing it again,” Evan said, his voice low but sharp. “You’re pushing me away.”
I stiffened. “I’m not pushing you away,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just need some space.”
“That’s bullshit, Barty. You don’t need space. You need to stop running away from the people who care about you.”
His words stung more than they should have. I felt my heart race, the pulse in my neck quickening as I turned back to face him. I could feel the anger bubbling up, a familiar fire rising in my chest. But this time, it wasn’t just the frustration of being misunderstood, it was something deeper. Something darker.
“You don’t get it,” I snapped, my voice raw. “You think you can just waltz in and fix me like I’m some fucking puzzle? You think you can save me from myself? It doesn’t work that way, Evan. I’m beyond saving.”
Evan’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and I could tell he was trying to stay calm, trying to keep the peace. But I could see the frustration in the tightening of his jaw, the way his fists clenched at his sides like he was fighting to hold onto his composure.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice trembling with the weight of his words. “You are beyond saving. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on you.”
“I never asked you to save me,” I retorted, my voice rising. “I never asked for any of this.”
Evan’s gaze softened, and I saw the tenderness in his eyes that had been there all along. But there was something else there too, something that I couldn’t name. Disappointment? Frustration? I didn’t know. But whatever it was, it felt like it was breaking us both.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice quieter now but still edged with that anger I couldn’t shake. “I’m not asking for you to be perfect, Barty. I’m not asking for you to be someone you’re not. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep giving pieces of myself to someone who’s just going to push me away every time things get hard. I deserve more than that.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. The air left my lungs, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to shout back, to say something, anything that could make him stay. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have anything left.
“I never asked you to stay,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I never asked for anything from you.”
“Well, maybe you should,” Evan snapped. His voice was loud now, breaking through the walls I had built around myself. “Maybe you should start asking for things instead of just pretending like you don’t need anyone. You’re not some lone wolf, Barty. You don’t have to push everyone away just because you’re afraid of getting hurt. We all get hurt. That’s life. But you don’t get to make me your fucking punching bag just because you’re too afraid to let anyone in.”
The words hit me like a slap to the face, and I felt my chest tighten, my stomach churn with something I couldn’t name. My hands shook, and I balled them into fists, the anger surging back in full force.
“You think you’re the only one who’s hurting?” I shouted, my voice hoarse with the force of it. “You think you’re the only one who’s been through shit? You have no fucking idea what it’s like to be stuck in your own head, to be trapped in your past, to feel like you’re never going to escape it. You don’t know what it’s like to live with someone who beats you down every fucking day, who tells you you’re nothing, who makes you feel like you’re never good enough. You don’t know what that feels like, so don’t fucking lecture me about how I should feel.”
Evan’s eyes flashed with anger, and I could see his jaw tightening, the muscle in his neck working as he clenched his teeth. But then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly like he was trying to calm himself down. He was trying to be the bigger person. He always tried to be the bigger person.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I don’t know what it’s like. I don’t know what it’s like to have someone tear you down every day. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand here and watch you destroy yourself. You don’t get to push me away every time things get hard, Barty. You don’t get to throw me out like I’m nothing.”
I felt my heart racing in my chest, and for a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. I opened my mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to make this right.
“I’m not trying to destroy myself,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Evan’s expression softened slightly, but there was still an edge to his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Barty. But you need to stop pretending like you don’t need anyone. You need to stop being so fucking stubborn. I can’t keep fighting you if you’re not going to let me help.”
I looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I wanted to pull him closer, to apologize for everything I’d said, to tell him that I was scared, that I was terrified of losing him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. Not when I felt so fucking lost.
“I don’t need your pity.” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“I’m not pitying you, Barty,” Evan replied, his voice tight. “I’m trying to love you, but you’re making it damn near impossible.”
The silence that followed was unbearable, thick with everything we hadn’t said.
And in that moment, I knew we were standing at a crossroads. This could be the moment we figured it out, the moment we found a way to make it work, or it could be the moment we broke.
I wasn’t sure which one I wanted.