"Music starts playing like the end of a sad movie, it's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see, cause it's tragedy and it'll only bring you down, now I don't know what to be without you around."

Noah.

I haven't been there for her. It's been 5 days. From my understanding, the camp officially ends tonight. When Maja and I got home we stayed with Grams so Dad wouldn't get suspicious, and she covered for us. We told Dad we were at church camp, and there wasn't really an excuse out there for leaving church camp early.

When Spencer returned from the hospital after all her check ups, she fell asleep, and the second her head hit the pillow I had to leave. I couldn't be there. I can't be around her.

I know I'm a shitty boyfriend, but before everything happened I had so much on my plate that I could barely function. My anxiety was through the roof with grades, soccer, my instruments, clubs, Spencer's eating disorder, my abuse, my assault, my anxiety. But now the added weight of Spencer's assault too. 

I've got secrets piling up by the minute and it doesn't feel right keeping it all from her. She deserves to know what's happening. She tells me everything. We agreed to be perfectly open with each other after she told me about her eating disorder. But I haven't kept to that. And it's all wrong.

My panic attacks aren't monthly like they always used to be. They became weekly a long time ago. For a while they were daily back before we left for camp. But now, since we got back only 5 days ago, I've had 9. It's not just the quantity that's gone up, they've got more aggressive and painful too.

Grams walked in on a few of them. She always helps me calm down, but it was particularly challenging this time. I can tell she's getting worried. She knows about my anxiety, but she doesn't have a clue about Dad's abuse or the assault. I think Maja told her what happened to Spencer, but other than that she doesn't have a clue what's causing this.

As my 10th attack of the week fades out, Grams cradles me in her arms, hushing me gently and stroking the hair off my forehead. "Archie, are you taking your meds?" She coos delicately. She always calls me by my middle name, because she chose it.

I hyperventilate, my full body trembling in her arms. My eyes are raw, my chest aching, tears soaking my cheeks.

"They don't work anymore." I admit, sobbing. I physically can't take any more pain. My heart feels like it's about to explode. I think I'm burning alive but nobody sees the flame.

"Bubs I think it's time to talk to someone." Grams whispers sadly. The emotion is clear in her voice and it just worsens the pain.

"I can't. I can't tell anyone." I choke out. "What's going on, Noah? What's hurting my boy?" Grams asks with a voice wet from tears. I don't produce words, just a pained cry. It's enough of an answer for Grams to pull me closer and plant a kiss atop my forehead. 

"I've got so much.. and- and now everything with Spence.. I- can't- take it." I force the words out between agonising hiccups.

"Shhh.. it's okay. Grams is here." She eases, rubbing circles over my heart to make it go away.

"I know you don't want to hear it, Noah.. but I think you need to end things with Spencer." Maja's voice speaks from the doorway. She's spent the past 5 days helping Spencer. At the hospital, her and Jameson had a huge fight and I think they broke up. But she still visits just to see Spencer, somehow feeling guilty like she's responsible. 

I furrow my brows angrily at her, "Shut up." 

I look to Grams, hoping for her to scold Maja, but she just frowns sympathetically, seeming to silently agreeing.

"You know she would never break up with you, but it would do you both good. You're both going through a lot and being together just gives you extra shit to worry about. Maybe not break up, but a break." My twin suggests calmly, entering the room and kneeling down beside us.

"I can't.. I can't do that to her." I deny instantly, wincing every few seconds from the stab in my chest. 

"Noah, this is worse than anxiety.. this is suicide. You don't see it but that's what's happening, you're killing yourself slowly." Maja raises her voice. I can tell she's concerned, but it just hurts more.

The thing that makes this whole conversation hurt more is that I've been thinking it for a while. I know breaking up would resolve some of my issues, but it would add a few for the both of us as well. 

And I have no good reason that I can tell her. Hey Spencer, I'm breaking up with you because my Dad beats me too much and it's causing my anxiety to spiral even more than normal because on top of that he had one of the prostitutes he owns rape me. So you being raped and you having an eating disorder has actually made said anxiety worse. I wish you well, good bye. I can't imagine that would go down well.

I know it isn't fair to keep her tied down to me when she deserves so much more, but selfishly I know I'd be nothing without her.

"How is she?" I ask my twin with hopeful eyes. "She's getting better. I mean.. not better. But she isn't crying as much anymore. She showered and got up today. I think mentally she's getting there. I know it's pretty recent and raw, but she's a fighter." Maja grins. 

A small smile falls upon my face at the idea of her getting better. 

"I think the way she sees it, she wants to just forget it ever happened. I think her brothers think it would be better if she just let it all out now and suffered through the pain until she heals, but she's insistent that she's going to move past it and erase it from her memory." Maja tells me.

I frown, watery eyes. "Tell her not to ignore it. She'll regret it when she's drowning in it." I grit out remorsefully. Maja's positive smile falters. Grams shifts and looks worried.

"Noah, did something happen? Did someone do something to you?" She asks as calmly as she can, but I can see her trembling. I can't bring myself to tell another lie. 

I numbly force myself to my feet, grabbing my hooded sweater and pulling it on. "I should go see her." I state with an unwavering voice, forcing on that resilient face.

Grams doesn't say anything, but her face says enough. Maja stares blankly at the floor.

Spencer.

I'm on the balcony as I slowly force myself to eat. I think I've gone through the seven stages of grief this past week. I started out numb, which I think was my denial stage, I hadn't quite grasped it all yet. That lasted a mere day before everything sunk in. The next two days were filled with anger, plotting what I could do to get back at him. And then the manic approach died out just like a part of me did. All I felt from that moment onwards was depression. I cried, refused to get up and slept for an entire two days.

Then I realized that there was no point. I had to compose myself enough to move on. One of the first things I told Jameson on the drive back was that I didn't want it to define me, so I took it upon myself to fight the feelings strangling me and overcome it.

I've endured all the pain, all the crying in bed. It's time to move on and get him back, but not by burning his house down like I originally plotted. Instead, I'm going to make him rot in prison. So today I got up and instantly felt better after I showered. I could shower his touch away. 

My therapist made a house visit a couple days ago, and she told me that moving past an assault can take between an hour and a lifetime. It wasn't specific to any set time. Every person grieved their own way. And I think I'm luckily one of the people that moves past it quickly. I'm sure that I'll always feel his touch, but I refuse to let it haunt me. I'm stronger than that.

A gentle tap on my window brings my attention away from the birds chirping on a nearby tree. I almost flinch when I see my boyfriend. Deep eye bags droop low beneath his eyes, the usual glow in his eyes having faded to nothing but sadness. He's offering a gentle smile but I can tell it's forced. 

His cheeks are stained red by tears, he looks hellish. But I smile and slide open the door of my balcony, inviting him out. He steps out, his hand reaches out to close the door and I notice a tremor. 

He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt, covering him up and making him look even more lifeless.

"Hey." I smile positively, hoping that it'll cheer him up. It doesn't.

"You look good." He says, biting his cheek. "I feel good. I- I think I've recovered. Like I know it sounds dumb cause it's only been a week, my bruises aren't even gone yet and I feel better mentally." I tell him truthfully, offering him half my sandwich, he denies it and continues staring at me blankly.

"You look genuinely okay." He says quietly, now staring ahead and refusing to meet my eyes.

"I know a lot of people take so long to heal but I just.. I don't see the point in grieving it. It's over now, what's done is done. And as bad as it was, I can't let him ruin my life. It'll haunt me forever, but I can't let it consume me." I say calmly, finishing as much of my sandwich as I can and placing the plate down. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it.

"Nightmares?" I ask him, guessing that he's not got much sleep because of them. But he doesn't answer me, so I glance up to him and see his face swamped by tears.

"Hey, it's okay.. What's wrong?" I instantly coo, reaching my hands up to cushion his cheeks and rid them of tears. 

He doesn't reply, staring beyond me and breathing deep until he manages the words out. "I think we need to break up." He states numbly, without so much as a thought behind his eyes. It's like the lights are on but nobody's home.

My heart sinks, but I remain calm, insistent to get to the bottom of this. "Yeah? How come?" I hum sadly, rubbing his cheek.

"You're dealing with too much right now, it's not fair on you." He states shakily. I analyse his face, the pain tracing his features. He looks on the brink of breaking.

"I am?.. or you are?" I rephrase. He doesn't speak a word, staring blankly beyond me in a haunting way that tells me all I need to know.

"It's okay to be overwhelmed." I offer carefully, brushing his cheeks free of tears. "And I never want to be giving you more to worry about." I tell him.

I force myself not to cry. For Ant Jenkins I've cried all my tears, but I could spend my whole life crying for my poor Noah, one glimpse at his tears and I could shatter entirely. 

"You're the only thing keeping me together." He bawls. "But I'm also making things worse." I finish knowingly. 

I understand. For once in my life I understand. It isn't anyones fault. He's going through too much and all my shit piled on top is too much for him. It doesn't anger me, what does anger though is that I haven't the slightest clue what he's going through. He's got anxiety, I know that much. But I can't fathom what could be causing this amount of stress.

He shakes his head profusely. "You aren't.. I just.." He starts to have a panic attack, I can tell it's starting.

"You just need time to heal on your own. And I do too." I tell him with understanding. It's a lie. I don't need time to heal on my own. I heal perfectly fine with him. But I say what he needs to hear, because sometimes lying is okay when it's for someone you love.

"I don't want to leave you." Noah's lip quivers. And for a moment, I don't see my boyfriend. I see the little boy who would run around chasing Xander with a big grin. I see the kind boy who would always stop to help his friends if they fell over during their antics. I see the boy who gives everyone everything he has and expects nothing in return. I see the purest person I've ever met, being given the worst possible hand in life. And it kills me. It truly stabs me right through the heart to watch him crumble.

"You don't have to. Nothing has to change. We're still friends, and we'll still tell each other everything. It just takes the pressure off." I assure him with a voice raw from tears that I can't quite conceal. 

"I love you." He squeaks out. I almost let myself say it back. Because I think I finally do. But I can't let the first time I say it to him be when we're breaking up. It would hurt us both too much. So I push the urge down and instead produce the words we agreed on. "I don't not love you." I whisper tenderly against his chest once he's pulled me in.

He thankfully lets out a gentle laugh, holding me tight.

I try not to think about it negatively, knowing it's for the better, for him anyway. It hurts, but it hurts even more to know I was hurting him. So knowing he'll have less to deal with makes me feel a lot better.

"You want to talk about it? It might help." I offer gently, neither of us breaking the hug first.

"I should head home, Grams'll be wondering where I am." He sniffles. I nod, knowing he's making excuses, but allowing it.

"I'll see you around." I smile up at him. He nods sheepishly and heads out. Only when he's gone do I allow myself to crumble, letting out all the sobs I couldn't let him see.