I remember the last time I went through the double door several feet away from me, that's currently being guarded by a bouncer. I remember how terrified I was, I could barely see what's in front of me from how hard my heart was beating and how sweaty my hands were. I also remember swearing to never set foot in that place.

Of course, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw about five minutes ago, when I broke my oath to myself and walked in there. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing my girlfriend doing something she also promised to never do again. We really need to think about what we're promising before we promise it.

"Thanks for the car," I speak up, my voice flat, still staring at the double door of the building to my right.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Seth stammers from the back seat, awkwardly clearing his throat a few seconds later. I can't see him from my spot in the driver's seat, but I can tell he'd rather be anywhere else than in his car, waiting for Freya with me, and ultimately having to listen to a conversation between me and her that is probably going to make him uncomfortable enough to willingly jump out of the car.

"Could you do me a favor?" I ask – as if he hasn't done enough for me tonight. Spared me the pain of having to talk to her myself and tell her to get the fuck off that pole and out of that club. The mere reason I went inside at all is to convince myself it's really her, and that she's really doing it again. As expected, the picture he sent me wasn't lying.

"Uh, sure, what is it?"

"When we get to my apartment, wait in the car for 10 minutes, yeah?" I turn my head so I'm partially facing him, "Dunno if I'll be able to handle her bullshit excuses tonight. Might stay at the frat house or something."

"Okay," Seth almost whispers as I rub my forehead, and feel the anger start to build up inside of me again when I look at the double door of the club, and she's still not out. How long does it take her to shower and get dressed, dammit? Though I wouldn't blame her if she's procrastinating so she'd avoid seeing me sooner rather than later, this isn't going to be pleasant for her whenever she decides to show up.

"Is that-" Seth points at the club, and I have to gulp before averting my eyes to the doors again; and sure enough, when I do, I spot her walking toward the car, slowly, looking down and you can see the humiliated expression on her face from a mile away. All in all, it is quite a pleasing sight.

I look through the windshield when she approaches the car, avoiding eye contact as she gets in and sits next to me. I didn't think I could feel this repulsed by her presence, ever, not when I found out she'd been lying about her name, not when she came up with the 'freedom' thing, not ever. Not ever. But she just keeps proving me wrong day after day after day.

"Nia-"

"Don't talk," I interrupt her, my voice low while starting the engine. "Don't say a fucking word."

She sighs exasperatedly, sitting up in her seat and Jesus, if she says something- "Just let me-"

"Darling, I will snap your fucking neck if you don't. Shut. Up." I say through gritted teeth, my knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. This was a bad idea, Seth should have driven the car. I feel like I'd purposefully drive us into a moving bus if I see one.

Fortunately, the ride to my apartment is short and she doesn't say anything for the rest of it, or else I'm pretty sure I would've really killed all of us in pure fury. "Wait here, okay?" I turn to Seth when I stop the car in front of my building, and he quickly nods; even he doesn't want to get on my bad side.

I nod too and get out of the car, not waiting for Freya as I start marching to the entrance. Although, I hear swift foot steps behind me and then there's a shadow next to mine on the sidewalk, meaning she's caught up to me. I keep avoiding looking at her, but from the corner of my eye I can see that her arms are crossed, and she's still looking at the ground while we walk up the stairs.

"Why is Seth waiting for you?" She finally speaks up, while I dig through my pockets for my key – I can't help smiling humorlessly at her question as I unlock the door; why the hell does she think he's waiting for me?

"Because I can't really stand being in the same room as you," I tell her flatly, not caring about the consequences of it when my anger dies down a little. Though my anger vanishing even a little doesn't sound quite possible right now.

"If you could just hear me out-"

"What do you have to say to me?" I cut her off again, spinning around so I'd face her while walking to the kitchen backwards, to get myself a beer. I regret not having anything stronger in the house. "Anything that would actually excuse you for going to that place? Or did you really stoop that low just for money?"

For the first time tonight, I get a good look at her; she's standing about five feet away from me, with a scared look on her face, pulling at the hem of her sweater in anxiousness. "I did it before and you didn't think it was low."

I can't help shaking my head from my spot at the fridge, and grit my teeth so I wouldn't start yelling just yet. I don't even want a beer anymore. "How stupid are you exactly? Do you really think I'm angry because you went stripping?"

"Then what is it?!"

"You fucking lied to me!" I finally crack and start shouting, "And not about just anything, you fucking went and did the thing you were forced to do for years by that sadistic psychopath, you swore you hated it, you swore you'd never do it again, you, you just- God fucking dammit, why?! Tell me fucking why!"

My breathing is ragged by the end of my request, and I'm just noticing that I've taken a few steps toward her, while she's taken a few backwards, now standing with her back against a wall, looking more terrified than before. I can't believe she's done something so bad, that made me angry enough to scare her this much.

"I..." She stammers, looking down again, gulping audibly – at this point she's actually too scared to even form a proper sentence. "I-I don't- I can't make enough m-money for college just by waiting tables, you have to understand that."

I narrow my eyes at her, walking even closer to her while she backs herself further against the wall. "Are you telling me, that in the past... however long you've been doing that shit, you haven't saved enough money for even one year of college?"

By the time I'm done talking, my body is almost pressed against hers, and while I feel like I could explode from the anger any second now, she looks like she's going to explode from the anxiety my behavior is causing her. "How much money do you have, Freya?" I ask again, tilting my head to the side so I'd face her, but she avoids me by looking up at the ceiling, looking like she's having trouble breathing. "How many years of college can't you exactly afford?"

She closes her eyes for a brief second, trying to turn her head to the side but I grasp her jaw, to turn her head so she's facing me, and she lets out a squeak at my actions. "Go on, answer me. Tell me if your financial situation is so bad that you just had to go back to that club again."

"Please let go of me."

"Fucking answer me."

"Okay! Okay, I-I..." She stutters, desperately trying to move my hand from her face and I finally loosen my grip, making her gulp in relief. "I... I have nin..."

The rest of her sentence is an incoherent mumble, confusing me so much I have to compose myself before talking. "What did you say?" I ask, and her answer is once again a series of noises that not anyone could understand, only further angering me. "For God's sake, you're not demented, just fucking say it!"

"I have..." She pauses again, the way she gulps making her look like she's on the edge of vomiting. "Nine... ninety thousand dollars. In one of my backpacks."

My initial reaction is widening my eyes, and thinking that she's just lying now. But when I do the math, she's been doing this three times a week for about four years, if anything, there should be more than ninety thousand. Ninety thousand dollars, what the actual fuck.

"So when..." I start, but pause to laugh again, taking a few steps away from her. "When you say you can't afford college... you mean you can't afford all four years at once?"

"Do you even know what it takes to become a doctor?" She speaks up, the determined tone of her voice surprising me. "First I have to earn a Bachelor's degree, then go to medical school, then medical residency, so when you think about it, yeah, I can afford only about one third of my entire education."

"And I can barely afford this year, that I have already enrolled in!" I shout again, "You don't see me returning to old jobs that were once nightmares to me!"

"What other choice do I have?!" She joins me at shouting- oh boy. "What other job could get me the money I need now?"

"You don't need it now! You have three fucking years to make it, you could do a decent job and not go there, why the hell would you go there again?"

"I don't know!" She yells, at the top of her lungs, seemingly cracking as well; and I can't help but widen my eyes at how infuriated she looks all of a sudden. "I don't fucking know! Maybe it's because I have fucked myself over so good in the past few years, that I'm not qualified to do anything but take my clothes off for strangers! Ever thought of that, Niall?!"

"Of course there are other things you co-"

"Oh, cut the bullshit right there, anyone with a pulse is qualified to wait tables and serve coffee!" She points out, making her way to the kitchen with her hands on her face, and continuing to shout, "I was the perfect fucking student in school, I have never gotten anything bellow an A- ever, I was the Most Likely To Succeed and Most Likely To Win A Nobel Prize and Most Likely To Become fucking President, I had such big plans, and if I hadn't been so fucking weak, I wouldn't be here now!"

She slams her hands against a counter, and I can almost see her breaking something within seconds. "I would've been with my family, at home, at this point I'd probably be going to medical school and not dancing on poles-"

Just as I'd predicted, she slams her hands – this time against a few plates that were neatly placed on one of the counters, breaking all four of them. "-to earn money to start fucking college at 24!"

I wince and grit my teeth once again, fighting the urge to fling myself at her when she continues breaking every single dish within her reach, either by knocking her now bloody hands against them, or throwing them at the wall and floor. I don't even feel safe going near her. I'd die.

I snap out of my trance when she violently reaches for the cupboards, nearly tearing one of the doors off in search for more objects to break; her actions make me finally lunge forward, into the kitchen, grasping a fistful of her hair and her sweater, to rip her away from anything she could break or hurt herself with. She only stops talking and shuts up when I wham her into a wall, so forcefully I wouldn't be surprised if the impact knocked her out.

"Ni-"

"Shut up," I tell her, barely containing myself, "I'm not fucking around, if you don't shut up-"

"Niall-"

"Shut up!" I start yelling again, gripping her arms so tightly my hands hurt from the force. "Shut the fuck up, for the love of God, stop talking just once in your life!"

Her eyes keep getting wider as I keep yelling in her face, and I can see that same look of pure fear and anxiety on her face that she had a few minutes ago. "Niall-"

"One word, Freya, one more fucking word-"

"You're hurting me."

I blink a couple of times at her words, that take me aback, and look down at where I'm holding her arms; her slightly bloody hands covered in scratches are numbly hanging, veins popped out at the back of them and the sight of that makes me let her go. "I'm..." I trail off before saying the word sorry, because I don't feel quite sorry yet; instead I sigh and walk over to the sofa, slumping down with my head in my hands.

I could never hurt her; no matter what she did. The thought of laying my hand on her makes me sick. But the way she's acting, how she's handling her life and the mistakes she made, is bad enough to make another person go absolutely insane. I could never hurt her, but every violent thought that's crossed my mind, she's the one who put it there. I could never hurt her, but if I ever do anything to remind her of Craig, she has to understand that it didn't just fall out of the sky, she needs to understand that she's part of the cause.

I'm just sick of her constant whining and complaining, and then not doing anything about, well, anything. I'm always there to make her feel better about whatever shitty thing crosses her mind, but it's becoming exhausting because it's literally an endless cycle of her weeping and me losing my mind because of the weeping, and the only thing that really changes is how much patience I have. And I keep losing it each time she grumbles about all the things she did wrong, and how there's apparently nothing she can do about them, and it's the end of the fucking world, and I'm practically losing my mind right now just thinking about her nonsense.

My thoughts make me shake my head, and realize she's still just standing against the same wall – only now she seems too scared to even move. "Go take a shower and get in bed."

When I hear no movement, I look up and catch her looking at me, that same look of fright present in her eyes as she stares at me. "Do it."

Freya doesn't object, she barely gives me a nod at all before turning around, and slowly walking out of the room. Just as I sigh and lean back in the couch, I jump in my seat upon hearing the door bell ring. It's eleven at night, who the hell would ring anyone's bell now?

I get up and walk over to the door despite my thoughts and questions, which are actually answered when I open it and see my first door neighbor there. Of course. People who get disturbed by all of the noise you make, those people ring bells.

"Hello- Kyle, was it?"

"Yeah," I say through a small sigh, not feeling like starting yet another argument. "And you're Helen."

"Yes, I live right there," The lady points to her right, "With my husband. And three children all under the age of ten. And my mother that has Alzheimer's disease."

I frown and stand up straighter; I was planning to get rid of her in about ten seconds, but if she thinks she's going to make me feel bad by telling me this... she is completely right. "Okay."

"And it's kind of late, especially when I have two toddlers that refuse to go to sleep, so I'd really appreciate it if you kept the noise to a minimum. Or else I'll have to call the police, and neither of us wants that."

"Okay," I repeat, nodding this time, earning a grateful smile from her. "I'm sorry. And we were just done making the noise, so..."

"Great," She says, starting to stroll backwards, "Thank you. I'll see you around, Kyle."

"Alright, Mrs Helen." I raise my brows as she walks back into her apartment; suddenly I feel bad for not correcting her the first time she got my name wrong.

I walk back into my own apartment, locking the door in the same time as I hear water coming from the shower in the bathroom. I make my way to the kitchen and sigh at the sight there; I always hated vacuuming, but I'm probably going to hate it even more now. So much broken ceramic. Even the colorful bowl I made in preschool that my mom insisted I bring with me to Chicago, shattered with pieces lying around on the floor, a countertop and some even in the sink. I'll have to vacuum the sink too.

I get the hoover that has its place in a corner in the hallway – which I barely have the will to use once a month – and it takes me about ten minutes to clean up the mess she made. The most painful part was having to vacuum the colorful bowl, or what's left of it. I always claimed I hated it, and it took Freya smashing it against the tiles on the wall for me to realize that I actually don't.

When I turn it off, deciding there aren't any shards on the floor that could injure us, about ten seconds pass before the water coming from the bathroom stops too. The only thing that's going to give me any sort of comfort tonight is knowing that she's washed off every bit of the strip club off of her, and isn't bringing it to my bed.

There's another noise that startles me, this time while I make my way to the bedroom; this time it's my phone and once again I have no idea who could be calling me at this time, but I'm more surprised to see Seth's name on my screen than I should be; between the yelling and cleaning and talking to my neighbor for the first time, the fact that he's waiting for me in his car and probably freezing has completely left my mind.

"Seth?"

"Hey, uh... how did it go? Are you okay?"

I was expecting him to be a little angrier. "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I'm gonna stay here after all."

"You sure? I heard you guys yelling. Couldn't hear what you were saying exactly, but it didn't sound nice."

If he heard us, then I have no doubt that Helen heard each and every word we spoke. Or yelled. "Uh, we... we're good."

"Yeah? Got everything sorted out?"

"No, but... we'll get there. We always do."

"You don't really," He surprises me by saying, but I can't help breathing out a laugh at the accuracy. "Ever. You kind of just... she goes cuckoo, and you go therapist on her. And then everything is okay for like two days, and then you're back to square one."

I look down at my feet, not really having anything to say; everything he's saying so far is true, and I'm not sure if I want to hang up on him or ask him to keep talking. "Yeah, well..."

"Look, I know I'm the last person that should be talking about relationships and that shit, but seriously, why are you with her?"

His question makes me frown this time, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is there anything that's keeping you around anymore? Think about it, think about your relationship with her. What's making you stay with her?"

I keep frowning, now slowly strolling around the room, actually thinking about what he's telling me. I can't believe his questions are reasonable. "I don't know, I... I love her."

"I know you do, man, but you've only known her for, what, five months? Is it even worth it anymore? She's given you more stress than anything else, and I know it's because she has issues and all that, but you're not obligated to fix her. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Your life doesn't revolve around healing her and-and being her therapist, there are actual therapists for that. Speaking of which, I don't know if anyone who's not a professional can help her get her shit together, at this point. I mean, you tried, and look where that got you."

Seth's random outbursts of wisdom rarely ever make anything easier for me- like now, he's making this situation even harder. "I, I don't- I'm not sure-"

"Just face it, she's damaged," He continues, beginning to slur, "I know you love her and all, but she's damaged, and she comes from a damaged family, and you don't need that at nineteen. You don't need it at all, but we all come with baggage. I'm just saying, she might have too much of it right now."

Furrowing my brows at his words, I lean against the back of the sofa, "How drunk exactly are you?"

"A bit too drunk, you might have to drive me to the frat house either way." I chuckle when he pauses, "And I become deep when I'm drunk, I got that from you. You turn into fucking Aristotle after three beers, did you know?"

"Okay, okay, no need to call me out for that," I smile, instinctively turning my head when I hear the bathroom door open, "And, uh, you know what, I think I-"

Just as I was about to tell him I'd changed my mind about staying, Freya walks into the living room, with nothing but a towel tightly wrapped around her, stopping in her tracks when she sees me on the phone. She stays in her spot at the door, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at me hesitantly and still a little scared.

I can hear Seth saying something on the other line, but watching her, I can't help getting a little lost in staring at her; I don't know why, but the simplest things such as the strands of hair falling from her messy ponytail and the fact that she's not wearing any make-up, are so captivating all of a sudden. It's like, for the first time after a while, I'm starting to notice just how beautiful she is again. Goddamn, she's so beautiful. And I know she's just as beautiful on the inside, she just, she has issues. Seth is right about everything he said – but if he thinks his words are all it's gonna take me to leave her, he's wrong. She's more than a bag of issues, I'm not giving up on her. Not yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I stammer into the speaker, finally taking my eyes off of her, interrupting Seth in the middle of whatever it is that he was saying. I hang up before he could start objecting, and stare at my phone for a few seconds, "I'm... I'm going to bed," I say, clearly talking to Freya, and push myself off of the couch I was leaning against. She doesn't reply, but I can feel her eyes on me as I walk to the bedroom.

I hear her walk in a few minutes after I get under the covers, and within another minute she's in bed next to me, but I try to ignore her by pretending I'm asleep and not moving. Just because I decided to stay and got distracted by her big blue eyes and rosy lips for a minute, doesn't mean I'm not angry anymore and that I've forgiven her for going to the club. However, maintaining that outlook becomes a little difficult when she wraps her arm around my torso, pressing her front to my back and her forehead to the nape of my neck. Well. Despite the circumstances, I think I like this. And here I thought I preferred being the big spoon.

"Niall?" She mumbles against my skin, and I gulp at her hoarse voice. She's been crying. She cried in the shower. "Niall, I know you're not asleep. Niall. Niall."

I sigh and turn on my back, careful not to accidentally lie on any part of her body. I look at her with a blank face, though I can feel my expression starting to turn annoyed. "You're gonna kill me one day, you know that? I'm not kidding," I shake my head, "I worry and care about you so goddamn much, and you go around doing shit like this. I don't think I'll make it to my midlife crisis if you keep doing it."

"I know, I'm sorry," She says, in a tone so hopeless, you could hear it from a plane.

"You keep saying that too."

"I know," She repeats, looking away from me for a couple seconds, "But... these are problems that I have with myself, and they have nothing to do with you and-and I'm sorry that you got mixed up in all of it."

"Maybe you need a break, then?" I raise my brows, "To figure everything out. Maybe get, dunno, professional help. 'Cause I'm starting to feel like I'm more of a distraction than someone who's helping you."

"What are you saying?" She frowns, "You don't- are-are we okay? Now that this happened?"

I know she's talking about our relationship by saying 'we', but among other things, I'm also sick of sugarcoating things for her. "I don't know."

She gulps at my honest answer, "Are you okay?"

"Look, I love you. But I'm not gonna love you to death."

I notice her gulp again, and try to ignore the look she has on her face right before she starts crying, as she shifts closer to me. I involuntarily put my arm around her when she lies on my chest, muttering the words, "I love you too."

That'll have to be enough for now.

*******

this ride that we're all on is about to turn sad so you might wanna get yourselves tissues

but if you think we're anywhere near the end lmao are you wrong, ily all