Y/N

_

WORK SUCKED more than usual, so all I wanted to do was eat.

Snatching a bag of chips from the snack cabinet, I jumped onto my couch and reached for the remote sitting on the coffee table. I had changed out of my work clothes as soon as I arrived, and thankfully, I was now wearing a large t-shirt and shorts instead.

Scrolling through Netflix, a new rom-com caught my attention. It was called When In Rome, or something like that, and so far I was enjoying it. (Sorry I couldn't resist)! It was about a college student going off to Italy and running into an artist on the train there, then him showing up and taking her around the city, and then them falling in love, and then-

My thoughts were cut off by the sound of someone pounding on the door. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I paused my show and rubbed my eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Timothée," I called out, "it's been one day, how did you already lose your key?"

When there was no response, I rolled my eyes and slumped across the room. I had a bad day at work, a rough morning, and now I had to pause my show because my new roommate was irresponsible. I swung open the door, a frown on my face, but was met with the last person I ever wanted to see.

"Who the hell is Timothée?" Leo slurred, his hand propping him up on the doorpost.

This wasn't happening. Almost instantaneously, I felt a million goosebumps rush up my arm, and my heart felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute.

"What are you doing here?" I choked out, staring at the boy, "how did you find me?"

He didn't respond, but instead stuck out his bottom lip, "[y/n], can we just talk?"

"No, Leo, I told you already-"

I snapped my mouth shut when I caught a whiff emanating off of his breath. Almost uncontrollably, my mind flashed back to the moment where I was standing in his apartment, watching him with that other girl.

"Are you drunk?" I spat out.

"No," he mumbled, "yes, no, maybe."

Even though I hated what he did to me, I hated seeing him like this more. He looked like a mess, with disheveled hair, puffy eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. In the three years I had dated him, I'd only ever seen him like this twice. The day I broke up with him, and now.

"For Christ's sake, Leo," I sighed, "just go home."

I turned to close the door, but he threw out his arm and blocked it from locking. Unsure what to do, I could only watch as he drunkenly stumbled inside, holding himself up on anything he could grab.

"How much have you had to drink?" I sighed, shuffling towards the kitchen counter to grab a towel.

"Only a bottle," he mumbled, now propping himself onto the coat rack, "or five."

"Five? Leo, you're going to pass out."

"Yeah, yeah...whatever."

I ran some cold water over the towel, walking over and placing it against his burning hot forehead. He was sweating like a pig, the tip of his nose pink with overconsumption.

"You need to sit down," I mumbled, grabbing his arm and leading him over to the couch.

I knew I should have just turned him away, but seeing him so helpless made me hurt inside. I had always taken care of him whenever he needed me, and he needed me now. I couldn't say no. He plopped down on the couch, his face squished against the pillows.

"Who's Timothée," he mumbled again.

"My roommate," I said softly, flipping the towel around, "don't worry about him."

"Your roommate's a guy?"

"I told you not to worry about it."

"You know he's never gonna love you," Leo rambled, his consonants almost completely gone, "i'm the only one who can do that."

"I'm not asking him to love me," I frowned, "and I'm not asking you to love me either."

"I love you..." he mumbled.

"Sure you do."

His phone started to ring from his pocket, and my eyes flickered over towards the sound. Leo didn't seem to care that he was receiving messages, and he grabbed my hand and squeezed it weakly.

"I love you," he said again, "love love, love love..."

His phone rang again.

"Leo, answer your texts," I told him, patting his forehead again, "you know you can't stay here."

"Love, love love," he slurred, "love, you, love you."

He was seriously drunk, but I found my eyes starting to soften. Seeing him spill everything out made me wonder if he really meant what he was saying. Did he still love me? His phone rang again.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled, "you love me, huh?"

"Yes, baby, I do-"

His phone rang once more, cutting him off. At this point the annoying text tone was bothering me, so I reached over his chest and slid his phone out of his pocket. I was going to shut the ringer off, but my eyes couldn't help but drift towards the screen.

CAMILLA MORRONE

Baby where are you??
You said you were staying the night

I didn't know why I was surprised. I should have seen this coming as soon as he stepped foot in my apartment. I felt my whole body going numb as I stared at the phone, the words taunting me with each second I stared at them.

"You love me?" I scoffed, "What the hell, Leo?"

He was oblivious, "yes of course I love you..."

"Then why is she still on your phone?" I said, my voice starting to shake, "Why is she still texting you?"

He didn't ask who I was talking about. That only made it worse. He knew exactly who I was on the phone, and he didn't even seem to care.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "she just is?"

I took a step away from him, dropping the towel into his lap. I felt like my stomach was crawling into my throat, swallowing up all the words I wanted to say. I shouldn't have had to say anything. I shouldn't have.

"She's just a friend," he lied, his voice trailing off, "I only love youuu."

"Just stop talking," I whimpered, "just stop."

"I love you."

"Stop..."

"I love you."

"You don't love me!" I choked out, "stop saying you do!"

"I love you..."

This time I had enough, my blood finally reaching its boiling point. I threw his phone down on the floor, the tears starting to spill down my cheeks.

"If love is only a word to you, it's not love," I yelled, "love isn't a freaking word, Leo, love is a feeling!"

"I feel it-"

"Love is learning to respect someone more than you respect yourself!"

"I do respect you."

"If you respected me," I cried, "you would leave. You would get out of my apartment, and leave me alone."

"Baby..."

"Get the hell out, Leo."

"You're making a mistake."

"GET OUT!"

I never raised my voice like that. I never needed too. But now I finally did, and it was tearing me apart. I stood there silently, watching as the boy stumbled out of the complex, slamming the door behind him. I was burned out, used, and tired. collapsing onto the ground, I hung my head in my hands and cried until I couldn't take it anymore.

I was alone in an empty home, with an empty heart.