"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Grayson's voice vibrated through their—soon to be his—apartment. 

At the sound of his voice, they heard their next-door neighbor slamming something on the other side of their kitchen wall. "Turn down that racket!" his muffled holler interrupted Grayson's argument, but he couldn't care less about Mr. Crabby's fragile hearing. All his attention was focused on the tall girl tramping around the bedroom. Her hand snatched up pieces of clothing that were scattered around, before shoving them in an old gray suitcase. 

After hurling in one last heap of clothes, she shut the bag with unnecessary force. Her angelic features twisted into a vexed frown as she tugged at the zipper. The wrinkle in her brow got deeper before she gave it one last powerful pull. To his dismay, the bag closed, bringing Hailey one step closer to leaving. 

"No, for the umpteenth time today. I'm not kidding, Grayson." She pushed past him and headed towards the bathroom, with yet another bag in her hands. He wished she'd stay still for two seconds, but instead, he found himself trailing after her hopelessly. She kept grabbing everything in sight. Shampoos, soaps, her toothbrush, the rubber ducky at the edge of the tub . . . She seized it all, dumping it into the worn-down duffle bag on her shoulder.

"Damn it, Hailey. You can't do this again," he muttered through clenched teeth. She gave him one quick look over the shoulder; her features only reflected pity. One measly second of hesitation later, she shook her head and whipped her bleach blonde hair back to throw the rest of her things in the bag. 

"I can and I am," she stated before heading back to the small room that served as their dining room . . . and kitchen . . . and living room . . . and, once a month, a dance battle stage. She was never particularly excited about that last one. 

Hailey did her best to push past the small space between the sofa and coffee table with five large bags in her arms. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't understand her. He could provide for Hailey better than anyone—definitely better than that no good low life waiting for her downstairs. He had the innate talent to go in and out of her as if she were some kind of drive-thru. What a complete dickhead . . .

Yet here she was! All belongings in hand and ready to leave with him without a second thought. Grayson didn't know which one of them was worse. 

A tote bag slipped off her shoulder and dropped out a bundle of underwear and shirts. Her eyes traveled up to Grayson's and then back at the clothes. She didn't expect me to help her, did she?! 

Hailey glared at him before dropping to her knees to push her things back in the bag. A single blue shirt had fallen closer to his feet. He bent down to grab the soft cotton fabric. There was a faded red stain just by its collar. Its source was fresh in his head. They'd eaten chili dogs after he'd forced her to see Wicked on Broadway for the fifth time. She was extra unhappy when she spilled the sauce on this new shirt. It took him a while to get her to laugh it off. 

The image shattered when he felt her hand yank the t-shirt away to stuff it back in her bag. Once upright, she resumed her haste and reached for the handle of her suitcase. His hand grabbed her on impulse before she took another step. 

"Please, don't . . . " he pleaded, but deep down he knew it was futile. He'd lost this fight long ago. She picked him; she always picked him. Over . . . And over . . . And over again . . .

In one smooth motion, she dropped all her things on the floor and let out a tired sigh. "Grayson . . ." his name slipped out of her lips, setting off a wave of goosebumps over his skin.

In half a second, he was already in front of her. He clasped her soft hands between his. His grip was firm even though she didn't pull back. Grayson's breath trembled at the thought of her pulling away, the thought of losing her for good. 

Her teary gaze ran over their joined hands. Those hazel eyes were rarely so telling, and he wished they weren't right now. Flashes of nostalgia were clear in her expression. This was already a memory to her; this was already over. 

"Don't . . . Just stay quiet for a second. Just stay here with me." He brought his forehead to hers and took a deep breath. Her not-so-subtle fragrance of lavender perfume acted like a drug to him, numbing all of his senses. Everything around him faded away in a clouded haze until he couldn't focus on anything but her. 

His blissful trance was torn to shreds when she said, "Grayson, he's waiting for me." 

He had to step away. His throat was closing up now, and his eyes prickled and stung. The fury and heartbreak pulled at his features, changing them into a clear expression of betrayal. 

"All those 'I love you's, were they just a lie? Something you told me out of pity? Because I don't need your damn pity, Hailey," the spiteful words tasted like poison to him. He didn't enjoy the way she looked hurt now. 

She shook her head with fierce determination. "No, of course not . . . I meant each and every one of them, but—"

"But what?! If you love me then why leave me . . . for him?"

Her voice cracked as she whispered, "I love him more."

A guttural groan broke out of his mouth, and his hands flew up to pull at his dark strands. He'd done this too many times. It was the same old story, and it'd have the same old ending. It was only a matter of time before he'd get the slightest bit bored and leave her for any other hot new thing. 

"God, Hailey! Why can't you see? All he does is hurt you time and time again. Then, I'm left to pick up the pieces." His hand swung straight up to point out a square window. That asshole was probably waiting on the street below. That cocky bastard was probably so relaxed, knowing well it was only a matter of minutes before Hailey ran into his arms again. 

"I was always there for you. No matter how many times you left me, I still loved you," He whispered and grabbed both her hands. She didn't pull back when he rested his forehead against hers. "I still love you. I'm better for you, Hailey. I wouldn't hurt you like that."

A tear escaped her eyes as she laid a gentle snow-colored hand to his cheek. "I know you're better for me. I should be happy, but—" she stopped herself and smiled a bit while choking back tears. "But with him, everything's exciting and new. I guess I prefer the thrill of danger than knowing I'll always be safe here."

Another stray tear fell down her cheek, sending another wave of heartbreak throughout Grayson's chest. 

It broke him as he spilled out the words, "I can't do this anymore. If you leave now, don't come back. I mean it, Hailey. I won't see you broken again." His last syllables were crumbled up by his clenching throat. He sucked in a sharp breath to steady himself. 

A shaky smile appeared on her lips as she brough them to his cheek in a gentle kiss. "Goodbye, Grayson."

With the sleeve of her jacket, she dried off her tears and grabbed the bags from the floor. He turned his head away but kept gazing at her from the edge of his eye. Hailey let out a shaky sigh as she walked out the door, without taking a single glance back at him. 

With the shut of his apartment door, she was out of his life, leaving him more heartbroken and shattered than he ever did to her.