Chapter Three: Evan

The sight of the Williams Co. building is about as daunting as the last time I saw it.

Which was less than a year ago as I dropped by my parents' office to see how they were doing because ever since I moved in with Jasper, I had made no effort to come and visit them.

I had cut all forms of communication with every single person in my life including my parents as well as my friends because I was just spiraling in a long, winded existential crisis slash post-breakup meltdown. Questioning the overall path of my future and the current status of my life during that time, wallowing over Maggie's departure.

I still remember the same bewildered expressions of the employees that day when I had walked into the company. I was still in the middle of my grieving process so I gave no shits whatsoever about how I looked, even if it meant showing up only in a grease-stained hoodie and sweatpants that I wore for three days straight, so beat it.

They were eyeing me up and down, reluctant about whether or not they should trust me when I told them that I was the son of Tiffany and Mason Williams and not just some guy who got run over by a dumpster truck, walked into the building, and was probably just hallucinating.

It wasn't until my parents had to go down and confirm that it was indeed me, their son, but even they themselves had to do a double-check and examine the state I was in at that time, shocked as well of how I came to be.

Their concern for me amplified tenfold after seeing my condition, asking how I was doing and how they've missed me. Alluding to my lack of effort in reaching out to them.

I felt guilty because though the reason why I visited them was to see how they were doing, I also dropped by because I wanted to ask them if they could pay my rent for me due to how I had run out of allowance money.

Which they were more than accepting about, however, that didn't stop them from trying to convince me to just move back in with them, but I declined by saying that I needed the space to be myself alone, and also because I had spent the majority of my savings on alcohol, getting into exclusive clubs, and paying for hotels to hook up in if I was too far away from home.

But of course, I didn't tell them about that, because chances were they were only gonna enable their strict parenting mode and force me to go see a psychiatrist, which I wasn't ready for despite how I was clearly going through a rough patch both emotionally and mentally.

I'm not someone who downplays someone's circumstances when their mental health is going downhill, I've always believed that no matter what, a person's reasons for going through a mental burnout deserve treatment and to be sympathized with.

However, on behalf of my case, I believed that my reasons weren't worth professional treatment because, in my eyes, it was just a breakup. I had believed it was just going to look silly and that my situation wasn't crucial for me to seek any sort of treatment.

Even when Jasper suggested the idea on multiple occasions, reassuring me that it was not stupid and that I at least needed to try.

But I didn't wanna burden anyone. It was already enough I was stopping myself from going to college in New York considering my perception of that place got ruined because of the plans I made with Maggie to move in the same apartment and whatnot.

That, as well as the possibility of her being there. I knew if I went to New York I was just gonna do anything but focus on my studies and instead prioritize searching for her.

It was just too risky, but at the same time I couldn't help but beat myself down about how I was ruining my future all because of a girl who was never meant to stay in the first place.

I felt pathetic. That I was being over dramatic even though Jasper kept telling me I wasn't and that what I felt was normal but still, the nagging voice inside my head begged to disagree.

Telling me that I was being unreasonable and bothersome to the people around me, how a short-lived romance shouldn't be enough of a reason to feel this fucking empty.

That's what I felt. Empty, numb, and self-loathing, as if I had no energy to do anything rather than just lay in bed alone or to lay in bed with someone else under me.

Only so that I could feel alive, to feel less lonesome even though my attempts at having company just made me feel more alone.

But again, I couldn't explain the feeling at that time. How I kept underestimating the cause of my own pain but still not being able to avoid the excruciating ache of it all.

How it just ate me up completely, it was the kind of pain that followed even in times where I was surrounded by people who loved me, who clearly wanted to help but even then, the only thing that seemed to be present was the hurt that kept filling up inside of me, no matter how hollow I felt at the same time.

And although the same feeling still lingers, at least now I'm able to push it aside and carry on with my day-to-day life, overcoming the sheer numbness of it all.

Even using it to my advantage as I walked into the Williams Co. building, following through with the plans I made last night regarding my phone call with my mother.

The employees were now able to identify me with one glance, the receptionists nodding their heads upon my arrival as I reciprocated their greeting with a smile.

I made my way up to my parents' office, feeling weirdly anxious to be seeing them after my last visit, not knowing how they would welcome me now.

Because even though in some aspects they are supportive, there are still parts of them that are controlling and apathetic, so I won't be surprised if they'll just question me about the current state of my life and the path I'm taking.

I walked out of the elevator and into their office, not knowing what to expect - disappointment, relief, anger, or joy in finally seeing their son emerge from his hibernation.

However, as I opened the double doors of their office while being assisted by their secretary, what I didn't expect was being aggressively tackled into an embrace by my mother.

Stumbling backward, my arms instinctively wrapped around my mother's waist as she nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck as she practically screamed into my ear:

"Oh my God, Evan! You're here!" she cried out like she hasn't seen me in over a decade, but in her defense, it almost does feel that way.

Laughing softly, I couldn't help but shake my head at her usual, over-the-top theatrics "Yeah, I am." I teased "Hey mom,"

Sighing, she tightened her hold on me, almost as if she were afraid that if she were to loosen her grip, I could just as easily slip away from her fingertips like the last time.

Seems dramatic, I know, but contrary to popular belief, despite how much I demanded freedom from my parents, at the end of the day, I couldn't deny that not having them around felt almost unbearable at times.

Even though they mostly focused on their jobs while I was growing up, they still managed to show up every day to fill the empty void of the house just by being themselves, and though it's not much, their absence has been taking a toll on me.

Not having mom's obnoxiously loud but uplifting voice bounce off the corners of the house as she calls me for dinner, or my dad barging into my room unannounced just to drag me out to play golf for our annual father and son bonding.

Back then, I didn't try to appreciate the mundane gestures considering I only focused too much on my freedom, and even though things haven't changed since then, the disorientation by not having them around to distract me when I was going through a rough patch was torture.

Maybe it was just the loneliness eating me up because of how I pushed everyone away during the lowest point of my life, but I don't think I've ever needed my parents as much as I did when it was only me and my darkest hours left to accompany me when everyone else was out of arm's reach.

Eventually, we pulled away from one another as she looked up at me with her typically beaming eyes, reaching her hands to cup the sides of my face.

"I missed you so much, honey," she told me in almost a whisper as my eyes softened.

"I missed you too, mom. Like a lot," I said and before she could say anything else, the doors to the office opened as a familiar voice spoke.

"I heard screaming as soon as I stepped out of the elevator-"

My father's footsteps instantly halted upon seeing me, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, blinking a couple of times as if he was having a hard time registering my presence.

"Son..." he uttered, his tone laced with disbelief as his face broke into his one-in-a-million type of smiles, the kind that made both ends of his eyes crease in glee, showcasing the visible wrinkles etched on the expanse of his skin.

I couldn't help the gnawing ache that shot through my chest seeing the signs of old age shine through on both of their faces, ones that are only gradually building up while simultaneously bringing them down day by day.

It only dawned on me that with the year spent withdrawing from my parents that time didn't remain still for any of us, despite how much it feels like it did because when mental health is unstable, the concept of time is basically nonexistent.

I didn't keep track of the days that had already passed, not until I was pulled right back on earth by the spine-crawling realization that my parents aren't getting any younger.

Meaning that sooner or later, I needed to tend to my responsibilities and focus on my priorities. No more slacking off, moping around, even when I didn't feel like it, I needed to do this.

Not only for myself, but for the people around me as well.

We all sat by my mother's desk, with me facing across from them as my mother situated herself on her office chair while my father stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

I couldn't help but admire the sight before me, rare cases of lasting marriage that even to this day still stands strong. Sometimes I wonder how they managed to do it, especially with taking care of a son and businesses of their own, you'd expect constant fights and disagreements.

But it wasn't like that. Sure, there were fights, but they just as quickly overcame them as soon as they started said fights by compromising each other's decisions, even if it means altering their own convictions to adjust to the other person.

It always made me wonder how much a person can love another for them to be able to do that.

To unload baggage from your side of the boat to make space for the one that you love so that you can paddle your way through uncharted waters, together.

"So," my mother started, her elated smile from earlier now falling into a soft grin as she stared at me "About last night."

I laughed under my breath, dreading where this was going. "Yeah, last night."

A moment of silence stretched across the room, pondering over what we were about to say next - with my mother and father exchanging glances while my eyes remained drawn to my hands, my fingers fidgeting nervously,

"... Are you sure?" my mother finally asked, breaking the ice.

I gulped, even without needing her to elaborate on her question, I understood all too well what she meant by that, especially with how her tone came out almost timid.

"Yes, I am," I answered, my voice low but even so, I've never felt more certain in my entire life.

She tilted her head at that, appearing curious with my current disposition "What changed?"

The corners of my mouth twitched at that as I shrugged, leaning back into the chair I'm sitting on "Honestly? I don't know. Maybe it was because of my argument with Jasper last night that knocked some sense into me, maybe I've always felt this way but I was just too scared to follow through with what I want, but all I know is that...this has to happen one way or another."

I couldn't decipher the looks on their faces, one moment I thought I saw a hint of relief, and then the next there was doubt that then morphed into concern.

"But are you 100% certain that you're doing this because you want to, and not because you feel like you need to do it in order to not burden anyone? Because if that's the case, you know you can take as much time as you need-" my mother began as I shook my head, silencing her.

"I'd be lying if I said being guilty wasn't part of the reason as to why I decided to do this, because I'll be honest, it also is. But there are other more reasons as well, and it's more so on the frustration of how I'm destroying my own life than it is about disrupting the peace in other people's lives, and I know deep down that I need to reevaluate my life before it gets out of control. I can't keep being unfair not only to the people around me but to myself as well."

"Because I know I deserve better than this," I concluded "I deserve better than to stay stuck in a chapter of my life that I should've turned over years ago, but I was just too scared to do so."

Their eyes softened upon hearing my words as if what I just said was all the confirmation that they need in order to believe that yes, I am sure about this.

That I'm sure about taking the next big step, about taking that leap that's only being hindered because of momentary tremors that are causing my foot to hover over the precipice.

But the gap isn't all that big, and it's either I take that jump now, or never.

"So yeah," I said, smiling up at them. "I am. I am sure about this."

*  *  *

It's official. I'm finally going to leave this shithole also known as Los Angeles.

But as I stare through the window of Jasper and I's apartment that overlooks the entire city, I can't help but feel somewhat melancholic, gazing at the vibrant buildings and busy highways.

I take a swig from the glass of whiskey currently dangling in my hand, swallowing it down as I let the familiar burn course through my throat, letting the pending toxicity of the liquor engulf my mind as well as my system.

A couple of days from now, I'll be leaving all of this behind. Everything I've endured and witnessed in this very city, I was gonna walk away from.

Not only physically, but emotionally as well.

I knew moving to New York was gonna be the next resort because staying in LA just wasn't optional, especially with how many painful memories were associated with this place.

And I knew that part of the reason I remained inert in terms of moving on was mainly caused by the general environment I was in, I just can't find myself to be strong enough to persevere if where I stood physically didn't change as well.

So this had to be done because a lot of the time things that are tainted by the past just need to be discarded if you really wanna move forward without wanting to be sucked right in by something that feels familiar.

Because sometimes, what's familiar isn't always what's great.

And so as I look at the city before me, I look at it with a disposition akin to that of an old friend bidding their last farewell - indulging in the memories, basking on it, before finally...

I let it go.

"Promise me, though. That you'll try and go to New York and follow your dreams, no matter how big or small it may be, follow what your heart wants."

"Only if you promise you'll go to New York as well."

"Sure. If it all falls through, that is."

"Which it will, and who knows, maybe once we're there we'll move in together."

I take another swig at my whiskey, the view of the city now beginning to blur as I let out a sigh "Some things are just better off letting go."