Chapter Two: Evan

It wasn't long before I found myself in front of Jasper's bedroom, knocking softly on his door at 12:00 AM "Jasper, can I come in?"

It took a while for him to respond until eventually, he did, knowing that as much as we get into our occasional fights now and then, he can never really stay angry at me. "Come in," he replied.

I made my way inside to see him sitting on his bed, his phone in his hand, already clad in his usual nighttime attire - a simple white tee as well as a pair of baby blue pajama pants.

He arrived home at 10:00 PM due to how his classes start at five in the afternoon, and he gave me the silent treatment in between the hours before and after his classes, and considering I haven't attended University yet and mostly just stay at home the majority of the time, not being able to talk to him was torture.

Plus I know I needed to apologize, deep down as much as I refuse a lot of his lectures, I know he was only doing it because he's worried for me and the path I was taking.

I've been in a slump these past three years and he never fails to support me despite the rough patch that I've been through and how I tend to pour all my burden down on him.

But I know his sudden change of behavior toward my instability had only been because of my lack of progress because whenever he chastised me it was never about how I've trashed the environment of his apartment, it was always about how I've ruined my own life.

It was always about my well-being and how I've fallen into a deep spiral and never emerged from it, and I felt guilty, there was never a day where I didn't feel bad about how I dumped all of my problems on him and made him feel responsible for my recent downfall.

"Hey," I began as I drew myself closer towards him as he just stared up at me with a distant look in his eyes.

"Hey," he replied, setting his phone down on his nightstand.

"So about this morning..." I trailed off, nervously rubbing a hand on the nape of my neck as I willed myself to continue "I'm really sorry."

Jasper sighed, closing his eyes as he shook his head "No, I'm sorry. I overreacted, honestly, I did. I should learn how to sympathize better with your situation but these days it's just getting harder and harder to see you lose your sense of direction."

"I understand that trust me, I do, and there's not a day where I don't feel bad that I have to let you witness this side of me, hooking up with different people and being a complete wreck-"

"That's the thing, I don't care. It doesn't matter if you come crying to me every night or you're staying with me in this apartment until you've fully recovered, what does matter is that you're spending your days drinking all the time and having sex with strangers because you can."

"It's not normal and we've known each other since we were kids, Evan. Seeing you like this just makes me feel inadequate because I feel like I'm not doing enough to help you." he added, "I can't stand seeing you act like this over someone who hasn't even gone out of her way to contact you these past three years and yet here you are ruining your life and for what?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose in agitation as he breathes in and out of his nose, attempting to calm himself down "I get it, she was your first love. She was the first girl you truly fell in love with but was she really that special for you to go through all of this?"

I didn't answer, I refused to do so because I know once I dig deeper into my subconscious and really pried myself into answering that, I was just going to question the general state of my sanity. Knowing fully well whenever it comes to her it was always yes, yes, and yes.

Yes, I am acting this way because I lost her. Yes, I am acting this way because I lost the first girl I ever truly loved, and feel like I'm never gonna move on. Move on from her.

And deep down I know it stemmed from a place of reminiscence, how I was so forcibly pulled away from a time of my life where everything seemed too good to be true, that once I was wretched out of it, I'm still finding ways to desperately latch on.

Thinking if I did so hard enough, she'd still be there, at that same park, coming to join me in our runaway heist together like how I thought she would.

In a way, maybe I am still in denial of what transpired between us and the remnants of our short-lived romance. As tiring as it all was at the beginning, in the end, it was worth it.

Because it was her, and if you had asked me to be engaged to anyone else, I probably wouldn't have gotten as attached, had become as obsessed as I am now.

But it just had to be her out of all people.

"I know it's not justifiable," I muttered, "And maybe for most people, what we had wasn't that big of a deal for me to have ended up like this, but it was to me in its own way."

"I know it was," he said as he stared at me with warm and pitiful eyes, a stark difference to his fiery rage displayed earlier this morning "And I'm not saying what you two had wasn't special but what's the point of mourning when they're not there anymore, Evan?"

"But she is though," I proclaimed "Somewhere out there, I just don't know where."

There was a long pause before he spoke again, appearing conflicted about what he's about to say next, "But she isn't here with you now," he said softly "I get that you worry about her, but if you two are really meant to meet again, it'll happen. But for now, you can't keep allowing the memory to put your life on hold, it's just unfair to you, Evan."

I understand where he was going with this, I honestly do, because even I know how unjust I've been towards my own well-being. I know I deserve better than this, I deserve more than just waiting for a person who was most likely never gonna show up at my doorstep the same way I kept imagining her to do so during late-night thoughts, questioning the so-called what-ifs.

But I knew I was just wishing for something that wasn't gonna come true.

She won't show up at my doorstep, telling me that it was all a mistake that she left.

She won't come back running to me, with her tear-stained cheeks, telling me that my presence alone already soothes the raging chaos within her. That I was her home.

Because if I was really home to her at one point, she wouldn't have left me done and dusted.

I flickered my eyes up to meet Jasper's only to see he was already staring at me, a solemn expression evident in his typically beaming eyes as he put a hand on my shoulder.

Squeezing it gently as he heaves out a deep breath "It's time, Evan."

I swallowed painfully at his words, not because I wanted to deny them, but because for the first time in so long, I was finally willing to take them into reconsideration.

To face my reality, the next stage in my life despite how much the thought pained me.

Because I knew one way or another, this had to be done.

I nodded my head "I know, I know it is."

*  *  *

It was only until 1:00 AM that I found myself in the comfort of my own room.

Large enough to fit a bed, a desk, a closet filled with a bunch of new clothes I was planning to wear just in case I finally got my shit together and went out into the world, as a new man and all, only to end up resorting to a constant cycle of sweatpants, hoodies and maybe a few jeans and button-ups whenever I feel like going back to the club to get wasted at 10:00 PM.

Other than that, there wasn't a lot that I brought with me from my parent's house. I discarded half of my belongings, donated them, gave some to friends, and just kept it minimal. I'm not intending to keep things that held some sort of sentimental value, considering I didn't wanna dwell too much on them to the point I have no choice but to look back on the past.

Even if I did, I mostly kept them hidden.

I walked over to my bed, laying on the freshly washed sheets after this morning's escapade, as I never wanted to sleep on a bed that had a stranger's remaining perspiration on it.

I slumped myself onto the soft mattress, replaying my discussion with Jasper an hour ago like a mantra. Thinking that if now is the right time to move on, how soon is now?

I've been holding off on the idea of moving forward with my life a thousand times at least, promising myself that it's going to happen on this day or the day after that, but never really following through with it in the end. I procrastinated on getting my life back on track.

It was promise after promise, and if there's one thing I despised, it was not staying true to one's words, and I've become what I hated the most.

Telling myself that I was going to pull myself out of this never-ending torture, that it was going to be soon, and then soon turned into months which then turned into a year.

I need to turn over a new page, rip apart the previous chapters of my life if I have to, and all I know is that I need this. I need to reevaluate my life and not just say things in hopes it'll happen one day. Because if it wasn't going to happen on behalf of someone I wished would've come back, I at least needed to rely on myself and go through with what I want.

I rolled over on the side of my bed, outstretching my bed to reach over and grab my phone that was placed on the night-stand beside me, but instead, a folder fell over and I looked down.

I was instantly greeted with the bold, white fonts plastered on the front of the NYU acceptance letter I had received a couple of days ago, one that I applied to last February when the pending urge to move on with my life got way too strong and I had somehow gotten the guts to apply to some colleges in New York, and some of the ones that I got accepted to was NYU.

I actually dreaded getting the response, not even wanting to get accepted at all because then I'd have an excuse to not go but almost as if the universe itself had also gotten sick with my endless stalling, it decided that no, this needs to happen.

So when it arrived in the mail I just didn't know what to feel, I went spiraling and getting flat-out drunk by drinking my problems away like I normally would and trying to avoid the reality of the situation.

Which was that I had the potential, but I was just too scared of putting it into good use.

Sighing, I gathered the folder and what it contained and put it back on my nightstand, and once again reached out for my phone as I held it in my hand, inspecting it with a pondering gaze.

And just as I felt the crippling dread start to consume me once more, my eyes drifted back to the acceptance letter, practically burning holes into my skull as I shook my head.

No, you need to do this.

Despite knowing they were probably asleep by now, if I don't put this whole plan into motion right now, I was going to inevitably cast it aside the following morning.

So I need to do this if I know that this time, I am serious about what I want.

Though it did shock me when the receiver at the other end of the call picked up, the sound of my mother's familiar yet groggy voice speaking through the phone "Evan? Honey? Is that you?"

"Mom, yeah, hi." I greeted as I heard rustling in the background.

"What are you doing up so late? It's like," she paused as I heard a soft thump "1:30 AM, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

I shut my eyes, readying myself on what I'm about to say next because if I was going to finalize this decision, I was going to have to confide in my parents eventually.

And just like that, I finally uttered the words that I'm pretty sure fully awoke my mom from her slumber "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"... I think I'm finally ready to go to New York."