Late night calls, begging to just hear your voice and to see you, drunken breakdowns in the middle of his living room as he thought about you at the sight of a random book you used to read over and over that sat on his shelf, slamming his phone flat on any surface anytime he saw you post on instagram, pretending to have moved on and to have been living a better life than him since everything happened

It had only been a few months (three months and two weeks, but who’s counting? Certainly not Andrew, that’s for sure.) since you and him parted ways. You had cut things off because of the imbalance in feeling and contact. With him being away for concerts, interview and other things that came with being a singer, you became detached because he was away for so long. For weeks on end. It was a gentle and amicable break up… that’s what you thought, at least.

You thought it was calm until he called you just a few days later, begging you to come back, begging to hear your voice and see your face, begging to hold you and kiss you, cherish you in the ways he didn’t because he was away so often. But you simply declined, hanging up the phone, leaving him to sob to himself in his bed. He really did feel pathetic.

The house was empty without you. More like his house, now. It was bare. Quiet. None of your humming or random out loud thoughts to yourself that he would quietly snicker to himself about due to the absurdity of some of them. The bed was cold without you. Freezing, ice cold, even. He hated everything about everything. He hated being without you. His other half.

So, he knew that he was making a dumb decision, writing out a while devotion to you, preparing to read it to you while he was insanely wasted. The phone rang once… twice.. a few dozen more times is what it felt like. Then you answered, already prepared for the sob fest and to gently tell him that everything was over, but he persisted,

“Love, I can’t go on like this anymore. I miss your weight in the bed, your words muttered that gives me a little peek into what’s going on in your beautiful mind. But i hate that you won’t see it in me to give me another chance. I hate that I wasn’t good to you. I hate… i hate that my greatest enemy is you. You’re my biggest weakness.”

He says, more like laments, swallowing as you stammer, gathering your thoughts.