Page 111 of F*ckboys

Her loss. His loss.Theirloss.

Oh god, I hate that there's athem.

Chapter 62

Aksel

My phone buzzes. Heart racing, I grab it, expecting a message from Fallon confirming coffee and checking to see how my day is going.

There it is. A text, short and sharp as a blade. But not the one I expected.

Fallon: We're done.

The words slice into me, cold and merciless. My chest seizes as I read them again and again, trying to comprehend how two simple words can sever what we had.

How did we get here? Weeks ago, we were tangled in each other's arms, whispering promises of forever. Now this—a death knell delivered via text. Fallon has been acting strange, but thisseems extra cold. I was trying to give her space, not anticipating her completely eliminating me out of her life via a text message.

Fingers numb, I call her. Each ring ratchets my panic higher. Voicemail. I call again. And again. Nothing.

She's gone. Vanished from my life as swiftly as she entered it. I'm adrift, unmoored from the one thing anchoring me to solid ground lately.

My condo feels empty, echoes of laughter that once filled these rooms now mocking me. I wander aimlessly, searching for clues, any scrap of her remaining. But like Fallon herself, all traces have disappeared.

I find one of her shirts in my laundry hamper and hold it against my face. Her scent lingers on the fabric, a ghostly reminder of embraces that will never come again. I breathe it in, clinging to the fading wisps of her essence.

In the closet, a flash of red catches my eye—the dress she wore on our dinner cruise date. I snatch it and crush the silk in my fist, ripping it to shreds. Needing to destroy something, anything, as my world crumbles around me.

Shreds of scarlet flutter to the floor. But no amount of ruin can fill the void within, or erase the memory of how she looked in that dress. How she made me feel. Whole. Alive. Loved.

I sink down amid the ruins, clutching at scraps that can't be pieced back together. The thin, ragged edges dig into my palm, almost drawing blood, and I welcome the pain—a distraction from the ache in my chest.

The sting fades quickly, but the hollow remains.

Panic sets in, and I dial Fallon's number again, desperation evident in my rapid keystrokes. The phone rings, but each unanswered tone amplifies the growing void within.

"Fallon, please...don't do this. We can work it out. Just talk to me." My voice cracks, emotions warring inside me. Anger,sorrow, disbelief—they surge and collide, riptides that threaten to drag me under.

The call goes to voicemail. I dial again. And again. Hoping against hope that she'll answer, and this will all turn out to be some sick joke or a simple misunderstanding. But there is only silence. An impenetrable wall of quiet where her laughter once flowed.

Message after message, I beg and plead. Demand answers. Question what went wrong. Apologize for mistakes I'm not even sure I made.

Each voicemail and text message lays my heart bare, stripping away layers of pride until only raw need remains. The need to hear her voice again. To look into eyes that once gazed at me with tenderness, but I imagine are now only cold and distant.

But there are no replies. No explanations. No mercy. Just the steady march of time carrying her further away with each unanswered call. I almost wish she'd block me again so I couldn't keep leaving messages. Because I'm compelled to reach out to any and all lifelines that connect us, and might put me in her path once more.

The void expands, threatening to swallow me whole. But I cling to the fraying edges of our bond, unwilling to surrender so easily.

Unwilling to believe she could dismiss me this way, as if I never mattered at all.

Love leaves us in the end. But not like this. Anything but this.

Fallon's silence is deafening. A condemnation without trial, a sentence carried out with ruthless efficiency. She has made her judgment, and I am found wanting. For what? I'm clueless.

The calls continue to go unanswered. But I keep dialing. Hoping in vain that she will show me mercy and end this torture. Grant me closure, if nothing else, and release me from this limbo of unknowing.

Each ring echoes mockingly in the emptiness she left behind. A reminder of joy now turned to ashes. Of a heart offered up and so callously crushed. Maybe I deserve this, karma for my immature actions in high school and college.

But deserved or not, I can't bear this. I need answers.

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