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Elliot stays standing there for a few minutes, feeling numb as the door shuts and he hears Nico's car rev up in the driveway through his open window. They had a routine where he'd flip him off from inside the house and he'd give him the finger back-- but his heart wasn't in it today.
It was good--he had fun, but his heart yearned for more. To be held and loved, not just used for pleasure in secret. He doesn't realize he's crying silently until he tastes salt on his upper lip. He pushes his glasses up and wipes at his eyes, smearing the eyeliner there onto his palms.
"Fuck. Fuck!"
He takes out his phone, texts things like, i can't do this anymore and it's over, this isn't fair to anna before tossing his phone across the room and falling to his knees, legs hitting the wooden floor hard enough to bruise.
Will shit always be this way?
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