"I spend my nights wondering if you'll ever come back to me."
Dominic
𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

**Just before we start the chapter, I am giving everyone a trigger warning of attempted suicide and self harm. I have tried to write this matter delicately and to the best of my abilities. Your life matters, it matters to me and everyone around you!  

There's something about addiction they don't tell you. It's never a choice.One day, you're fine, and the next, you're reaching for something to get through the day. A little something to make things easier. Then, suddenly, you need it just to feel normal.

Addiction steals your soul long before it destroys your body. I sold mine at the age of thirteen.

I wasn't the son my parents wanted—not the one my dad envisioned. I was too complicated. I could pretend all I wanted that he might walk through the door one day and remember he had a son, but reality would always slap me back. I was an inconvenience.

There was only one person who made me want to stop, who made me want to get better. Two years later, her beautiful face haunts me every second. I can still hear her whisper, "I think I'm in love with you, Dom."

I wanted to scream at her to take it back. She couldn't love me. I didn't deserve her. But I couldn't. I was selfish, and I wanted her. I loved her so desperately that I couldn't deny myself, or deny her, even knowing I would be the one to destroy us.

I couldn't deny myself one last time with her before she would hate me.

London was supposed to be where I'd get my act together, where my parents sent me for my "own good." Bullshit. They just couldn't deal with me anymore. When I first heard about their decision, I was livid. I screamed, desperate not to be torn away from her, but my mother begged me to listen. When her first tear fell, I fell silent. I would never hurt my mom. I never wanted to. Maybe I was fucked up, I knew I was fucked up.

What hurt the most that night was the look of resignation on her face. She had given up on me, and I didn't even blame her. I accepted moving to London, living with Willa's aunt, knowing it was better for her—because if we kept going down this destructive path, I would eventually ruin her. I loved her too much to let that happen. Willa Myers didn't realize it, but she was the sun in my life. And I would only destroy her.

So I left, and I left her my heart in the process. I let her hate me. And I distracted myself with that realisation by consuming more, by partying more, I let girls touch me when I was high, I ran from her.

Turns out, no amount of drugs, no amount of distraction, could erase her.

Could erase Willa.

Maybe that was my fault. Maybe I never truly tried to let go. Instead, I tattooed her memory on my skin. A willow tree, stretching across my back—her. Forever.

I wanted to die in London. I wanted to escape the pain, the suffering, the hell I was trapped in. So, I tried to end it, I tired, I tried to die by a slit of my wrist. . But in that moment, her face flashed in my mind—her angelic face—and I knew I would rather live in my own hell than never see her again.

Two years. That's all it took for my mother to decide I had to come back. Truthfully, I didn't think I had the strength to stay away much longer.

Oakridge felt smaller than I remembered.

Walking into the school I despised, seeing my old classmates, feeling the weight of their eyes on me-the nostalgia hit me.

I knew the second she entered the classroom. The questions about London stopped. The air stilled. I didn't think anyone knew about Willa and me, but I was wrong. We hadn't been subtle.

I don't move, I keep my body relaxed. My fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the desk, my expression blank. Indifferent.

And then she saw me.

My breath lodges in my throat from the sight of her, my memory doesn't serve her justice. It's well known that Willa Myers was the most beautiful girl in the school, yet every time I look at her I am knocked off my feet.

Her golden hair was lighter, longer, and her legs... god. She was perfect, more beautiful than I ever remembered. She was perfect, devastatingly beautiful. I saw her, I saw right through Willa Myers and the light she carried around with her was so much more damn beautiful than anything I'd ever seen.

I didn't just fall in love with her—I unraveled into her. Slowly at first, like a thread being pulled loose, until there was nothing left of me that wasn't hers.

Her brown eyes go wide, just for a second. A flash of something—shock, anger, maybe even fear—before she locks it down.

Good girl.

But it's not enough. I see the way her breath catches, the way her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag. And for a moment, it's like we're sixteen again. Like she's mine. Like I didn't shatter everything we were and leave her behind.

I wait. I wait for her to sit, to speak, to do anything.

She walks past me, with a cold indifference. Not one word. Not one single word.

The bell rings, but I don't hear it. All I hear is my own heartbeat, hammering too fast in my chest.

I should stay away. I should leave her alone. I've destroyed her enough.

But fuck, the scent of her perfume is my favourite drug, and all I want to do is kidnap her, lock us in a room, and never let her go.

I barley register Alec slapping me on the back as he shoves the seat back next to me, he has a smirk on his face and I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the asshole.

"Long time no see." He grins.

"How you been?"

"Been taking good care of your lovely lady." He teases.

I bite back a growl, barely holding back from punching him in the face, forgetting about our twelve-year-old friendship.

"I was talking about your motorbike, fucker," he chuckles.

I almost punch him for that, too. But for once, I let it slide.

I spend the rest of class with my arms crossed, jaw locked, ignoring the curious glances, the hushed whispers.

It doesn't fucking matter. None of these people matter, but her.

As soon as the bell rings, I turn around with the intention of saying to something to her.

Anything, I need to speak to her. I need to hear her voice.

Before I can even blink, she's pushing me out of the way and storming out of the class, not even sparing me a glance. I fight the urge to chase after her, rooted to the spot. But then someone punches me in the shoulder. I turn, ready to curse them out, when I see the familiar short black hair.

"Alex." I greet.

"Yeah, missed you too, dick," she says, giving me the friendliest greeting I'm going to get from her before she strides off, heading after Willa. It's not lost on me that when I left, I didn't just betray Willa—I betrayed the closest friends I had left.

I shove those thoughts to the back of my mind and head for the door, not wanting anyone else to catch me in the hall.

I make it halfway down the hall before I hear a voice behind me.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal asshole."

I don't stop walking, but a tightness in my chest eases slightly. "Roman."

Growing up, Willa was my best friend, my heart, my soul, my fucking light. But Roman, Roman never called me out on my addiction, never tried to fix me—he was just there, a constant.

He didn't push, didn't ask for more than I was willing to give. He understood. I owed him more than words could express, though I never said it. We didn't do that. But he knew.

"Dominic," he mocks, matching my stride. "You gonna tell me why the hell you're back, or am I supposed to guess?"

"You can guess," I say flatly.

He snorts, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "You look like shit," he smirks, but there was something behind it. Something unreadable.

"You still have a face I wanna punch, so I guess nothing's changed," I muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

Roman just huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "It's good to have you back, man."

I step into the cafeteria, and it's like stepping into a war zone, except the weapons are stares and whispered conversations. I don't give a damn about any of them. They can talk. They always do.

Roman walks beside me, completely unfazed, like my return isn't the most interesting thing to happen in this miserable town in years.

"Same table?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

Roman grins. "Of course. Tradition."

He leads the way to our usual spot, a round table in the back corner, away from the chaos of the lunch line and the obnoxious laughter of the jocks. It's where we always sat—me, Roman, Alec, Alex, and...

Her.

I see Willa before she sees me. She's smiling at something Alec said, her face lighting up that I feel it in my soul. But somethings different, I can tell, her eyes are harder, her smile dimmer.

She looks colder.

Roman drops into his seat like nothing's wrong, like there isn't a fucking war waging inside my chest.

Alec is already grinning at me, like he's been waiting for this moment.

I take the empty seat beside him. Across from me, Willa stiffens, her hands curling into fists in her lap.

Alex raises a brow, looking between the two of us before sighing dramatically. "Well, this is awkward as hell."

"Awkward?" Alec laughs. "This is entertaining."

"Shut the fuck up," Roman says, but there's no bite to it.

The tension at the table is suffocating. I force myself to look at her, really look at her, because she won't look at me at all.

"You look good."

Willa tilts her head, her lips curling into something almost amused. "I know."

Alec coughs, barely hiding his laugh. Roman mutters something under his breath, shaking his head.

I should let it go. I should be the bigger person.

But I never was.

"Miss me?" I ask, my voice quiet, low.

She doesn't blink. Doesn't hesitate.

"No."

It shouldn't sting. It really shouldn't fucking sting.

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

She smiles, slow and sharp, like she knows she's won. Then she turns back to Alex, like I never even existed.

Like she never loved me.

And for the first time in years, I realize—maybe she really doesn't anymore.

Maybe I lost her for good.

𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

Okay guys so I know we r all going to hate Logan because of this chapter and even though most of it is well deserved...pls remember that everything I write has a reason!!

Logan is a good guy and a good father in some aspects....

Maybe I lost her for good.