The Toxic Ex

His Name Was Chace

The movies lied. I thought first love was supposed to be innocent, wholesome, and perfect, and ends as a beautiful tragedy. It was not beautifully tragic. It was a pathetic mess. It’s been two weeks since the breakup, and I don’t know what to feel. Pain? Relief? The past year has been a whirlwind, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me round and round till I was sick of it. Yet somehow it took me so long to let go.

I still remember the night we met like it was yesterday. We were both at a mutual friend’s party, and he was sitting on the couch right across me. He made the silliest jokes, and had a subtle charm. That night, he piqued my interest. It wasn’t anything big. He just seemed like a person who was fun to be around. And surely, he was. Looking back, maybe it wasn’t just because of his silly charm. I thought he was cute. He was dressed neatly in a simple white shirt and was well groomed. His eyes would almost disappear when he laughed, and his cheeks would flush a little. I left the room for a bit that time to grab myself a drink. I stood in front of the bar, poured myself a drink, and downed a shot. I felt the world spin a bit. It had been a while since I last had a few drinks. When I was about to turn back, he was suddenly right there beside me. It seemed like he was trying to get himself a drink, too. I walked right past him, although it felt like I was floating from all the alcohol. Everything was starting to feel like a dream. No, really. I was getting both tipsy and sleepy. I tried to stumble my way towards the living room when I heard him chuckle from behind me.

I turned to look at him and he said, “Oh, sorry, you just look like you forgot how to walk.” I laughed. “I don’t really drink much,” I tried to say as properly as I could. He walked closer to me, put his hand behind my right shoulder, and guided me back to the living room. “I know,” he said, “You’ve been around the smart kids till senior year, right? I know. I know you.” He let go of me right when we arrived. There were more than ten people in the room, and a few of them stared at us as we entered. We went separate ways and sat across each other again. He never glanced at me. He gave off a familiar yet distant vibe that drew me in.

“Chace,” someone called out. His name was Chace. Since that night, the months that followed felt like a tug-of-war. It was an endless cycle of pulling me in and pushing me away. He drove me crazy. I was a high school senior when we met. Now, I’m a university freshman. And I’m single. Thinking back about us, all the shitty feelings came back to me, and I was about to tear up again when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Azrielle. He’s a friend.

“Let’s go,” he said. Class had just ended then, and the students were already leaving the lecture hall. How long was I spacing out?

“Where?”

He jokingly made a sarcastic face. “To eat, of course.”

I smiled. It’s only been a month since my freshman classes started, and I’ve only been tagging along with whoever and to wherever. Being in a new place surrounded by new faces felt so alienating. This was the first time somebody’s ever gone out of his way to be with me—like an actual friend, and not just a passing colleague from the same class. This was the difference between tagging along and having someone actually want you around—someone who went through the trouble to get to know you, and you specifically. My heart warmed up for the first time in weeks. “What should we eat? I’m starving,” I replied with a giggle.

“Please. When are you not starving?” I playfully pinched his arm in return for his joke. He laughed and swore to stop. “Hmm,” he looked at me and said, “Spicy shrimp pasta from the café across the north entrance?”

I gasp. “Wait, that actually sounds so good!” We made our way towards the school parking lot. Walking all the way to the campus’ north entrance seemed too troublesome.

“I know,” he shrugged, proud. “You said you were craving their spicy shrimp pasta in Biology the other day.” My eyes widened, my cheekbones rose, and my eyes narrow as I smile the widest I’ve smiled in days. “What? That’s crazy. How do you even remember that?” We were talking with a few other people in a group, and it was only a passing comment I thought nobody had paid mind to.

“It’s something we high IQ people do,” he joked. How is it that a friend can treat me better than Chace ever could?

My smile turned sour when that thought came to mind. It was never hard to show even the slightest regard for me. Meanwhile, Azi does it so effortlessly. How can someone I met a month ago show more care for me than my boyfriend of 12 months?

We spotted Azi’s white Honda Civic and we walked towards it as he unlocked the doors with a click of his key button. I felt like I was dragging my feet as I drowned myself in a moment of self-depreciation. I was the pathetic one.

We entered the car and settled into our seats as Azi turned on the car engine for what felt like 5 minutes. I tried my hardest to hide that I wasn’t feeling okay. But Azi suddenly looked at me. He stared at me as if he was observing me. After a moment, he went and asked, “Are you okay?” His voice and his face were filled with so much concern that I felt cornered.

I laughed it off and said, “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hmm,” he tilted his head as he continued to stare at me, “You’ve been acting kind of off. Did something happen?” He stared into my eyes as if the answer was in them. All I could do was stay silent because I couldn’t answer him honestly. My empty eyes stared back into his eyes—pretty eyes he got from his Korean mom. I was sad, yet also weirdly glad. Someone actually cared enough about why I was acting off.

If it were Chace, he would’ve let me be. He never wanted to deal with what I had to say.

After a few moments of a stare-down, I finally replied. “I broke up with Chace.”

There was silence in the car. He was considerate. He didn’t want to overwhelm me with his surprise, questions, and reactions. “I…,” I falter, “I just…”

Suddenly, he pulled me in for a hug. I guess silence was the way to do it. Saying one more word about it would’ve torn me apart all over again. Azi’s chest strangely felt like home. More like home than Chace ever could be to me. Chace was a wonderland, with both fun and scary rides.

Azi’s embrace seemed to break down my walls, but I forced myself not to cry. Or was there no tears left to cry anymore? I stayed in his arms for longer than intended.

He smells like expensive perfume, I thought while my face was buried in his chest.

Thank god his car windows are tinted.