Boys Like Him

Gaslighting

I had spent the entire morning preparing myself in the solitude of my room, mentally bracing for what lay ahead. In the corner of the dimly lit kitchen, trash bags loomed like neglected sentinels, stuffed to the brim and waiting for their inevitable disposal. Today was the day, I promised myself-I would finally take out the trash, swing by the nearby café for a steaming cup of coffee, and return home without letting my thoughts stray anywhere near the memories of Lloyd. It was just a simple, mundane task, one that shouldn't hold any weight.

With resolve, I tied the crinkled top of the bag, feeling the rough texture of the plastic against my fingers as I balanced it precariously in my arms. The scent of discarded food and stale coffee lingered, a reminder of my procrastination.

I took a deep breath and pulled open the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet hallway.

I halted in my steps, caught off guard by the sight before me. He was slumped against the wall, resembling a lost puppy in a rainstorm, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms languidly hanging over them. His hair was in disarray, a chaotic tangle that framed his face, while dark circles under his bloodshot eyes told a stark tale of sleepless nights and inner turmoil. The expression on his face showed a mix of longing and regret, along with a clear hint of guilt that hung in the air.

I stood frozen in place, gripping the trash bag tightly as if it could protect me from his looming presence. An icy knot twisted painfully in my chest, and my heart raced wildly, threatening to betray my facade of calm. Despite the fear coursing through me, I clenched my jaw, willing myself to remain composed.

"Cherry," he said softly, voice breaking, almost whining. "Please... just hear me out."

I laughed. "Lloyd... I don't have anything to say to you," I snapped, trying to sound stronger than I felt.

"I miss you," he whispered, voice cracking. "I can't... I can't just let this end like this. Not without explaining. Not without you knowing how I feel."

My hands tightened around the bag. God, he thinks he can guilt me into melting.

I stepped back. "Then stay there. I'm... I'm not talking to you."

I exhaled sharply, trying to steady my shaking hands. "I'm taking out the trash. That's it. Then I'm coming back inside. Don't follow me."

"I'll wait," he replied quietly, almost a whisper. "I'll wait all day if I have to. Just... let me explain."

I ground my teeth.

He looked up at me then, eyes glassy.

My legs threatened to give out. My chest felt like it had been smashed into pieces. Part of me wanted to run to him, wanted to apologize, wanted to melt into that pitiful, desperate expression. But I didn't.

I spun on my heel, stomping down the steps, muttering, "I don't owe you a thing," and disappeared around the corner.

He could sit there all day crying and pleading, and it still wouldn't matter.

"Nyelle," his voice came, low, almost apologetic, but there was that undertone that made your chest ache.

I swung around, fists tightening. "Why are you following me, Lloyd? Didn't you get it the first time?"

"I'm not leaving," he replied simply. "Not until you hear me out. Please... just five minutes."

I laughed bitterly. "Five minutes? That's your whole explanation?"

"Just... five minutes," he repeated, voice trembling. "I know I screwed up. I know I made things... messy. But you're not wrong to be upset. You're not overreacting. You just don't know everything yet. Not the whole picture."

My stomach sank. I wanted to scream. I wanted to push him off me and tell him to go rot somewhere, but something in his tone... it was like a magnet, pulling my restraint and reason into a fight against my heart.

"Everything?" I spat. "You expect me to just forgive you because you're standing there with puppy eyes and telling me I don't understand?"

"Nyelle..." he said softly, crouching so we were eye level, dark eyes glossy, raw. "Listen to me. Brianna... she's not what you think. She's my mom's best friend's daughter and her favorite. She's been coming over to the house because my mom... she just adores her. I didn't plan it. I didn't even know she was going to be there when you saw her. I swear."

I blinked. My chest twisted.

"You expect me to believe that?" I whispered, voice cracking.

"I know it looks bad," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "It looks terrible. But Nyelle... if you really knew everything about my life, you'd understand why some things just... happen. And why I can't always tell you everything. I have my own stuff, my own family... responsibilities you don't even know about. Brianna showing up isn't because of anything she or I did. It's because of my mom. My mom cares about her, and I can't... can't tell my mom to stop loving someone just because you think it's inconvenient, and I didn't tell you because... I wanted to protect you from nonsense. From worry. I wish I could make it simpler, I wish I could just... shield you from all of it."

I blinked, heart, stuttering. My pulse twisted with anger and confusion. "Protect me? By letting her flirt with you in front of me? By making me feel like a fool?"

He leaned closer, lowering his voice until it was almost a growl. "Nyelle... I never wanted you to feel like a fool. I... I didn't know how to explain it. I couldn't. I didn't want you thinking the worst of me. That's all. And yet, here you are... beautiful, stubborn, mad at me... and I can't stand not seeing you, not knowing you're okay."

"I... " My voice faltered. Rage warred with confusion. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe I overreacted.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he continued, taking a careful step closer. "I don't want to lose you, Nyelle. Not over something you don't understand. Not over... over a situation you weren't meant to see like that. You're my everything. And I know I've been a mess, but look at me, I'm here, right now, telling you the truth as much as I can."

The rational part of my mind screamed: This is gaslighting. He's giving you enough to make you doubt yourself. But my heart... oh, my heart ached in the exact way he wanted it to.

"You think you can just... swoop in here, make me feel like I overreacted, and everything's okay?" I hissed, shaking my head, backing away.

"I'm not asking for everything to be okay right now," he responded, voice soft, eyes burning. "I'm just asking... You are not to make a decision based on what you saw for ten minutes. Trust me, Nyelle. Trust me, just this once."

I pressed my palms to my eyes, whispering under my breath, "I can't... I can't... not today."

He shifted closer, and suddenly his voice dropped, low and sultry, that voice I knew could melt me from the inside out.

"Nyelle... Cherry," he whispered, his words brushing my ear, sending shivers I didn't want to admit I felt. "Do you have any idea how much I missed you?"

I swallowed hard, trying to step back, trying to keep my chest from rising in guilty anticipation. But his presence was a cage and a pull all at once.

"Not knowing where you were... not knowing if you were okay... it drove me crazy. Every second felt like an eternity without you."

I froze. My body betrayed me, heart hammering, legs trembling, breath catching. Every rational thought I clung to screamed: He treated you like s**t. He's manipulative. Do not let him in.

And yet... I couldn't resist.

His hand found mine, brushing over my knuckles. "I don't expect you to forgive me instantly... I just needed you to know how lost I felt."

I felt the walls I'd built crumble. My chest tightened, tears threatening. And then his eyes locked onto mine. I swear, in that moment, the world outside didn't exist. Only him. Only that impossible pull between us.

Without thinking, I leaned into him, and his lips were on mine before I even realized I'd allowed it.

I felt tears slip down my cheeks, and I whispered against him, voice breaking: "I... I missed you too, you asshole..."