30 f*****g days. One f*****g month without talking to Ryans and it felt like it was one messed up year.
I didn’t think a month could feel this heavy. But somehow, each day that passed pressed on me harder than the last. It was like someone had stacked weights on my chest and forgotten to take them off.
Not talking to Ryan was… suffocating. God, it was f*****g suffocating.
I’d walk past the rink on my way to class and hear the scrape of skates, the echo of pucks against boards, and my chest would tighten until I had to look away.
Sometimes I thought about texting him and just say something stupid like, “Hey, did you eat today?” but my fingers froze every time I tried.
Because how do you talk to someone after you ran away from them for weeks without any reasonable explanation? After
