Sparkles' POV
My boots scuff against the cracked pavement, each step heavier than the last, as if the weight of my eight-hour shift at The Rusty Anchor is dragging me into the earth. The bar's neon buzz and the tang of spilled beer still cling to my skin, mixing with the late-night chill. My shoulders ache, my throat's raw from shouting orders over the music, and all I can think about is collapsing onto the lumpy couch in our cramped living room.
Mat's probably sprawled there already, scrolling through his phone, maybe with a cold beer from the fridge. The thought of him of us warms me just enough to keep moving toward the peeling front door of the house we've shared for the past year.
I fumble for my keys, the jangle loud in the quiet street, but before I can slide them into the lock, the door swings open. Light spills out, sharp and yellow, and my heart lurches not with relief, but with something colder, something that claws at my chest and freezes me in place.
Mat's there, his broad frame filling the doorway, but he's not alone.
Joana, with her perfect blonde waves and that smug, campus-queen smile clings to him, her lips locked on his in a kiss that's anything but a goodbye peck.
Her manicured hands curl around his neck, and he's leaning into her, one hand on her waist, the other braced against the doorframe like he's claiming it. Claiming her.
The world tilts, my stomach twisting into a knot so tight I can barely breathe. My keys slip from my fingers, clattering to the ground, and the sound snaps their heads apart.
"Sparkles?" Mat's voice is sharp, not guilty, not soft.
His dark eyes narrow, and Joana steps back, smirking, wiping her glossy lips with the back of her hand like she's savoring the moment. She doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.
"What… what the hell is this?" My voice cracks, barely above a whisper, but it's all I can manage.
My legs tremble, and I grip the strap of my bag to keep from collapsing. The pain is a living thing, clawing up from my chest to my throat, hot and suffocating.
Mat scoffs, crossing his arms, his jaw tight.
"What's it look like? Jesus, Sparkles, don't make a scene." Joana lingers behind him, adjusting her purse, her eyes flicking over me like I'm a stray dog who wandered too close.
"A scene?" I choke out, stepping forward, my hands shaking. "You're kissing her in our house, and I'm making a scene? Mat, how could you…"
"Oh, spare me the drama!" he snaps, his voice booming now, slicing through the night. "You're always so damn miserable, you know that? Whining about your shifts, your exams, your everything. I'm sick of it. You're suffocating me, clinging to me like some pathetic leech!"
Each word hits like a punch, stealing my breath. I open my mouth to fight back, to tell him he's wrong, that I've been killing myself to keep us afloat, but my throat closes up. Tears burn my eyes, and I hate how weak they make me feel. "Mat, I…I trusted you," I manage, my voice small, breaking. "We're supposed to be…"
"Supposed to be what?" he cuts in, stepping closer, looming over me. His face is all hard lines, no trace of the guy who used to laugh with me over late-night takeout. "You think I'm gonna keep dragging your useless ass around? We're done, Sparkles. Done. Get your shit and get out."
The world spins. "Out?" I whisper, my heart plummeting. "This is my home too"
"Not anymore." He jerks his thumb toward the street, his voice cold as steel. "Go cry somewhere else. I'm done carrying you."
Joana giggles, actually giggles and the sound is a knife twisting in my gut. She saunters past me, her perfume choking the air, and tosses a "Good luck, sweetie" over her shoulder as she struts toward her car. Mat doesn't even look at her. He's staring at me, his eyes empty of anything but contempt, waiting for me to break.
I don't. Not yet. I swallow the sob clawing at my throat, grab my keys from the ground, and stumble back, my legs barely holding me up. The door slams shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot. I'm alone on the street, the night swallowing me whole, with nowhere to go but away.
~
The street blurs past me, a haze of streetlights and shadows, as I stumble toward Michelle's place, my bag slung haphazardly over my shoulder, its weight nothing compared to the ache crushing my chest. Mat's words miserable, useless, clingy loop in my head, each one a fresh cut, and the image of him kissing Joana at our door burns behind my eyes. I barely register the cold biting at my knuckles or the tears streaking down my face, hot and relentless. My body's moving on autopilot, carrying me to the only safe place I have left.
Michelle's apartment building looms ahead, its chipped paint and flickering porch light a beacon in the dark. I climb the stairs, legs shaking, and pound on her door, my fist trembling as much as my heart. The door swings open, and there she is Michelle, in her oversized hoodie, her dark curls pulled into a messy bun, her eyes widening as she takes me in.
"Sparkles? Oh my God, what's wrong?" Her voice is sharp with worry, and before I can answer, the dam breaks. A sob rips out of me, raw and ugly, and I collapse into her arms, my face pressed against her shoulder. She catches me, strong and steady, pulling me inside and kicking the door shut. I'm crying so hard I can't breathe, my whole body shaking as I cling to her like she's the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
"Shh, shh, I've got you," Michelle murmurs, her arms tight around me as she guides me to the couch. We sink down together, and I curl into her, my tears soaking her hoodie. She doesn't let go, just strokes my hair, her touch warm and grounding. "What happened, babe? Talk to me."
I try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked gasp. My throat's too tight, my heart too heavy. Finally, I manage to stammer, "M-Mat… he… he was with Joana. Kissing her. At our house. And then he…he called me miserable, useless… said I'm clingy and kicked me out." The words spill out, jagged and painful, and saying them makes it real all over again. I bury my face in my hands, sobbing harder.
Michelle's body stiffens, and I feel the shift in her energy before she even speaks. "That absolute prick," she hisses, her voice dripping with venom. "Mat? That lowlife, cheating scumbag? Oh, hell no. And Joana? That fake, plastic Barbie wannabe strutting around campus like she owns it? I swear, Sparkles, they deserve each other, two walking garbage cans playing house." She pulls back just enough to look at me, her brown eyes blazing. "He had the audacity to call you miserable? You, who's been carrying his sorry ass for months? Babe, he's projecting so hard he could start a movie theater."
I choke out a laugh through my tears, the sound more like a hiccup, and Michelle's face softens. She cups my cheeks, wiping at the tears with her thumbs. "Listen to me," she says, her voice fierce but gentle. "You are not any of those things he said. You're Sparkles, for God's sake you light up every room you walk into. Mat's just too much of a spineless loser to handle you. And Joana? Pfft, she's just a shiny distraction for his fragile ego. You're worth a million of them both."
Her words wrap around me like a blanket, warm but not enough to chase away the cold ache inside. I sniffle, leaning into her touch. "I don't know what to do, Mish. He kicked me out. I don't have anywhere to go."
"You're staying here," she says without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument. "As long as you need. We'll figure this out together, okay? That jerk doesn't get to break you. Not on my watch." She pulls me back into a hug, and I let myself melt into her, the tears still falling but slower now, steadied by her strength.
"Joana's probably laughing about this," I mumble against her shoulder, my voice thick with shame.
Michelle snorts, pulling back to give me a look. "Oh, please. Joana's the kind of girl who peaks in college and spends the rest of her life posting filtered selfies to chase clout. She's a walking cliché, and Mat's her perfect idiot match. Let them crash and burn together. You're gonna come out of this stronger, Sparkles. I promise."
I nod, even though I don't fully believe her yet. The pain's still too raw, the betrayal too fresh. But here, wrapped in Michelle's arms, with her fierce love holding me together, I feel the tiniest flicker of hope like maybe, just maybe, I'll survive this after all.