"We can't break up."

I'm propping the door open with my foot, Liam standing before me, his eyes pleading and desperate, all traces of the cool, nonchalant boy from yesterday erased. However, I can't help feeling sympathetic when I note his eye bags and windblown hair. It can be pretty tough to fall asleep after a particularly rough day.

"You seemed pretty happy with it last night." Still, I cross my arms, refusing to let myself fall for his soft brown eyes that remind me of chocolate pudding, or the warm smell of brownies that seems to be oozing out of him. How does he smell like brownies? He looks ridiculously attractive but pitifully weary and tired at the same time, and I have to focus extremely hard to remind myself that Liam isn't an ordinary teenager. No, Liam Winters is an actor. And if us actors excel at one thing, it's lying. Schooling our features into a mask of calm? Easy. Pretending to be angry? Even easier. Acting worried and needy? The easiest.

Liam winces, twiddling with his fingers nervously, and I'll give him this—it's a rather odd look on him. Nerves. He's always so put together, charm dialed up to the maximum so that everyone on set loves him. And here he is in front of me, his eyes on the ground and his long, soft fingers rubbing together anxiously. Long, soft fingers that were holding mine just yesterday. Good lord, am I ever going to get over that?

"Well, Elise..."

His use of my name sends a painful pang through my chest. Not Ellie, firefly, feisty, or something else equally ridiculous, just Elise. Not that I don't like my name, but coming from his mouth... it feels wrong. Too formal. Too much like what things used to be.

"...press will hate it." That's all I manage to catch whilst my thoughts are swept elsewhere. To a place where we are friends. To a place where we are more than friends. God, it's always about the media with him. How will his image look? How will our movie play out? Who gives a damn?

"I don't care. If this movie is meant to be, it will go on. People who hate each other can't date." My words come out sharper than I intended, and I feel a twinge of guilt when hurt sparks in Liam's eyes. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, the evident stress on his face and that cute little wrinkle between his eyebrows begging me to listen.

"Elise," he begins in that deep voice of his, and, for a moment, I find my resolve weakening before I pull myself together, remembering that this is all an elaborate performance by an extremely talented actor.

"No."

"But-"

"You said all there was to say last night."

"No, I damn didn't!" Liam pushes his bangs out of his eyes, locking his gaze with mine for the first time in this conversation. "Elise, my dad was lying. You have to believe me," he begs, and it takes everything I have not to cave right then.

I faintly register Mom retreating back inside, muttering something about having to tidy up the kitchen. And then it's just the two of us.

"I don't care, Liam," I start, switching my voice to sound more like his. "Which is precisely what I was explaining to her when you walked up," I mock, in case he's already forgotten his part in the whole debacle.

"I only said that because you suggested that we break up and were glaring like I deserved to die a brutal death," he quips, "You didn't even let me defend myself!"

"Your face said enough."

"I act as a profession!" He throws his hands in the air in irritation. "You know what I think, Elise? I think you're so scared that I'm going to leave you, that you don't even want to give me a chance to stay. Not everything that sounds believable is true. But you want to believe it, don't you? That's why you're pushing me away? So that you can stay alone? You say you don't want to, but I think you'd rather be alone than be left."

My voice drops to a deathly whisper, and that's the precise moment Liam realizes he's lost. "Leave. Just go. You and your stupid father have this weekend. while filming is off for set building, to come up with a plan for damage control before I make a public statement that our relationship is over. Not that it can be if it was never real in the first place."

"Ellie..."

"That's Elise to you. Now leave, before I make you." Finally accepting defeat, Liam walks away, leaving me reeling from all the words he's just thrown at me. You say you don't want to, but I think you'd rather be alone than be left. You're so scared that I'm going to leave you, that you don't even want to give me a chance to stay.

The worst part, I'm not even sure he's wrong.

"Mom?" I call out blindly in the direction of where she's busy in the kitchen. "Do you think I'm too scared of people leaving me?"

My angel of a mother immediately sets down the dishes she's clearing from the sink and looks up at my face, wiping away a little tear I hadn't even noticed was forming.

"Sweetheart," she murmurs, pulling me into a warm embrace and smoothing back my hair as she always used to when I was little, "Why would you ask that?"

"C-can you just answer?" I beseech her, hugging her harder.

"Sometimes." she admits. "But I think you're a strong, independent young lady who doesn't need other people in order to be happy. I won't tell you what to do, but if this is about Liam, I feel the boy may deserve another chance. Keep in mind though, that if he hurts you I have plenty of ice cream and a baseball bat. One is for us and the other is for the back of Liam's head," Mom winks, earning a giggle for me.

"We're going to play baseball while pelting Liam with ice cream?" I ask, feigning innocence, and Mom narrows her eyes at me.

"You know what I do when my daughter is being ridiculous?"

"What?"

"I tickle her."

I may be seventeen, but it would be a lie if I said I didn't shriek and let her chase me until we were both chortling on the couch together. Gods, do I love my mom. How did I get so lucky?

"How about a movie?" I suggest, cuddling up next to her, and she obliges without a complaint, putting on our favorite romcom. We spend the duration of the next three hours rolling our eyes and screaming at the characters in frustration, letting the mind numbing lack of common sense do its course until the ending credits begin.

"As fun as this was," Mom grins, "I think someone else wants your time more than I do." She gestures to my phone which has been vibrating and lighting up nonstop for the course of the movie, and I groan before reaching for it.

"Honey, I'm heading out," Mom tells me, standing up, "I saw the fridge and it's ridiculously empty. What are you going to do when I leave on Monday?"

I nod in acknowledgment, and then suck in a breath and slowly begin scrolling. Who the hell sends three hours worth of messages?!

(3 hours ago) Liam: I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that. Please Elise, don't ignore me.

(3 hours ago) Liam: I can't go talk to my dad after I already told him what would happen if I couldn't convince you. He's not going to take it well.

(2 hours ago) Liam: Are you there? I'm sorry if you're busy but I don't think I saw you even leave your house...

(2 hours ago) Liam: Elise, please, we're going to be so screwed if we don't come up with some sort of plan.

(1 hour ago) Liam: Elise, come on, I don't even care about the movie. Just reply. Reply and then block me. Reply and still hate me. Just please reply soon.

(1 hour ago) Liam: You know what? I'm so sorry I said all that. I would never leave you, FYI. We've only been friends for like 3 weeks. But they were some of the best, most fun weeks of my life.

(30 minutes ago) Liam: Oh screw it, I'll just talk to my dad. If that's what u really want, that's what I'll do. If I'm not out within ten min you can assume he killed me. ;) Cya

Holy shit, is he okay?

(Now) Me: 😳

(Now) Me: Liam, tell me you're joking. I was watching a movie- 😭

I could really use Mom right now, but I guess it's time to toughen up and be, as my ex-best friend Traya would say, an independent slay-queen and save the day. So, as much as it pains me to do so, I drag my lazy limbs off the sofa and grab my purse, shoving my phone in and snatching up a hair tie. It seems I have a movie director to yell at, and if I don't do it with a fashionable ponytail, what kind of statement would that be? Not the kind I want to make.

***

When I finally arrive right outside the director's fancy office, I can hear the sounds of argument pouring out. I know I should knock and go in, but Liam and his father are being so loud it doesn't count as eavesdropping if I just wait outside for a couple minutes to hear what they're saying, right?

"No, Dad, I'm not going to blackmail Elise into fake dating me," Liam hisses.

"It's Director Winters when we're in public, Liam. How many times have we been over this? And why the hell not?"

"Because she's my friend, and she trusts me. Unlike you, I would never use that to my advantage. I honestly have no idea what Mom would think of you if she was still alive. Probably that you're a selfish bastard who deserves to-"

Thwack.

Liam goes silent, and for once, I understand the definition of deafening silence. Every nerve in my body lights on fire, and I'm about to barge in and give the director a piece of my mind when he begins to speak again.

"Liam, what happened the last time you couldn't hold your tongue?" Director Winters asks gruffly, a threat laced into his already venomous voice.

Silence.

"So, son, I'd like you to think again. Will. You. Figure. Out. How. To. Get. The. Girl. On. Board. Or will I?"

"You better stay far away from Elise," Liam spits back, and I decide I've had enough.

"There's no need."

Both of their heads snap to face me.

"I take it back. Director Winters, I'm more than thrilled to keep your son as my fake boyfriend."

On that note, I grab Liam's arm and march the hell out of there.

It's only once we're both standing in the light that I notice the bruise forming on Liam's cheek and how he's barely holding himself together. It hurts to see how he's practically trembling, and it takes all my self restraint not to reach my hand out and hold him. Despite knowing the consequences, Liam stood there and took it all without hesitation. Because of me. He took it because of me.

"Liam... are you alright? Purple isn't a good color on you," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"Do I look alright?" he answers dryly, something I've come to recognize as a sort of self defense mechanism. It's then that I decide I've had enough. No more avoiding the topic or sugarcoating it, I want the truth. The full truth.

"What the heck is wrong with your father?"

Liam doesn't answer, and instead walks over to another room with a dark black door located a couple meters down, looking back expectantly as if he wants me to follow. I sigh, going after him, and once inside, it takes me less than half a minute to discern the room as purely... Liam's.

The walls are covered in pictures of a woman who looks scarily identical to Liam. Well, if he was a girl. Her hazel eyes are warm, inviting, and not all that similar to Liam's, but there's something in the slope of her jaw and the crinkle of her smile that looks eerily familiar. Who could she be? An older cousin, an aunt... oh. His mom.

Directing my attention away, Liam sits me down on the bed, and I find myself scooching over to give him space by my side. Of course, I'm a bit wary, but the tears welling in the corner of his eyes are more than enough to make me stay.

"Well, Ellie," Liam mumbles, staring at the ceiling, "How about I tell you a story? About a boy who lost his mother, and was left by himself with a grief stricken father. Grief does crazy things to people, Elise," he warns, "Your mom and you pulled yourselves together. Eventually, so did I. My dad, how do I say this... didn't."

***

"It was only two years ago," Liam begins, "I was fifteen, and I thought the world revolved around me." His voice is bitter, remorseful. "I was an arrogant boy and an awful son, and I've spent days a plenty regretting it. But back then, if I thought I was the sun, my mom was my moon. Dad wasn't home often, and when he was, he was closed off, locking himself in his room or coordinating calls with his actors and script writers, which was perfectly fine by me. Mom and I would spend hours together, and you know what we did using that time? We wrote songs. And they were magical. Fun fact, I haven't written a song in two years. Hold up... I guess it's not that fun, is it?" He scoffs a little to himself.

I take that moment to look up at him, at his grief-filled eyes and his forced smile. At his face which I would describe as a painting. A painting of a boy stuck in the past. And for the first time, I really see him. But the sight is so, so heartbreaking.

"No one saw it coming," his voice cracks, "She was healthy, and sweet, and just in her early forties. In the end, it wasn't a lack of wellness that took her life. No. She went out with her friends one night, in this brand new dress she had been gushing over for a whole week. Even Dad told her how perfect she looked that day. It would've been amazing, if only she had come back home. If only. She got in her car, called me to say she was on her way back, and we were joking together, laughing, when I-I heard her yelp. There was a loud bang, static, and then silence. It was the loudest silence of my whole life."

Liam's voice is shaking, the pain of that night seeping into the room and filling the cracks in the walls. It's one thing for a parent to leave, it's a whole different thing for them to die. I-I can't even imagine. If Mom died... gods, just the thought makes me want to bawl my eyes out.

"Liam..."

He places a finger to his lips in the universal sign for quiet.

"I'm not done yet, Ellie. And if I stop, I doubt I'll have the courage to continue."

I sigh and nod in agreement, letting him continue.

"Dad and I were devastated. For a whole week after the funeral, neither of us even interacted. We holed up in our rooms and just... grieved. It was awful, Elise, awful." His hands are shaking in remembrance. It reminds me of the few days after Dad left us, when I would accidentally stumble upon Mom crying and feel like shit—as if it was my fault Dad left—though I now know very well it wasn't.

"After that, things gradually got worse. Neither of us could bear living in the house; we saw her everywhere. So, we left our apartment in San Francisco, and moved up here to Los Angeles. That's when Dad decided to get involved in my life." Liam shudders and I pat his shoulder, hoping to offer what little comfort I can provide. He leans into my touch, and sympathy courses through me. Was I like this when Dad left? Probably not. There was no one for me to talk to.

"He decided then and there that I would be an actor, so that he could homeschool me with no questions asked. And I was a very snarky young boy back then, so I flat out refused. Long story short, things got slightly physical and I backed off. Tha-that's what Dad, I mean Director Winters was referring to today."

In that moment, my heart breaks for this sweet boy who had gotten the short end of the stick in life. He deserves better. He deserves so much better. All I want is to comfort him, to let him know that I'm here, that I'll always be here, and that I'm not going anywhere. So I do what I always do when I'm at a loss for words—I offer him a hug. And he returns the embrace with a grip so crushing I didn't believe it humanly possible. It's warm, comfortable, and I think both of us sense the unspoken promises behind it. It's okay, I'm here, I got you.

Just for good measure, I say them aloud.

"Liam," I start, capturing his attention, "It's okay, I'm here, I got you."