Chapter 502 The Best Of Me
Villain Ch 502. The Best Of Me
Allen's eyes fluttered open, and he squinted at the faint, filtered sunlight that now spilled through the window. The blazing afternoon sun had mellowed into a warm, golden glow. The clock showed 04.16 PM.
He groaned and mumbled, "This late already?" as he dragged himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed. His jaw cracked in a satisfying yawn, stretching the lethargy out of his bones.
Rubbing his eyes and ruffling his messy hair, he couldn't help but smile. It was a rarity to wake up in the late afternoon, but today, it was just what he needed. The relentless headache that had pounded through his skull had finally surrendered, retreating into the shadows. Allen's head was clearer, and the world no longer spun around him like a relentless merry-go-round.
He chalked it up to the combination of vitamins he had chugged down earlier and the pure, blissful hours of extra sleep he'd indulged in.
With a stretch that would make a cat envious, Allen hauled himself off the bed, feeling a lot more like himself. He padded out of his room and into the dining area, his eyes swept over the space, taking in the unexpected tidiness. It was as if a magical cleaning fairy had paid a visit. The usual clutter was mysteriously absent, and the place gleamed with an air of serenity that was entirely foreign to his apartment.
He chuckled to himself, realizing that the reason for this unusually neat scene was most likely the girls. His companions had likely taken charge. Allen glanced around, noting the absence of their lively presence. He shrugged—no surprise there. They all had their own lives and commitments, bustling around the city, leaving him to relish in his beauty sleep.
"Those girls must've bolted the moment I began my hibernation," he murmured to no one in particular, a faint smile tugging at his lips. They were sweet enough to check in on him after the misunderstanding and sent him straight to bed due the pounding headache.
It dawned on him how lucky he was to have such companions, the kind who would drop everything just to make sure he was okay, even if it was a bit of a misfire.
Allen ambled through the apartment, feeling a peculiar tug at his heart despite the quiet, the emptiness echoing louder than the leftover sounds of revelry. The space, so meticulously tidied up, seemed to magnify the absence of the girls. There was an unexpected void that seemed to swallow the remaining warmth of the day.
He couldn't shake off this odd sensation. It was like a yearning, a twinge of emptiness that crept up on him, defying logic. He missed the giggles, the banter, and the sense of camaraderie they all shared, even if it was just for a brief moment. Allen knew it was unreasonable to expect them to stick around. After all, they had their own lives, and responsibilities to tend to. But still, a part of him wished they could have lingered a bit longer, pampering him and sharing in the lazy day.
"Okay, what's with this vibe?" Allen thought, shaking his head slightly, trying to brush away the odd sensation that clung to him. He recognized this feeling, a faint echo from childhood when playdates had to end, and he'd wished they'd last forever. It was an innocent longing, one that hadn't surfaced in ages. He scolded himself silently, scoffing at the idea that he'd even entertain such childlike desires.
"Seriously, man, get a grip," he muttered to himself, leaning against the wall. He knew better than to hold onto these whimsical wishes. All good things come to an end, right?
There was a gnawing ache within him, a longing for connection and companionship that he couldn't shake. The girls leaving had left a void, igniting a familiar but unwanted tug at his heartstrings. He grappled with a dichotomy—a war between his emotions and the rational voice in his head.
His logic was persistent, almost like an overprotective parent, cautioning him against investing too much hope in people. It was as if a red flag waved whenever he felt the warmth of someone else's company, reminding him of the potential pain that could follow. Allen had been down that road before, the memory of a heartbreak that felt like the universe collapsing on him still lingered, haunting him like a ghost.
The fear of vulnerability loomed large. He'd once let his heart wander freely, only to see it shattered into countless pieces. The idea of being too dependent on others or entwining his happiness too tightly with someone else's existence terrified him. Independence had become a shield, a shield against possible heartache. His logic continually whispered that self-sufficiency was the key to avoiding the depths of despair he'd plunged into before.
And then there was that four-letter word: Love. Wasn't it the most beautiful and terrifying of all emotions? A paradox in itself. A yearning to have someone to share life with, to cherish, to hold close. Allen pondered if everyone experienced these emotions, these desires, or if it was just him teetering on the edge of vulnerability.
'But isn't it normal to want to be with the person you love?' he mused, the words dancing around in his mind. Love, a perplexing tapestry of emotions, enticed and frightened him in equal measure. Wanting someone's company, craving their presence, and expecting them to reciprocate—was that simply human nature or an invitation for heartache?
Allen's internal struggle was a battlefield strewn with the wreckage of past heartaches. He understood that his hesitancy, his guardedness, all stemmed from the traumatic experiences that had carved scars deep into his soul. It was like a tape playing on a loop, reminding him of the pain, betrayal, and heartbreak he'd endured. He longed for that cathartic release, to shatter the glass walls he'd built around his heart, but every time he dared to peek beyond them, an unwelcome guest called 'Fear' came knocking.
His logic was incessantly rational, preaching that it was alright to rely on others, that interdependence was part and parcel of the human experience. He nodded in agreement with that voice, but there was something more profound at play, something visceral that held him back. It was that gnawing dread, the inkling that vulnerability might expose him to a fresh kind of torment. It was the fear that others would see his heart as a potential target, an Achilles' heel waiting to be struck.
The dichotomy was driving him mad. He pondered, shifting on the couch and running his hand through his disheveled hair. It wasn't just a fear of being hurt again; it was the fear of showing weakness.
Amidst the whirlwind of his conflicting emotions, Allen's gaze fixated on the stovetop. There sat a pot, quietly emanating warmth and a mysterious allure. It pulled his attention away from the tempest of his thoughts, drawing him closer with a curious magnetism. Intrigued, he ambled over, peering into the pot and finding a bright sticky note firmly attached to its lid.
"Heat it before eating. Love ya~ Bella." The note was adorned with a charming little smiley face doodle. The simplicity and warmth in Bella's words momentarily thawed the frost that had settled around his heart. It was a gentle reminder that he was cared for, a gesture that spoke volumes without saying much. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Allen's lips, a brief reprieve from the weight he'd been carrying.
As he reached for the note, his eyes wandered a little further, landing on yet another note, this time perched upon the kitchen counter. "The laundry is done and I have folded it and tidied it up in your closet. XXX. Alice and Vivian." The words of Alice and Vivian were like a soothing balm to his chaotic thoughts. The camaraderie and support of his companions were evident in the little notes scattered around the kitchen, a testament to their affection and thoughtfulness.
It was in these simple gestures that Allen found solace. The pot on the stove and the tidy closet whispered tales of care and consideration. Despite his internal battles, the external world offered a glimmer of warmth and tenderness. It was as though they understood his silent struggles and sought to alleviate them in the simplest, most heartfelt ways.
Taking both notes, Allen folded them carefully, tucking them into his pocket. He leaned against the counter, a mix of emotions washing over him.
A soft smile played on Allen's lips. "I gotta thank them," he murmured to himself, a warmth seeping into his heart that he couldn't quite explain. It was more than just a gesture; it was a tangible reminder that he was cared for, needed, and noticed even in his absence. Their thoughtfulness made his world a little brighter.
But as Allen mulled over the notes, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. "No... Thank you isn't enough," he muttered, the words lingering in the air. It felt insufficient to merely express gratitude for the love and care they poured into their actions. The girls went the extra mile, showing him he was an integral part of their lives. It was a realization that pushed him beyond mere words of appreciation.
"They're giving me their best, so I should give them the best of me," he acknowledged, determination etched in his tone. It was a conscious decision, a promise to reciprocate the love and kindness that had been extended to him.
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