Perpetual

“Let's break up.”

You look at her who is still in her seat, hand clicking and sliding rapidly across the frictionless mousepad as she tries to weave past attacks flying towards her.

“Give me a minute, babe. Let me finish this up.”

You drag a chair from an empty cubicle behind her and sit down.

And you wait. Wait. Waited.

Your wrinkled fingers tremble. Your baggy eyes waver. Your drooping back falls lower.

You're exhausted and tired.

But it's time.

“Victory!”

A deep, booming and resonant voice announces her win directly into her ears. You don't hear anything of course, since headphones are only meant for one person’s use.

Headphones that you bought for her. A Razer Kraken Kitty V3 Pro — Quartz that cost a fifth of your meagre part-time salary. And because you were so worried that she might damage it, you even offered to yourself to add on the extended warranty for its protection of an extra three years.

Who would have known that extended warranty does not protect your already crumbling feelings for her. Your ‘friends’ have called you blind, lovesick, or a dumb idiot, among many other nastier names, but at least someone chose to be with you.

Well, you're her cash cow after all.

She doesn't need to bat her eyelashes to get that limited edition Razer Enki X Hello Kitty and Friends gaming chair that burned half a hole through your pathetic wallet. She doesn't even need to whine and pout with the sole aim of draining your monthly cheque to buy the SHEGLAM Full Collection Set when she already has a CHANEL LES BEIGES HEALTHY GLOW SUMMER ESSENTIALS makeup set at home. That one was from the courtesy of your funding too, you remind yourself.

She turns around and looks at you. She's pretty. Pretty because you have worked your sorry ass to the bone just to keep her happy. Everything on her and used by her was and is from you.

But you're going to ensure that the tense doesn't become a future one. No more gifts for her that will be coming from you.

“So, what is it babe?” she coos, this time somehow magically batting her eyelashes.

You take in her victory-drunk expression from the game match which she has just won and swallow down a non-existent glob of saliva that your malfunctioning salivary glands are producing.

“I said, let's break up.”

“Like us?” she asks, pointing her finger between you and her repeatedly.

“Yes.”

“B-But why?”

“You don't love me anyway,” you say. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind, so let's just make this a clean break.”

You immediately stand and turn to leave, in fear that if you stay any longer, you’ll actually change your mind.

“Wait! No!”

She grabs on to your arm and clings to it with both hands, shouting at you with an exaggerated cutesy voice.

“But what about that skin that you promised to buy me? I already told my friend that I’ll buy it for her, and if you leave now, I’ll be labelled as a liar!”

You freeze in your step, heart clenching in helplessness.

“There’s also my monthly subscription for the battle pass! What about that? How am I going to pay for that now? Can you pleeeeaaasseeeee not terminate the recurring payment?”

Your fists clench. Your teeth grit against each other.

“And that new keyboard that you’ve already ordered for me, you won't be cancelling it, right? It's my favourite after all.”

That's it.

You yank your hand away from her and turn to her. Your mouth opens and your chest expands, ready to launch a bombardment of accusations of how much of a money grubber she is (not an accusation, by the way), but in the end, your lips simply close to a shape just enough for a growl.

“No. I had enough.”

Her face instantly switches. From a cute puppy to a devilish three-headed hell dog reminiscent of Cerberus, she begins to berate you.

“Enough? What do you mean enough? Haven't I been giving you more than you deserve? You should be glad that I even bothered to hang out with such a loser like you. You don't even have any friends, and you should fucking consider it a blessing from god that I see you as pitiful enough to cast eyes on your loathsome self.”

You stand there and take in the verbal assault, just like how you always do when there's nobody around, except that this time, you have close to sixty pairs of curious eyes from all around the PC Bang probably scoffing at you.

“Wait…” she hums, before continuing. “I see what it is. You're mad that I haven't spread my legs for you right? All these gifts and presents bought for me, but here you are, still a virgin that can't even get any pussy.”

She gives a mocking laugh and digs her finger into your chest.

“Virgin. Loser. Pussy,” she sneers, enunciating every syllable. “I’m sooo fucking glad I haven't even allowed you to even hold my hand.”

And you, who upholds the thinking of women shouldn't be retaliated against, regardless of whether its physically, verbally, or mentally, you just stand there and soak in every negative emotion enacted upon you like a sponge. Your clenched fist relaxes but your nerves twitch. Your heart pounds and adrenaline rushes, but you divert that to calm your surging rage.

“I bet if I—”

She raises her hand and stretches her palm wide.

“—fucking slap you right here, you wouldn't even do anything about it.”

Air whooshes and she swings it down.

You close your eyes on instinct, your muscles tensing to harden your skin and soften the incoming impact.

Air graces your cheek instead of flesh.

“What the fuck—”

You slowly open your eyes and look at her.

Or them.