Marcel’s car screeched to a halt in front of Sebastian’s newly purchased home, gravel crunching under his tires.
He barely managed to step out before he spotted Damien and Sebastian waiting on the porch. Both of them stood, arms folded, concern etched into their faces.
“Marcel,” Damien called out. “What happened? You sounded strange over the phone.”
Marcel didn’t even greet them. He simply walked past them as if he knew where he was going.
“Marcel,” Sebastian said, going after him. “What is it what’s wrong with you? Talk to us.”
“I’m done,” Marcel yelled, his voice breaking. “I’m just done.” I can’t do this shit anymore.” He fell to the ground.
Sebastian furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, you’re done?”
Marcel went quiet, as he put his palms over his face, trying to steady his breathing.
“What went on with Sarah?” Damien asked softly. “We can’t help if you don’t talk to us.” He pressed. “What do you mean you’re done?”
“I’m done caring.” He said, shaking. “Done feeling. Done trying
