I just have a lot of feelings. Today has been horrible for Lucian.

Ian Harding should've seen it coming. As he sat at his laptop with eyes wide open, complete shock seemed to have taken a strict hold of his body, not letting him shake the images from his mind.

He'd left Lucy with the decision of him or Chris after their impromptu kiss a few nights ago when the cast met up for drinks to get back into the grove before shooting. There had been no alcohol involved; only raw feelings. When she wanted to push further, he left her with the ultimatum. It was either Ian himself or her boyfriend, Chris. No matter how much he detested the guy, he couldn't let Lucy inflict the pain of cheating on him.

The pictures on Google Images spoke volumes for Ian. One of Lucy going up on tip-toe at the beach and kissing Chris. One of her with her arms about his neck. One of them holding hands while shopping. And another of him carrying Lucy across the sand.

It was clear and obvious that Lucy had made her choice; and her choice was Chris. Not Ian. She didn't pick the insane chemistry and instant attraction they had. She didn't choose him; the man who was willing to do anything for her and far more mature than Chris could ever be. The man that didn't blow smoke in her face when frustrated.

Instead, she chose the jerk that couldn't even seem to keep himself from smoking out of respect for her.

Tears began to sting the corners of Ian's eyes. He knew that he shouldn't have let himself get his hopes up. He knew that Lucy would continually pick the person over him because she was too god damn afraid to let her feelings show. And Ian wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up this charade of being okay every time he had to kiss her or hold her onscreen and know that she didn't want him to in real life.

In fact, the photos hit the nail on the head. Tonight would be the last night Ian would allow himself to be in love with Lucy Hale.

He needed to get everything that held memory of her for him out of his house. The cinnamon bun scented candle she had brought over during their Ustream caught his eye. It had been rested on an end table near his bedroom for the past few months since she'd given it to him, serving as a reminder of her scent and the night. In the mere matter of seconds the glass encasing the wax broke and shattered on the floor. It had been lit earlier and the still molten wax seeped into Ian's white carpet, staining it eternally.

A picture of the two that was framed with various other photos was next to go. It hurt to take the loved and worn picture out of its while Ian knew what was to happen next. It had been a photo of them together at some concert that the entire cast went to. Both he and Lucy looked extremely happy; happier than she ever looked with Chris. The photo was cherished, but Ian couldn't look at it anymore.

His fingertips tore it in half. And after that, tore it into fourths. Soon enough, the entire picture was in bits and pieces on his carpet, sticking into the waxy mess he'd already created.

More photographs of him and Lucy were torn up, even photos that other people were present in. Ian wanted every indication of her in his life gone. Ian would even go to lengths of asking Aria and Ezra to be broken up and search for a new job.

He knew it was an extreme, but his heart ached with each thought of future scenes that they could have together.

After the pictures were gone, most of his shelves were empty. The bareness would soon be filled though; Ian had pictures he'd taken down to make way for those of Lucy. But now, family was more important than some girl who'd torn his heart out and knew he'd be hurt.

Rage filled Ian, anger clear and evident in his eyes. If looks could kill, Ian would have caused an entire massacre, starting off with Lucy and Chris. Maybe he'd spare Lucy, but Chris would be the first to go. The man was putrid and disrespectful. But now Ian assumed that was just Lucy's taste; she liked men who would break her heart, just like she broke his.

It wasn't even a minute before Ian began to break everything in his apartment. DVD's were split in half and thrown across the room with pointed edges. Picture frames, even those containing photos of himself and his parents or his sister, Sarah were thrown and the glass in shards. Ian pulled books out of his bookshelf and threw them.

In short, he was having a complete and utter melt down. But what else was he supposed to do when the person he loved most completely fooled him into thinking she had feelings for him? Ian didn't expect himself to be glowingly happy, nor did he expect himself to be even moderately okay. A temper tantrum was expected.

The small kitchenette was next. Dishes were smashed and the porcelain laid in sharp pieces. Ian's finger began to bleed from a few cuts he'd gotten, but the blood didn't faze him; that was what band aids were for.

Band aids could fix his cuts. There wasn't a bandage big enough to mend and piece back together his broken heart.

Glassware followed in piles after the dishes. Loud bangs were heard as Ian finally collapsed. Luckily, he was in a spot where none of the mess he had made could hurt him. Sobs raked from his chest. Just like everything else in his apartment, Ian was broken.

Hurried knocking sounded at his door followed by a feminine voice. "Ian! Are you alright? What's going on?"

His heart dropped into the endless pit that was his stomach. It was Lucy. She must have flown home that day.

Ian's door began to creak open, the sound of the hinges moving followed by a gasp. "Ian," she said, taking him in and the mess he'd made. "What happened?"

He couldn't answer. Lucy began to take in more of his wrecked apartment when her eyes found the torn up photos of the two of them. She then realized the cause of him on the ground with tear stains all over his face; the photos. She'd flown back especially for this.

"Ian," Lucy spoke rationally. "It's not what it looks like…Chris…Chris…he only needs me for publicity." It was the solid truth. She wasn't lying to make him feel better, although Ian didn't believe her one bit.

"Like hell he does. You're only saying that to make me feel better." His tone was icy. His teeth were gritted. The sweet Ian Harding that was once alive was beginning to be taken over by a repulsed and angry man. "I—I don't need you in my life anymore, Lucy. So…so please leave." It killed Ian to say those words, but it was necessary for him to be able to move on with life.

"Ian, please," Lucy said, her voice immediately breaking. "You don't understand. I took an immediate flight here for you. Because I knew you'd react like this and I needed you to know that at the end of the day, I chose you."

"Leave, Lucy," Ian repeated through gritted teeth. "You obviously chose him. You look happy. And while it causes me heartbreak, I'm not going to deny you that."

"Ian," she said, breaking into tears. "Don't do this. I'll only be truly happy with you….please." Tears began to collect in her own eyes, feeling her own heart shatter as well.

Pulling himself off the ground, Ian's hand rested against Lucy's back. For a moment, she thought he'd finally understand, but that hope was gone the minute Ian opened up his door and softly pushed her out.

"Go, Lucy," he said softly, hiccupping. Ian was breaking even more than he already had. He didn't want Lucy to be erased from his life, but it was what he needed; what would be good for him. "I—I don't need you anymore."

She tried to protest, but it was too late. Ian had already closed the door. He pressed his back up against it and slid down, holding his knees and curling into fetal position. Tears fell down his cheeks and onto his sweatpants while the same words repeated in his mind, trying to convince him that he had made the right decision.

I don't need you.

I don't need you anymore.