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Not that I really ever would’ve been, seeing as he’s straight as a fucking ruler.
He could never love me in the way I crave so desperately…not in this timeline. Not in this universe.
Our stars are only ever meant to exist from opposite sides of the sun burning brightly forever between us.
“Sometimes I feel like…like you only tolerate me, because I’m dating your sister.”
At his words, my eyes fall shut, an ugly sort of laugh creaking out of me.
“Tell me it’s not true.”
“Obviously it’s not,” I mutter. “We’ve been friends since we were six.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
When I open my eyes, he’s nodding.
“So the fact you think you can’t come to me? It hurts, okay?”
I stare at him, and he gestures to my arm.
“You could’ve talked to me. Vented about whatever it is that made you think hurting yourself was your only option.” He barks out a short, broken laugh. “Hell, punch me in the face next time for all I care. If that’s what it takes to take some control back, to quiet whatever assholes’ voices are in your head, just take it out on me. Not yourself.”
And all I can do is keep staring at him.
“It might seem harmless now,” he says thickly. “But what happens when a shallow nick in your arm is no longer enough? What happens then?”
“I’m not gonna kill myself, Mason,” I mumble. “I told you.”
His lips thin, and I can see the desperation to believe me he tries so fiercely to cling to reflected in his gleaming pupils.
“I’m not that kid in the song, okay?” I say raggedly, my words surprising us both.
His eyes flare. “That’s not?—”
“I’m not history repeating itself. It’s not a prophecy. It’s just a song. That’s all it is. Stop putting expectations on me,” I plead. “Stop putting me into this narrative, where I lose.”
His brows knit, and I suck in my cheeks, fighting the urge to hunch my shoulders, and shrink into myself. I’m not even really sure where all that came from, but now that it’s out there…
I can’t find it in me to take them back.
I love that song, I do, I love that it makes me think of him, us…
But I also hate it for those very same reasons.
Hate it for the image he so clearly has in his head of me.
The poor bullied boy who’s headed down a path of destruction.
“You scare me sometimes.”
Eyes burning, all I can do is stare back at him, biting my tongue like my life depends on it. And in a way, it does.
Because he scares me too.
He terrifies me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I am. I just…” I wave a hand between us. “I don’t know how to do this sometimes.”
