Y/n had always had a thing for bad boys; smokers, bikers, drug dealers, the lot. But none as extreme as Jason Dean, the new kid at Westerburg High. But as this peculiar new kid says, the extreme always seems to make an impression...
Warning: include...
My eyes are still heavy when I open them to see sunlight seeping in through the curtains. I turn my head and see Y/n already awake in my arms. I can't lose her. I brush my fingers through her hair and she smiles softly, looking up at me. I wrap my hand around to the back of her neck and pull her lips to mine, biting her lip softly to indicate that I want a deep kiss.
📝
A while later we lay in bed next to each other, my arm wrapped around her back, tracing soft circles on her arm, when she confides in me about what happened last night. "I got in a fight with Heather, said some things and spat on her, so she threatened me." She stated in annoyance. "Well, what do you say we give her a morning dose of wake up juice?" I suggest, perking my eyebrow and she laughs.
📝
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{Your POV}
JD hands Heather the mug of soup with orange juice, and she takes a big sip. Lowering the mug from her face, her lips are blue and her eyes are wide. She stumbles forward and chokes trying to say "corn nuts", before falling through her glass table.
I jump back in fear, and lean down to check if she's ok. There's no pulse, and I realise that we gave her the wrong mug - the one with liquid draino in it. I look at JD wide-eyed, and he seems slightly panicked.
"I just killed my best friend." I whisper, stepping away from her lifeless body. "It's - it's fine. We killed her, and that's a crime. But - what if it was suicide?" JD suggests, and I furrow my brows in confusion. "Well you can write a suicide note, right? And no one will know. We're cleaning the slate," he explains, taking his hand through his hair as he turns away from the body.
I get to work writing the note, thankfully the Heathers have gotten me to forge many a note and permission slip, so I'm talented at forging handwriting. I finish off the last line, my hands shaking slightly, "I die knowing no one knew the real me." I whisper aloud. "Good, that's good." JD responds in approval. I let out a shaky breath and glance at Heather one last time before walking out the door.
📝
I let my thoughts wander, did he know it was the wrong mug? Surely not, he'd have to be insane to give her that on purpose. I shake my thoughts away and sit on the steps in front of the school. The atmosphere at school was extra weird today. People were sad, but it was an odd kind of sad. Almost a relieved kind of sad. And I let myself wonder for a moment if we did the right thing.
I quickly brush the thought away, it's too ugly to even entertain. I hear footsteps behind me and JD sits down next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I lean into him and ask my pressing question. "Why is no one really sad?" "Because she was a bitch." He says with a bit too much enthusiasm.
"JD, please don't think I'm an awful person for this, but I wonder if we did the right thing?" I feel the back of my neck burn as I say this, fearing that he'll think I'm crazy. "We did. We're cleaning the slate." His answer seems almost rehearsed, like he's thought about it a lot. I sigh and bury my head in the crook of his neck, letting a small tear slip from my eye as he wraps his other arm around me and pulls me closer.
I feel conflicted. I know I didn't kill her on purpose, but it's almost a relief to have her gone. And I feel immense guilt for thinking that way, which is why I'm now crying softly into JD's shoulder, but my thoughts still don't shift. Deep down, I still know that a part of me wanted her dead, and a part of me is glad it happened.
