One shot collection

07. What if? (ArmBank/Golf)

Summary: what if Bank didn't get back together with Golf, but instead used his chance to get the sweet revenge? What if Bank decided not to forgive Golf?

Contains violence and angst, if you don't like it, I kindly ask you to don't proceed.

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They were making out on the couch and despite the fact that Golf's hands were as gentle and warm as Bank remembered them, it still didn't feel right. In his mind were playing on repeat images of his sweet boyfriend Arm and the hurtful memories that he would like very much to forget about those 5 years of pain.

Suddenly, a loud thud was heard by the couple and soon after a tall boy entered the living room where they were.

"Nong Bank, happy anniversary!", Arm was too busy trying to balance the cake he had baked and decorated himself as a gift to Bank to notice the scene unfolding before his eyes. However when he heard no response, he managed to lift his eyes from the dessert and stare at the couch. "What the hell is going on here, Bank?", he frowned at the view of the two men with unbuttoned shirts and messy hair. Bank's chubby cheeks were tinted in a shade of red that Arm would find lovely in other situation but this was not one of them.

"P'Arm? What are you doing here?", Bank stood from the couch, getting rid of Golf's hands trying to hug him closer.

"I can't believe you did this to me!", Arm threw the accusation and left the room, running away like this was enough to delete the recent events from History.

"Wait, P'Arm!", Bank tried to run after him, but he felt a tug on his arm, making him swing one step back.

"Who the hell is this Bank? What is going on here?", Golf demanded sternly.

"Not now, P'Golf!" Bank released his arm, massaging the spot where he felt it hurt by the other's grip. "I can't do that now, P'Golf. I need to talk to P'Arm."

"Bank, I deserve an explanation! Sit here now and tell me what's going on!", the older one insisted.

How dare he demand anything from me?, Bank thought bitterly and then approached the taller one, stretching his arm to reach his shoulder.

"Oh, my dear Golf... do you really think I would wait for you to return from the grave to be my zombie lover?", Bank asked.

"What are you say--". But Golf couldn't complete his sentence because Bank suddenly punched him in the stomach. The move was so smooth and unexpected that the taller one didn't have the instinct to protect himself.

That rage Bank made a huge effort to keep under his fake bright smile for so long was now boiling on the surface, urging him to be released. His sweet boy facade was ruining just like his current and past relationship, the perfect fuel to set him on fire.

"This... this is for the first year. I could barely eat and my mother had to hospitalize me to treat me properly.", he said sobbing, the memory of the hospital equipment's sounds and cleaning supplies' smell invading his senses without his permission.

"B-Bank... what the hell?", he spat on the floor, feeling his stomach's content threatening to make its way back to his mouth.

Golf held his stomach trying to suppress the pain. But Bank was not over yet.

"Does it hurt, P'Golf? That's good because...", the smaller punched him again. "My second year was just like this. When the doctor finally said I could go back home, I had lost a year in the hospital. All my friends had already started college before me and I had no one to hold on to me.", a single tear trailed down his cheek.

"But Bank, I did that for you! Because I care about you!", he tried to defend himself.

"How is any of this justified, Golf? Do you really think that faking the death of the person I had loved the most in this life would be of any help?", he smirked at the man. "Well, please take that!", he aggressively introduced his own knee to Golf's crotch. "It is also because I care about you!"

Bank was crying hard, but not even his blurred sight was enough to make his anger slow down a bit. Golf was curled on the ground, his hands touching all over his body trying to reduce the pain, but with no use.

"B-Bank... please..."

"What? What did you say? Do you wanna know what happened in the fourth year?", he curled his hand in a shell next to his ear like to mimic a person trying to hear better.

"No, please, Bank! Don't!", the defeated man begged him, losing his breath when the other kicked the body on the floor.

"I also tried to say 'no' everytime someone got close to me. Eveytime they asked me out on dates, I refused; I ignored the love confessions and even deleted my profile from social media to be sure people wouldn't come to me, but P'Arm was different...", he led a tiny hand with red knuckles to press his own heart, like feeling his boyfriend's love.

"B-But this is me, Bank. Don't you love me anymore? I'm back after those 5 years!" Golf said breathing hard.

Bank smirked bitterly.

"You know, P'Golf what did I felt after hearing on the fucking radio that you were alive? I felt like a dumb that didn't realise any of your lies all of this time and that was the last straw."

"What do you mean, Bank?"

"For the fifth year, I give you nothing. I won't hit you anymore because the worst type of pain is the one we can't see coming. I'm going after Arm now and don't wanna hear about you anymore. Do you understand me?"

"..."

Bank left the room chasing after his boyfriend and Golf remained on the floor, hugging himself, like trying to prevent his pieces from getting lost in the quiet room. Bank's last move was the one which hurt the most: he had broken Golf's heart into pieces.

[The End]

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Notes:

If you follow me on Twitter, you're familiar with this plot because I've posted a short version of it there. Let's say I was really resentful at Golf after watching MB2.

I'm 100% against violence in real life, please don't take this as advice to practice this kind of thing.