Forbidden Love (Megan x Louis Powell)

My second to last love

TW: self harm, drugs, dream smp, suicide, Megan

Megans POV

I'm depressed, I think we all are sometimes, I am all the time. While I'm not diagnosed in any sense I still have reason to believe I am. My parents died when I was four, I was put in a group home. The family I joined had 8 kids the ages varied, I was the youngest. Sometimes I wonder how my life would be now if my birth parents didn't join that cult. All of the cult members killed them self with some sort of drink; I don't research it much, It only depresses me.

I'm anxious, we all are, but me especially. Once again I am not diagnosed with anxiety, however, I believe I have it. I am always shaking, possibly because of my Parkinson's, or maybe my dementia causes this. I can't remember. The first time I shook was when I was eight, I had a seizure. It was terrible, the kids laughed at me, even the teacher laughed. I was brought to the hospital in some dudes jeep trunk. I'm not sure if I was kidnapped or not.

I take a slow sip of my still warm coffee, savoring the flavor of the pumpkin flavoring I graciously added. I stirred my coffee with the spoon I was given, with no reason to stir just simply for my own benefit. I take another sip of my coffee slightly faster now because someone is looking at me. His face is thin, broken, damaged. He is short, quite short indeed, I think I might be taller than him. He is eating a small muffin, small like him. He stands up muffin crumbs cascading down his tight shirt and onto the hardwood floor. He walks towards me, maybe he is interested in me.

He walks straight passed me and to the trash can behind me, at this point I am disappointingly staring at him. He acknowledges this stare and gives me a small smile revealing his bright white teeth. His smile warms me, makes me forget about the bad times and remember the good. The good being my first kiss, my first love, the time my dad bought me a real pony; so many good times.

With my new found happiness I gain enough confidence to ask him for his name and number. "Uh, sir if you don't mind, could I have your number?" I ask in a love struct tone. "Of course, I need more friends, my number is 310-905-8746." He says. Friends? FRIENDS? I wanted this man to have my children he will be more than my 'friend.' "Friends with benefits," I say putting my hair behind my ear and biting my lip. "Bitch- I'm gay." I look him up and down and down and up. "Oh, um ok, I've always wanted a gay best friend." He looks at me puzzled, what does he not get. "Fuck no." He walks out of the coffee shop, leaving my heart broken. I wonder what his name was.

I go home, my mascara runs down my face as I cry. To stir the pot I decide to text the number he gave me. I ask him what his name was, knowing he won't respond, but then almost instantly he does. The text says, "Hey sister, James here, check out my new merch drop!" The text ended with a link to the sister merch shop. Now that I think about it he did sort of look like James Charles.