Cocoa (Pick/Rome)

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The sweet, warm chocolate like liquid never tasted this horrible before. His apartment didn't feel like home today too. Rome pushed the half-empty cup away, glancing outside through the foggy window. The sky was shady, full of dark clouds and hard rain. The cocoa on his table would have been the best company for this kind of weather, but Rome's mind was elsewhere. 

Why was Pick so dense? Why was he repeatedly hurting him? Did he find some type of sick pleasure in it? Was it fun for him? Rome's head was full of thoughts. Maybe it was time to stop chasing after a man who would never like him back. Perhaps he should move on. The lonely tear escaped his eye, rolling down his pale cheek. His phone pinged, announcing a new message. He hesitantly picked it up, trembling while reading it. 

"I am sorry, Rome. Forgive me, please." 

His heart skipped a beat. He can't let go, after all. 

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