𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀 , 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐲

◈ epilogue ◈

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Epilogue

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a/n: amazing ana wrote the last couple paragraphs and I kid you not I was sobbing to Man or a Muppet so I better be seeing tears rolling.

"If we had a soundtrack, what would the songs be?" Alex asked, folding his hands behind his head and laying back against Eunoia's grass landing. "I suggest you pull out your emo songs because I will totally laugh at you but in a nice way."

I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to flick his forehead in retortion, "Ironically, 'Brother' By Gerard Way is one of my favorite songs right now. When I first heard it I barely recognized his voice."

"Are you telling me, that Iris 'I Write Sins Not Tragedies' Faye, didn't recognize our little boy Gerard's voice and tune within two seconds?" Alex gasped, and that's when I let the urge take over and legitimately, flicked him in the forehead.

The 2 AM air was crisp, and fireflies flickered against the ponds reflection as Alex and I talked. All the teens had been inside playing a very competitive game of mafia. (Which, not to anyone's surprise, Ollie had chosen.)

Last Alex and I had heard of the game before strolling outside for some fresh air was Tommy explaining how it's not possible he's the murderer. His reasoning was that it was obviously Ranboo, who was smirking innocently. (And we all knew he was covering for Vee, who was the murderer all along.)

"You really need to stop the abuse Iris," Alex chastised lightly, "It's gonna really get to our heads one day."

"And I hope for that day to come soon." I huffed, chuckling at my own remark.

"It's almost like you hate me?" he gasped mockingly, placing a hand to his heart before tossing his head back in distraught.

"Perhaps I do," I tsked in an attempt to minimize his ever growing ego.

"You know you love me,"

I should tell him.

It's getting out of hand.

Why is 3 simple words so difficult to admit? Especially when I know it's true?

He'd truly given his all into this relationship, bearing the weight of every burden I'd ever placed on him, keeping us a secret because I was too selfish to allow otherwise. The least he deserved was for such a minimal level of affection. 3 simple words that meant so much to me, because in reality my whole thought process should've been about him rather than myself, because everything was about him. There I sat, contemplating whether I'd allowed myself to lose control of my life, my thoughts, even myself. All over a man, though I swore never to do so again I had to face the obvious. I loved somebody, someone who loved me. No matter how much I stressed over if he truly did–deep down I knew. There is no one in the whole wide world who'd put up with me for this long, not to feel such a sense of intimacy. The worst part wasn't the realization but the thought that one day in order for him not to leave me, I'd have to tell him.

Because if there's anything I'd learnt from this relationship, it's that communication is key.

"I need to tell you something." I crossed my arms, a worried lip between my teeth as I thought.

"Do tell," He smirked, "Except if you've done something majorly illegal, because I cannot keep a secret for the life of me."

"You kept our secret." I mentioned,