One Shots

Better Than My Ex

TW: sad sex (probably would be better to talk something like this out, but fantasy is fantasy.)

***

The sleeve of my sweater was wet with tears. I still couldn't believe that this had happened. After two years of fighting to make things work, Carlos and I were finally done.

"I just can't believe he would do this," I tucked my head between my knees and let out another sob.

It was still so hard to get the image of him plowing my roommate out of my head. I hated him. And her. I hated everything.

"Are you certain you don't want me to slash his tires? I'll do it. I don't care," Victor said, causing me to snort out a laugh.

"No, he's not worth the effort."

Vic rubbed his warm hand between my shoulder blades. "You could say that again."

The two of us had been sitting in his room for the last hour, with me crying and complaining about what a traitor my roommate was and how shitty Carlos had treated me. Even though Vic had been telling me to leave him for over a year, he never made me feel bad about staying; he just let me know he was there for me and that he cared. He was probably the nicest friend I'd ever had.

"I just wish there was a way I could shut all these feelings off, you know? Just escape them, even for a little while. It's too much," I said, shaking my head.

This heartache was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Carlos was, without a doubt, my first love. To lose something so special was almost unbearably painful.

The room suddenly grew thick with tension. Victor's hand, which had been rubbing my back, stopped mid-rotation.

Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, I lifted my head from between my knees and cast a glance at him.

He was staring at the TV, which was playing some slow blend of acoustic music in the background. Biting on the inside of his lip, he slowly turned his gaze to meet mine.

"What?" I asked.

He looked like he was deep in thought, his dark eyebrows knitted together. I felt a stir, low in my belly, when I saw his eyes flick down to my mouth.

In a low voice, he said, "What if I helped you?"

Helped me?

"How would you do that?" I asked, looking at his lips now too. They were wet from having just been licked.

The soft orange glow that emitted from the lamp by his bed was reflecting off of his long canines. We had a running joke about him being a vampire, but I felt too tender to crack a joke. The seriousness on Vic's face only added to my somber mood.

He looked at me for a long time, and I found myself wondering what was happening inside his head. Vic and I were usually quite open with one another, but he seemed guarded. I didn't know what to make of it.

My mouth was dry as I watched, seemingly in slow motion, as he lifted his big, callused hand toward my face to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

I wasn't sure when it had happened, but our faces were closer now. So close that I could see the varying strings of color in his irises.

"I could help you forget him," he rasped, his words catching me by surprise.

Instead of facing the TV on his dresser, we were now twisted towards one another.

Half of me expected him to jump up and yell sike and tell me that this was just some weird joke.

He didn't though. He held my stare, matching my stillness and waiting for my answer.