Date Me, Mr. Archer (COMPLETED✔️)

thirty six | mr. and mrs. archer

AN: . . . .yeah.

The moment my office door slammed shut, I heaved a sharp breath. My lungs constricted and my vision turned blurry. Stumbling a step back, I grabbed hold of my desk, slumping on the floor, my head falling to the foot of my desk with a thump.

I fisted my hand and slammed it over my chest, hard, thinking it'd help alleviate the burning sensations in my heart. A lump the size of an iceberg choked my throat and seized my breathing. I turned my head around and suddenly, I could see two shelves, all filled up with various books and trophies. I blinked. Since when did I have two such shelves?

A pounding headache bloomed at the base of my head and a nauseatic feeling gripped me by the throat, threatening to push me over. I wrapped my arm around my throat, rubbing my neck and then my chest, my face. . . my face that was wet. Tears? I didn't even remember when I started crying but they dropped down my cheeks like raindrops.

What was this feeling? I slammed the back of my head against the desk again and even as blistering pain shook me to my core, I stayed against it. What was this pain in comparison to what Vienna was feeling right now?

She told me I brightened her before throwing her into darkness. She told me she trusted me more than anything in the world. Fuck, the fact that she went to talk with her dad even after knowing he was upto no good. . . . she was literally the bravest person I knew. How dare I?

She deserved so much better than me. She deserved someone who didn't lie to her and restrain her. She deserved someone who looked past her flaws and swore to never be the reason she cried again. She deserved someone patient and kind and loving and truthful.

I thought I didn't have a heart when I turned off my emotions after my grandfather died. Turns out, I had it all along, it was just hidden. And Vienna brought it out. She held it with care and caressed it with love. She showed me how I could still be myself after losing someone, that it wasn't the end of my life.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! What have I done!? What if she didn't show up to the wedding tomorrow? I wouldn't be mad at her, no, because she deserved to know of her wedding way longer than she did. I hated myself all these months for lying to her but I was a selfish prick.

I was afraid that she wouldn't believe me I loved her if I told her we were supposed to get married. She'd just believe this was a ploy to get her married, to tie her down. She'd think she was stripped of power and freedom if she got married; that's what she had always thought. And I hoped mercilessly for months that she could see past her biased views and accept marriage as something more than a union; as something it really was. It was love and respect, understanding and maturity, fights and kisses, all wrapped into one. And I was ready to give to her.

Until she walked into live fire and decided to burn herself and me in the process. And really, I didn't blame her. There was no guarantee I'd be able to tell her tonight, that I wouldn't have chickened out and selfishly let her deal with it the next day. I hadn't realised just how much of a bastard I was until right now, when I asked her to leave as tears stained her beautiful face after she called marriage a sham.