Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

DECODE [A]

I TAPPED MY pen rhythmically as I sat in a meeting, distracting by thoughts that all-consumed me. All of them about Miguel and I.

Was there even a Miguel and I?

There would be nights where he'd come to my place, give me the world, then pretended I didn't exist the next day.

It was like everything was meaningless. Like I was meaningless.

And I didn't want to ask him about it. Of course I don't. It's embarrassing I have to ask if we're even an item.

It keeps me awake at night, really. I analyze everything he says to me. How he gets annoyed with me the day after we're together.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my thigh. I look up and see everyone staring at me. I look back down, seeing my pen crushed in pieces.

I clear my throat, glancing at Miguel, then his hand, then everyone else.

"Sorry," I whisper, my voice shaky. I press my lips together and the meeting continues, and so does Miguel's hand on my thigh.

Throughout the end of the meeting, I tried to keep my mind off of Miguel's hand on my thigh because otherwise, instead of my pen, I'd probably break the table.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up once the meeting is over, leaving almost immediately. I could tell I had received weird looks, but I didn't care.

I felt like needles were stabbing me all over, I felt my blood pressure rising, my breathing growing heavier... everything was too much right now.

"Y/N!"

I stopped in my tracks as I recognized the voice. I sigh, feeling the frustrated tears well in my eyes.

I feel him step closer.

"Are you okay?" I hear his voice once again.

"Now you want to talk to me, huh?" I scoff, keeping my head turned away from him.

"L-Look, I'm sorry," he sighs. I could practically see the crinkle in his nose he gets.

"I don't know if I can do this," I told him, raising my head as I stared up at the ceiling, trying not to let the tears come out.

I heard him let out another sigh.

"Come on, Y/N, don't do this," he said, his foot tapping against the floor slightly.

I shook my head, "It's too much. I don't know what we are. All I crave in my life is consistency, and you know that."

He steps closer, coming around me. He looks down at me and placing his fingers on my chin, pulling it down slightly so I look him in the eyes.

He wipes the tears that fall out of my eyes.

"You know I can't give you that."

I close my eyes, a strangled cry leaving my throat as my head comes in contact with his chest.

"I don't know how I fell for you so hard," I cry, "You treat me like shit, Miguel."

"I know, I know," he wraps his arms around me, running small patters on my back.

"I can't fucking decode you," I shake my head, taking a sharp inhale, "I'm so tired of thinking if you ignoring me is somehow my fault."

"It's not your fault, Y/N. It never is," he whispers, his fingers coming up to my shoulders, "I'm sorry, Y/N, really."

I look up at him, my eyes bloodshot and my tears stinging my cheeks.

"You have me wrapped around your finger," I whisper, my fists lightly coming in contact with his chest, "And I don't know how to not be. Why? Why am I so infatuated with you?"

"Because no one will ever love you like I do," he holds my fists still against his chest.

"So, it's either be loved the most on and off, or never be loved enough everyday?" I sniffle, looking up at him, "How is that fair?"

"It's not," he shook his head, "And I'm sorry I can't give you more."

My head comes back in contact with his chest. I take a deep breath, lightly tapping on his chest.

And at that moment, I try to forget him. I want to forget him. I need to forget him.

I push myself off of him. I wipe my tears and stand up straight. I sniffle, giving him one last look.

I walk away.