Emma Watson, Florence Pugh, Elizabeth Olsen, oneshots (GxG)

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 ⚌ 𝐄.𝐌

You never thought that you would be in this position, catching your girlfriend in bed with your best friend of all people.

You didn't want to believe it, so you didn't.

They didn't see you.

They didn't hear you open the door.

They didn't hear when you closed the door.

They didn't hear when you walked out of the house feeling numb.

They didn't hear you.

How could they? The moans were too loud.

So you drove home, you didn't cry.

You wanted to cry, yet you didn't.

You walked into the bedroom you shared with the girlfriend you thought was loyal to you.

Now you knew that wasn't true.

Looking around at the pictures Emma hung up, of you, of her, of you two together, saying you could look at them when she was gone.

You wondered if she was always working when she left.

Or if she was going behind your back.

You thought it was the latter.

You laid the pictures face down, and laid on the bed.

Only to get up and rip away the sheets, you couldn't bear to lay on anymore.

You didn't come home last night, you had a late night at your job and asked your best friend to keep Emma company.

Did they sleep together in your bed?

On your couch?

On your counter?

As you and Emma did many times.

So you laid out on the bare bed, you didn't know what to feel.

You didn't know if you should be mad.

Sad.

Happy.

Hurt.

You didn't know. But felt as if you were feeling them all at once.

But you still felt numb. What was this feeling?

You stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, before passing out.

You woke in the middle of the night, only to shuffling on the bed, Emma.

She laid down next to you wrapping her arm around your stomach.

And you grimaced, cringing at her touch.

So you moved away. She followed.

So you turned to have your back, facing her, every time she tried to touch you, you shrugged her off.

She was upset at first, but then put it on you being on your period.

You didn't like to be touched on your period, you were irritable, only wanting affection if you initiate it.

The next few weeks, you pretended that nothing had happened.

That you saw nothing. Emma and your best friend continued with their affair.

Only Emma noticed how distant you were. How you looked like a zombie walking around.

Yet you wouldn't talk to her. You wouldn't talk to your best friend, yet they couldn't put together that you found out.

And one night, after Emma's continuous advances of sex, you snapped out of whatever trance or pain you were in.

You pushed her off your lap, and she looked at you shocked, "What the hell Y/N?!"

You stood and looked at her passively, "it was never real was it?"

She looked confused, and asked, "What're you talking about?" You didn't look angry, you didn't look sad.

You looked at her as if you finally accepted that your relationship was ending. So all you did was say your best friend's name.

And the shocked look on Emma's face, she knew you knew, and immediately started begging for forgiveness.

You wouldn't forgive her, you couldn't forgive her. And if you were being honest to yourself, you didn't want to.

But you had one question, just one. In the back of your mind, "Was any of what we had real? Was it ever real?"

Emma looked crestfallen as she slowly shook her head, again you didn't look mad, somewhat relieved.

It was never real, so maybe that part stung a bit, but at least you found out.

That night you were finally able to get some sleep, at the hotel you stayed at. A small smile appearing on your face as you drifted off.

In your mind, you dodged a bullet, or did you lose the love of your life?