𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙮, olive

❝ i would've died for your sins, instead i just died inside. ❞
⇄ ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹ ↻

I would honestly like to know who said love was amazing? Fuck this shit. Fuck anything related to love and fuck Pedri González.

I can't even hate him. I love him too much to hate his fucking ass.

I want to hit him but hug him at the same time. I want to kill him but kiss him at the same time. I want to hate him but I love him...

Knocking on his sister's boyfriend's door, I keep myself composed. I wait for her to open, my leg shaking on its own.

I can actually hear myself breathing. I try to clam myself now. "Liv?" She opens the door, shocked to see me.

"Yeah, hi." I keep it short, entering her boyfriend's apartment. They're always over at Pedri's, I don't even get why she's here when he's not even here.

I pass by her and head to his kitchen. She just follows behind, confused. I put down the paperwork I brought over.

My first instinct after the, not-really-a-break-up-since-we-were-never-actually-together, was to head to the office. Because that's all I know.

Before him, all I did was work, model and party. He made me realize that I was too attached to my work, that I always overworked. But he's a dick. So I'm back to working all the time. I have nothing else anyway.

He's gone, my family's 4,416.9 kilometers away, and Isa is happy with her boyfriend most of the time these days. What else am I gonna do other than work now?

Everyone hates me anyway. Even if I wanted to make friends, I'm known for being a bitch. And I am a bitch so fuck them all. Couldn't care less about any of their existences.

I take a pen out and talk. "Sign here and here." I tell her pointing at two different papers, each requiring her approval for the new project.

"What is that?" She asks, finally entering the kitchen and standing next to me, completely jumbled.

"The paperwork for the new collection to start being produced. We don't want to lose anymore time no?" I answer, my voice monotone. I take my job seriously. Even if this is Isabel, I have no sympathy when it comes to it. Not the tiniest bit. Not anymore at least.

She doesn't react, just looking me up and down. She knows me like one of her own songs. She's definitely starting to notice something's wrong.

"Just sign the papers Isabel. I need to get back to work to get them through." I insist, wanting to get this over with.

It's almost seven thirty pm. My shift is normally till five, yet I don't have anyone over me. I'm the boss. The office will stay open until I decide it closes.

She's still not moving, questioning my moves and motives. I sigh. I just turn around and start searching arounf for any kind of alcohol. But of course, little saint Pablo, doesn't own any.

"Motherfucker." I mumble to myself as I search the cabinets, drawers, fridge... My movements are mostly shaky as I start getting more and more frustrated.

"Olive what's going on?" She eventually speaks up watching as I go a little crazy in the middle of the kitchen. Funny. No?

Closing the cabinet I've just opened, I answer. "Sign the damn papers Isabel and I can get going." I might not have answered her question but at least I answered her in a way.