Scömìche One-Shots

Angel

I cried into my hands,  my body wracking with silent sobs as tears seep through my fingers. Everything hurts. It all feels worthless. I feel worthless.

I can only hear his words replaying in my head through the endless ringing in my ears.

Why do you even care?

The words ripped through my heart like a sharp dagger, tearing through me and leaving me to feel empty.

How could he think that? That I don't care? Sure, it's been days since that conversation, but each time I think about it, each word he said leaves a fresh wound. His words are burnt into my mind. Hell, that whole day is.

---

"Wait... You're still confused?" He asks with a hint of a tiny frown that he seems to be trying to hide. I nod my head and look down, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Oh," Was all he said. It hurt worse than any other words could. Was that a relieved 'oh' that my news wasn't too bad? Was it a disappointed 'oh' that I'm not gay? Was it a sad 'oh' that he thinks I don't love him?

"So, you don't love me anymore?" He asked with disappointment, his tone giving away that he's expecting me to say no.

"Of course I do! Well, in a platonic way. I think. Maybe. I don't know," I say with exasperation, sighing into my hands and running a hand through my hair. I'm sure I do. Almost positive. But if I turn out, well, straight, It'll be easier this way and wont hurt as much for either of us. Right?

He sighs and rubs his face, trying to relax it.

"You'll be okay, right?" I cautiously ask, taking a step toward him to closer inspect his face. I cant see him very well, but that's my fault. I'm the one who asked him to Starbucks at 10:56 pm. At the moment, we're outside, almost right under a dim streetlamp. So dim that I can hardly make out the sad look on his face.

"Again?" he whispers. "We're breaking up again?"

"I just want you to be happy, Mitch. I wanted to tell you. I want to be honest," I reply, stepping closer until finally I can reach him. My hand comes up to gently tug his hand from his face, but my attempt is met with a step backwards and a shaking head.

"I guess what we had... It has no meaning now, does it?" He sighs, looking up and allowing his tender, red eyes to meet my worried stare.

"I still love it, Mitch. I still love you. I still love your hair. Your smile, your laugh, your habits. They were what kept me going through everything. They still are." I attempt. He thinks he's not important, doesn't he? He thinks he's not beautiful to me anymore.

He quickly steps away from me again, breaking eye contact and yet again shaking his head.

"Don't. Please. I don't care if you mean it. I don't care if they're true. Just... don't," He sorrowfully begs as if my words were poison to him. I nod my head after a few seconds of silence, shoving my cold hands in my pockets and letting out a small, visible puff of air into the cold darkness.

"Will you be okay?" I hesitantly ask. He nods his head, lifting it to meet my eyes again. I almost physically break down, scanning over his face to see his eyes red and puffy, tears slowly streaming down his pale cheeks.

"Are you sure?" I try once more. He suddenly looks angry and looks down to his feet again.

"Why do you care?" He huffs out of anger, looking back up with a darkness over his eyes. I stay silent, shocked that he would think I don't.

"Well?" He tries again. "Why do you even care?"

I stand there dumbfounded, my mouth opening and closing as I try to form words, fresh tears stinging my eyes. I look down, wanting to tell him everything. All that comes out is a simple whisper.

"You're my angel, Mitch," I sadly speak, my eyes dropping to my toes as my head bows. "You're everything."

He stands there in silence, seemingly frozen, before sighing and pulling out his phone.

"I'm getting an Uber, seeing as my taxi obviously drove away," He says, almost in a whisper.

"Mitch, I can give you a ride. I-" I'm quickly cut off as he holds a finger to my face.

"Save it, Scott. I'll be okay," He replies, stuffing his phone in his pocket and walking to a bench to the right of the doors of Starbucks. I nod my head again, walking to my car.

"Scott?" He calls after me. I frown at the lack of a nickname, thinking how much I'll miss them.

"Yeah?" I look back, turning my head and looking at him over my shoulder. He gives a small smile, which is obviously fake.

"Drive safe."

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OK I'M SORRY I'M MAKING A PART TWO DON'T WORRY

Also sorry it's so short. All my drafts got deleted, so I decided to write this real quick. Exactly 809 words from the first one to the last. Damn I'm lazy.

Also, if you haven't already, like I advertised in my last one shot, please visit scomichequeen and --pentaholic's stories. They're amazing writers and deserve way more views than they have now.

From now on I promise to keep the advertising to a minimum. Love you guys. :)