Insanity

Me, Myself, and I

Dean sighed as he walked into the familiar house.

A cold feeling hit him like a brick.

He rubbed his arms as his anxiety began to attack him.

Dean took a deep breath, rubbing his arms.

You deserve all of this, you stupid slut.

Hunter doesn't even love you.

He wishes you were dead.

Maybe you should be.

Dean pulled at his hair as tears began to flow freely.

Calm down, Dean.

It's just your anxiety.

Hunter loves-

No, he doesn't!

He hates you.

Shut up. Let Dean believe in love for once!

Dean sighed as he pushed the voices away.

Only HIS voices argued with each other.

Dean pulled himself together before he cleaned the house from top to bottom.

He also made a pot of coffee.

At 4 AM, Hunter came stumbling through the door, his shirt barely on him.

Dean inhaled sharply, walking over to the man who was supposed to be faithful to him.

Hunter glanced up at Dean, his eyes glassy and watery.

"B-Baby, I'm so s-s-s-sorry." Hunter stuttered and slurred.

"I know." Dean stated coldly.

"Love me. Show me how to love." Hunter mumbled as he fell into Deans weak body.

Dean pulled Hunters drunk body to the kitchen, sitting him down at the table.

"How do you want your coffee?" Dean asked quietly.

"Black. I have to sober up for work." Hunter mumbled.

Dean sighed as he poured the black liquid into the biggest mug they owned.

He set the mug in front of Hunter, sitting across the table from him with his own mug of coffee with creamer.

Hunter looked up to Dean, tears running down his face.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm a terrible person." Hunter cried.

Dean looked at Hunter with an empty expression.

He decided not to answer the drunk man in front of him for a moment.

When Dean was ready to speak, he looked Hunter dead in the eyes.

"You're right. You are terrible. For somebody who says they love me, you sure have a shit way of showing it. I've tried, Hunter. I've tried to stick it out. I've given you chance after chance. Things go great for a few days, than this. All over again. At least a few times a week. I'm tired. My body is tired. My mind is breaking. And you don't give two shits, do you? You know what? Don't answer that. Because I don't wanna know. I don't wanna know how you actually feel. What you feel now, as indecisive as you are, is unbearable. I never know what you're thinking. So when you act, I don't know how to react. No matter what I do, I'm the bad guy. I'm the one who comes out of this with the scars. Whether they're physical, emotional, or mental. I'm the one getting hurt. You're just playing a sick game with me. A game that's designed for me to lose. A game designed for everybody else to get the best of you. But shouldn't it be the opposite? That's what a relationship is. You give your partner the best. But that doesn't exist. So fuck it. I'm done with you, Hunter. Fuck you and your games. Have a nice and dandy life. I hope you find somebody so perfect for you that it hurts." Dean ranted.