Marc Marquez Imagines

He Wouldn't Say It

"I would like to have the Pumpkin Spice Latte," I ordered, looking at the cashier boy that was in front of me.

"Okay, what's your name, sweetheart?" He asked, making me smile a little.

"It's (Y/N)," I told him. He nodded and wrote my name on the cup.

"What about you, sir?" He looked at Marc who was clenching his jaw, like he was mad.

"Nothing." He rolled his eyes while answering it.

"O-Okay, that'll be $4.90, a special 10% discount for a pretty lady." He winked at me, while I just take my wallet out from my bag.

***

"Marc, what do you want to do tonight?" I asked him as I rest my butt on the long leather couch at his house. He just stayed quiet, scrolling through his phone without looking at me.

"Uh, Marc?" I poked his shoulder while giggling a little.

"Stop it, (Y/N)! You're so fucking annoying, flirting with guys that you just met!" He shouted at me as he locked his phone. "Why am I with you? You're just a s-"

I let out a whimper, not prepared of what he's going to say. He wouldn't say it.

"You're just a slut."

And with that, I end up crying. He didn't even comfort me by saying sorry or anything sweet, he just got up from the couch and just leave me in his house.