21 Years Young (Jack Maynard)

{5} Disbeleif

It was most likely just a heat of the moment thing. You know, Jack saying he loves me. He was getting all worked up about mine and Conor's 'relationship', after all. Besides, I would never believe that he loves me when he did what he did. Treating me like I'm an object and throwing me away once he squeezed out all of my uses. That, of course, wasn't the main reason why we broke up, but it was definitely a trigger for what really happened. Honestly, I would be insane if I decided to try a second time.

I lay across my sofa, my phone in my hand and scrolling through my Instagram. I had made the decision of wearing my hoodie and black leggings and not going out all day. I found it overwhelmingly stressful yesterday, and I didn't want to add to that pressure. But for god's sake, curse my hyperactivity. I have never been able to think straight. Ever. For the majority of my life, I thought this was normal. But my mind won't focus on just one thing and always finds a way to wander to the things that I'd rather not think about.  So of course, while I told myself to relax, images of yesterday kept popping into my head.

I sighed and curled my fingers around a lock of my hair. I needed music but I couldn't be asked to go all the way to my room to get my headphones. Typical. I buried my face into my sleeves, wondering how to dig myself out of this hopeless situation, when my phone screen lit up.

I grabbed it from the coffee table and opened Instagram to see that I had a DM. I got a message from the one and only, Jack Maynard.
Jack_Maynard: Really? Dating my brother? I knew you were a bitch.

Oh okay. He's calling me a bitch when he was the one who made me like this. Honestly, he hasn't even grown up even a little bit. The fame has gotten to his head. And he's so desperate to say something, even though I blocked his number, he still found a way to reach me.

I ignored it, being in no mood to respond. A few minutes later, I got another DM.
Jack_Maynard: I know you've read this. Answer me. I still don't believe what you've done.

Fuck you, read receipts. I rolled my eyes, finally replying, telling him to leave me alone because Conor and I are happy together. He left it at that, but I could practically hear him scowl through the phone.

So immature.

...

The next day, I chilled out with Conor. I sing a little, as I used to do theatre when I was younger. I was no where as good as Conor but good enough for us to be able to harmonise with each other. There was a few songs where we just decided to go crazy and sing loudly off key, usually to Britney Spears or High school musical. Overall, I had a lot of fun singing with Conor.

We sat on the sofa, watching some random Netflix show. Then Jack walked in. We just glared at if each other. If looks could kill, we would both be suffering from a long and painful death.

'So', spoke Conor, breaking the tension between us. 'Maybe this is a good time to have an actual conversation. All three of us'.