I Don't Love You

Moving on..?

**5 years later**
  "-And we're back with a special guest!" My TV blared out as the talk show came back on. A lady was talking to the audience about who was about to come on stage. "Please welcome, Gumball!" My face dropped. "WHAT?!" I shouted, knocking over the bowl of popcorn I had in my lap. I crawled over to the TV screen and looked at the pixelated features on his face. "I can't believe it... he's famous now! I missed him so much!" I said to myself.
"I wonder..." I glanced down at my scars and mentally winced, reminding myself of how much it hurt the night I did it. "...if he misses me too..."

  I sighed then rolled down my sleeves and continued watching the TV, not even bothering to clean up the popcorn I spilled. About thirty minutes later, the show was almost done.
"One last question for you, Gumball," the lady announced. "Are you in or have you ever been in a relationship?" She read from a que card. My ears perked up as I waited for his answer.

"Nope, I've never dated anyone," he said. The crowd gasped and murmured among themselves, trying to figure out why someone so handsome was single.

  My expression immediately turned to anger and I shouted, "um, excuse me?! We dated for three fucking years! Don't you dare say that you've never dated anyone!!" I silently hoped that he would hear me through the TV, but to no avail. The woman on TV thanked him for being on the show and he soon left the stage. "Babe? What's all that yelling for?" I heard James calling from down the hallway. I quickly got up and made sure to cover the scars on my wrists and thighs before I saw him. "N-nothing! Don't worry about it, James..." I quickly said.
"You sure? Sounded like you were talking about your ex again..."
"Oh... I was?" I said, trying to act like I didn't know. "Yes... do we need to talk?"
"No." He smiled a bit at me. "Whatever you say," he said sweetly. I smiled back and took the laundry basket that he was holding from him. "Here, I'll do the rest." He blushed a bit. "Awe, thanks sweetie." I held his chin closer to my face and put on my most dashing smile. "No problem~" he blushed even more from how close we were and slowly leaned in. I moved away and took the laundry basket with me. He stood in place, not saying anything. Just in a trance of love. I guess I have that effect on people.

  I walked down to the basement and sighed. I hate having to lie like that to James, I thought. I know its been years, but I still miss him... maybe I should just- I pulled out a shirt from the basket and examined it. It looked... familiar. The dark- almost black shirt said 'Pez Pistols' on it in bold white print and as I examined it further, I noticed that it wasn't even dirty. Why did it seem so familiar? I thought- then it hit me. That's bubba's old shirt from a few years ago. I remember him wearing it the morning after we had our first 'concert'. He looked so amazing... the way the shirt fit him perfectly, outlining the lines on his chest. I took a small sniff of the shirt and it seemed to put me in a trance. It smelled like candy and weed and... him. I shook the thought out of my head and tossed the shirt on top of the dryer and threw the rest of the clothes in then started the washer. If I keep thinking like this, it's gonna become a problem...

I sighed to myself. There's absolutely no way I'm ever getting him back...

•••••

Gumball's PoV

I sat in the eerie silence of my dressing room that was backstage of some lady's tv show that I didn't remember the name of. Despite my sudden rise of popularity, I never felt more alone in the world. I looked at myself in the mirror and glued my eyes on my shirt. Just looking at it brought back memories. Most of them were good, some were bad. In the years it's been in my possession, I slowly forgot how the shirt came into my life. I know I didn't buy it, but I don't remember where it came from- or at least I choose not to remember. It's a sad story too long to recount.

I sighed and got up from my chair then gathered my things and walked outside to where a driver waited for me. I got into the car and we drove away to my house. As soon as I got inside, I dropped everything and broke down. The thoughts of him were coming back and I didn't know how to stop them. I could see his piercing red eyes staring me down, I could hear the sound of his taming voice fill the air as he sang me a new song he's been working on, I could feel his soft lips press against mine, I could smell the alcohol on his breath between our kisses, and I could taste blood as I was beaten to the ground. I used to love him so much, and he did too just... in his own way. I could even remember the times we had sex. Sometimes I didn't want it, but I knew it made him feel better so I let him. And afterwards, he would always say he loved me...
The thought made me strangely blush. Did I... miss him? No. Of course not. Why would I miss someone who treated me so badly?

...but there were times when he treated me like a king. Breakfast in bed, taking me out for dinner, buying me whatever I wanted, and taking me anywhere I wanted to go. I now remember where my shirt came from, and the thought of seeing him again made me smile. I sniffled then stood up and took in the scent of my shirt. The smell of him has longly faded away, but it still reminded me greatly of him. I gathered my things and went upstairs, reminded that I haven't thought about him in years. When I got up to my room, I looked around at the posters I had of myself hanging on the walls and I cringed. I never did look good in photos. A sudden wave of anger flooded over me and I tore down the posters, leaving the light pink walls completely blank. The anger slowly faded away and I looked through the back of my walk in closet for something.

  I pulled out two old posters and rushed back to my room to put them up. As I unrolled them, I smiled at the figure plastered on the dark, glossy paper.

  I spent the rest of the night re-arranging my bedroom to sort of look how it used to look when I was just a troubled teen in a toxic relationship. Fairy lights lined the walls and reflected off of old band posters. One wall above my desk had a collage of photos that I found in a box, and next to that was a shelf with old cd's, records and tapes. I finally stepped back to take a look at my whole room and smiled when my eyes met the poster I had of Marshall above my bed. In the picture, he was shredding on the guitar and wearing his favourite red plaid shirt with black ripped jeans. The name of the old band was printed out in big, red, bloody letters across the top with his name under the title. I looked up at his face and blushed when I saw old lipstick prints on Marshall's face and remembered that I used to kiss the poster almost everyday, especially when I didn't see him for a while. I crawled into my bed and stood up so that my face met his glossy paper one. I lightly kissed his lips and closed my eyes, imagining that it was actually him. I pulled away after a while and stared at his features, picturing how it might've been if it was actually him. I sighed at the thought and looked away from him then got off of my bed and set up the last few things in my room before looking at my clock and noticing the time. It was 2:46am and I've stayed up for basically the whole night. I remembered that I have a concert later that day that would start my first tour and I quickly got changed into my pjs and turned off my lights (leaving the fairy lights on, of course) then rushed to bed. I needed to get as much rest as I could before my show. As I lay in my bed, I looked around at my 'new' room and smiled. The memories I made from when I was a teen were slowly coming back and for the first time in a while, I was happy. Genuinely happy. I turned over in my bed and held a pillow close to my chest, pretending it was Marshall. "Goodnight Marshi~" I whispered to the pillow. I curled up and fell asleep, having a dream that night about him which haven't happened in years.

It was the best dream I've ever had.