Johnny x reader Sing

Chapter 11

A/n: Hey guys! I know, it's been so long since I last updated, I'm just not sure where to go with this book after the show, so if you guys had any suggestions I would really appreciate them. Life is throwing a lot at me right now but I'm going to try and get back into my schedule.

Word count-

Enjoy~

Your POV

I didn't have anything to do now that the theater was gone. The theater was the only thing that ever got me to leave the house, and now that it was gone I haven't had anything to get me out, even my bed. I haven't even had the motivation to talk to my brother and Mr. Moon, who were both staying out in the pool house. I knew they didn't want to talk about what had happened, and I didn't either, for it would bring back all of the memories of the place.

The place I called my home.

But I guess I don't deserve a home.

A knock on my door slightly startled me, breaking me from my thoughts. "What, Mom?" I asked, thinking it was her; she was the only one talking to me at the moment.

"It's me, Johnny."

I sat up quickly. Why was he here? What did he want? "Uh, Hey." I cursed myself for being so awkward.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Uh—uh, just a moment," I insisted. I quickly got up and shoved the few things around my room and under my bed. I then grabbed my small hand mirror—something I tried to avoid at all costs. I was met by my face. I forced myself to not think about how I hated to look at it, only focusing on my frizzy and tangled hair. I smoothed it down the best I could before saying, "You can come in now."

Johnny walked in the room, and I couldn't help but feel the nervous butterflies attack my stomach at the sight of him. Ever since I mad met him I couldn't help but feel nervous around him. No one had ever treated me nicely growing up, and now that someone was... I didn't know how to act—how to treat them. Even I knew that that was sad, that no one should have to feel that way.

But does that include me?

"How are you?" He asked.

"Okay, I guess. But why are you here?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Just to talk," He said, surprising me.

I let out a small laugh. "Why?"

"You know, to see if you're all right after what happened," He admitted.

I turned around at the mention of the theaters destruction, but I didn't want to show that it hurt me. "Why wouldn't I be?" I asked.

"Because," He said, "I know how much the theater and music means to you know."

He caught me. I felt like I was exposed, in the open, but for some reason I didn't feel scared. "Why?"

"Why, What?" He asked.

I turned around to face him. "Why are you really this nice to me?"

"I've already told me, you've given me no reason to be rude."

"So, I didn't give anyone else a reason either, but no one has ever treated me right—like I'm a person like them and have feelings and a heart and I care—"

"People care about you," He insisted.

"Yeah, right," I snapped.

"They do," he stated.

"Who? Who, Johnny? Who?!" I asked.

"The whole team does," He suggested.

"Yeah, right," I disagreed. "They never talk to me, or even really care that I'm there."

"Well maybe it's because you never give them the chance to."

I looked to Johnny, a hot flash of shock coursing through me. Could he really mean that? Should I be giving them more opportunities to talk to me? Would they mind if I opened up to them? That would me weird, I concluded. Who really knows me?—no one. Not even my brother. But could it happen?

"I hate how you act like you're something you're not—a monster," he said, not giving me time to think. "You may look different but you're still a person like everyone else."

I had to hold back a sob as he spoke the words I thought I would never hear anyone ever say to me, the words I've been trying to convince myself with for the past fourteen years of my life. A rush of dizziness suddenly flooded me to the point that I had to grab my nearby dresser.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"What makes you different from everyone else?" I asked, despite the shakiness of my breath and the tears threatening to slip.

"Because... " He sighed. "Because I know what it's liked to never feel loved. When my mom died my dad was never the same. He because harsher and less forgiving. Still, he wanted to me my dad, he cared, but wanted what was best for me, which he thought was joining his gang. And when I didn't want to join... he didn't... we haven't... I haven't spoke to him since."

"I'm sorry." Is all I could say.

"It's not your fault," He said. "And either is the way people treat you."

My breath hitched in my throat. "Thank you," I croaked.

He smiled. "You're welcome."

And I did something I've never done before. I smiled to someone besides my family.
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A/n: Is anyone interested in making a cover for this story?

See ya next time, my dudes.

~Becca