flower boy 2 - b. urie

xi - gianna

i sit at my desk, listening to the teacher drone on about lord knows what. i can feel brendon's stare from across the room, and my chest begins to ache. i've been giving him the silent treatment for almost three days now.

i scribble down notes from the blackboard, hearing the bell rings as i'm writing the last few words. i listen to everyone rush out of the room, and i feel someone standing by my desk. i look up.

"g...i'm sorry...i-i love you." brendon crouches in front of my desk so he's eye level with me. i keep writing notes on the page, resorting to doodling so it looked as if i was doing something. maybe then he'd go away. i'm not sure i could get one word out without crying.

"are you staying after, ms. king?" the teacher, ms. chapman asks me, peering at me from her desk in the front of the room. i raise my head.

"no, ma'am. i was just getting going." i close my notebook, put my pencil away, and shove everything into my backpack. i sling it over my shoulder, walking out of the classroom. of course, brendon follows me.

"gianna, listen to me." suddenly, he grabs my wrist, forcing me to turn around before we reach the hallway to the main entrance. i'm surprised, and my mouth gapes open as i look down at his right grip on my wrist.

"you're never rough with me," i whisper, referring to the tight grip, and he lets go almost immediately, both of us noticing the small red marks that his fingers made. he doesn't say anything.

"i don't...really have anything to say to you." i choke out.

"the shop is open tonight."

"my mom needs me to watch simon."

"bullshit." i sigh. tears well in my eyes and i'm forced to look at the ground. i feel his arms wraps around me, his muscles tightening.

"please forgive me. i love you so much."

"you ruined peoples' lives, brendon." he lets go of me, keeping at arms length as he looks into my eyes.

"i know. and i'm paying for it now. with everything else going on i can't handle you being mad at me too."

"i have to get home." i turn on my heel, tightening my grip on my bag as i stroll towards the doors leading to the parking lot. i push through the door, the wind nipping at my face.