You didn't hear from James after the parade.
That night, he had sent you a long list of things that might help you and your brain, and one of them was to start a diary. Taking a clean notebook from your bottom drawer, you started jotting down your thoughts and the events of the day.
At first, you had spent a good ten minutes staring at the blank page, wondering what to write. Eventually, though, you got the hang of it, and it became easier as the days went on.
You messaged him in thanks, telling him that the journaling had been a good idea and that you wanted to make it up to him. You didn't get a response. You didn't get a response for a week.
During that week, the part of your entries that were about him looked a lot like this:
Day One:
Haven't heard from James today. Wonder if he's tired from the parade last night. I don't blame him, I had a lay-in this morning.
Day Two:
Didn't hear from James today either. I guess he has a lot of school work to do. I certainly do.
Day Three:
Still nothing. Maybe he's revising for an end of unit assessment?
Day Four:
Nothing. Did I do something wrong?
Day Five:
I definitely did something wrong. I had to go and ruin another friendship, didn't I? Why the hell do I even bother?
Day Six:
It's all my fault.
Day Seven:
....
On the seventh day, Frankie's boss called him to work on his day off to examine a crime scene. When he answered the phone, you noticed his eyes widened and he muttered, 'Shit,' under his breath.
'What's going on?' you questioned once he put the phone down, trying to sound innocent and mildly interested.
'Oh—nothing. Just a...regular murder.'
'Can I come?'
'No!' Realising that he had shouted, he hastily said, 'No,' again in a softer voice. 'I don't think that's a good idea.'
'Why not?'
'It just isn't.'
'Who died?'
'I don't think telling you is a good idea.'
You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. 'Oh yeah? And why not? You'll have to tell me eventually, so why not get it over with and tell me now?'
Frankie took a deep breath, rubbing his temples as he got up and went upstairs to get changed. 'I'll tell you in a second. Just...wait there, okay?'
You remained on the sofa, hands twisting in your lap. Before your mind could start overanalysing everything, your phone vibrated. You grabbed it, hastily checking the screen to see what notification had caused it to buzz.
It was a message from Brent.
brento mento:
hey! what you doing today?
YOU ARE READING
Deep Like Water (Yandere!BEN Drowned X GN!Reader)
HorrorYou never expected your parents to abandon you at the age of sixteen, and if it wasn't for the man your parents took in when you were ten, you would have been completely alone. Even after a year, you still half-expected them to come back. Your seven...
