The Lost Boys • Imagines

Imagine #9 - Paul

Imagine Paul comforting you after your boyfriend dumps you.

Word Count: 629

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Tears roll down your cheeks as you go over what he said to you for the thousandth time. You should've seen it coming, but you were blinded by your desire to be loved. He never truly loved you, though. If he did, then he wouldn't have abandoned you for that other woman.

A wretched sob breaks through your lungs, though you muffle it by biting the sleeve of your sweater. Why weren't you good enough for him? Why did he have to go to her instead of you?

You shudder and cry on the sandy beach, far away from civilization. The crisp night air is calming and the stars blink sadly at you from their spots in the sky.

"Hey, girl," a friend's voice calls out cheerfully. That cheerfulness dissipates as soon as he sees your tear stained face.

"What happened?" The usually lighthearted jokester questions, all levity gone.

"My boyfriend broke up with me," you cry, turning away from him.

Paul sits beside you, "What?!"

"Yeah," you sob, "He's with that Surfer Nazi chick. Apparently he's been seeing her for weeks behind my back and he finally had the nerve to tell me. . . over the phone."

Saying it aloud makes the reality hurt even more. You loved him and he just cast you aside like you were nothing. Hanging your head in shame, you sniffle wretchedly, almost forgetting that Paul is there to witness it.

"Hey, it's okay," he wraps an arm around you and rubs circles on your arm. "He's a complete idiot for giving you up! Not to mention, he's the biggest jackass around if he couldn't even do it to your face."

When you don't stop crying, he tries another tactic, "Maybe he was scared you'd beat him up for cheating on you, huh?"

Paul always teases you, and whenever he does you either tease him back, laugh, or glare, depending on your mood. Tonight, you chuckle and nod. "He probably was."

"Hell ya," he nods earnestly, "You're scary when you're mad."

That makes you chuckle again until the sadness washes it away. "Maybe that's why. Maybe I was too much of a stick-in-the-mud."

"No! Don't you ever say that! He was a douche and it's not your fault."

"I loved him so much," you whisper, another tear rolling.

He sighs, tightening his grip slightly, "I know, girl. But, he's not worth it. I know that's cliche, but it's true. If he was worth the time he wouldn't have cheated on you, or belittled you, or disrespected you. If he was worth it, he'd treat you like an equal, or like royalty." He stops himself from adding, 'like I would.'

Paul would never mistreat you. He'd do his damnedest to keep you from pain: physical or emotional.

"Thanks Paul, but I can't help thinking that it's my fault."

"It's not your fault," he emphasizes, turning you to face him. "He was blind as hell to miss the treasure he had."

You smile up at him, some of the misery lessening, "You think I'm treasure?"

"I think you're beyond treasure, babe. Priceless."

He stands up and offers you his hand. As he helps you up he says, "Now, I know the cure for bad breakups. Booze - a lot of it - food, some blankets, a warm fire, and someone to bitch to. You have the last one - me - so we just need the first four."

You chuckle and sniffle again before following him to his bike. "The boys won't mind me coming to the cave?"

"Nah, they won't mind," he looks over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around him.

"It means a lot to me that you're doing this," you inform him.

He grins, "No problem, babe. I hate seeing you sad."