WHEN IT ENDS || Jason McCann Fictional Story||

13.~|Stopping Me From Falling|~

Songs for this chapter:

Already Gone
by Sleeping At Last

Sociopath
by StayLoose, Bryce Fox

Gorgeous
by Taylor Swift

Call It What You Want
by Taylor Swift

Get Used To Me
by Poo Bear ft. Justin Bieber

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Silence. It's collegiate definition is muteness, or stillness. As for its use as an oxymoron, 'deafening silence' is a widely used connotation. But why even in the midst of silence do I find myself anything but mute or still? Even though there's no viable reason?

No, I'm not scared of him trying to pull something to get back at me for littering mud inside his car. Instead, there's more than hundreds of multiple mixed emotions and questions arising at the rare end of my mind.

Was that only his pity on me?

He was —no doubt— wrathful from how I portrayed Fredo's behaviour towards me and completely reprimanded him, though that wasn't what I was originally trying to go for. I admit that in the heat of arguments, I say a potful of stuff I don't even mean or would ever insinuate on anyone. But I didn't want to cause him to get aggravated, not intentionally at least. I only told him what was apparent, what seems and sounds apparent. I'd try my best and yet I won't come up with any sort of derogative accusations on his side. I can't. And I know it.

And that somehow tells me that the bearing he had on me, while we were at the parking lot, getting lost in our childish immaturity —which is what I thought it was— was a mere act of cold-hearted yearning over me. He couldn't have done that out of commiseration only to let me have a taste of childhood now, could he? He knows how much of my innocence I missed out on. He knows how it was practically forced on me to let go of it at an unbelievably early age. And maybe that's why he . . .

He wouldn't do anything like that though, right? He's my friend? And he knows how profuse my animosity for sympathy is. I've told that to him myself once, and he didn't forget it. He couldn't have. Right?

So, why does he still seem so indignant?

Maybe, he figured how I was ungrateful to him, when he tried to set aside his pride and vaingloriousness and give me a moment of joy, and he got pissed. I did, after all, agglomerate a load of mud in my clothes and splatter it all over his fancy ride.

Or, maybe, he's still the naive and stupid Daniel, throwing a temper tantrum because he lost his prized possession.

Well, he didn't really lose it . . . Technically, he just lost the seat covers so . . .

When he pulls over, I still see his preschooler demeanor present in the driver's seat.

"Someone's a little raw. And that's not me," I state, lifting my hands in indication of not intending to offend anyone.