SWEATER PAWS | CSCOOP X READER (completed)

january

monday, january 4th, 2020. 1:32 am.
cooper

(y/n).
hey.

cooper's hands shook.

he looked down to his legs, where one of his knees rattled from the boiling pot of guilt growing in his stomach.

you haven't been answering my calls or messages, so i'm writing to you.
please check your voicemails.

the blonde boy's head droops harshly and within an instant he frantically covers his shaking body and head with his arms, cuddling his limbs into himself.

there was nothing more cooper wanted on this earth than to disappear.

i hope you respond.

the man puts the pen down, nearly punching the table alongside his prior action, and breathes in deeply, like his mother had taught him. he counts, holding his breath and releasing it when necessary, and finally looks back down to his lap.

her dark blue sweater was on it.

as if a primal instinct, he takes the sleeves and squeezes them, something he would always do when she was around, the sleeves hence being loose and wrinkly already. she never ironed the clothes she would give to cooper, considering he wouldn't either after he received them, and making them appear newer than they actually were at first glance was a waste of time - in her eyes anyway.
she still ironed his, though.

after about an hour of hiding under the navy blue wool and having his hands be engulfed by his own shirt, creating sweater paws, he finally gathered up the courage to pick up his writing utensil once more.

the tears begin to trickle once again.

he desperately wants to hide, but he doesn't allow himself, so he pushes through the blurriness of his vision and writes once more.

i guess you could say i fucked up. and i apologize. it's all my fault.
please forgive me, please come back.

napkins begin to pile on the side of his table, and forces out a small laugh at how pathetic he's being, criticizing himself in his head.

nothing makes sense without you here.
i keep spinning, my head keeps spinning.

all i see is you and your beautiful eyes, looking at mine, and us watching the san diego sunset on the beach as i play with the sleeves of your blue sweater.

don't you miss that? because i do.

cooper bends into himself once more, nearly hanging off his chair. a terrible pain envelops his chest and gut as he cries out but quickly choking it back in in fear of being heard by the others in the house. he looks at the paper in front of him, the majority of the margins already soaked with salty tears, and reads over the whole thing before adding a closing note.

please come back.

you're my all.