Crush Oneshots | Crush x Reader

[𝟰𝟵] ⚠️ Iɴ Yᴏᴜʀ Aʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ

Y/N - your name
C/N - crush's name

Song: "Exhausted" -  chloe moriondo

⚠️WARNING⚠️ this is bubbling with angst

<self harm & suicide included>

pandas-and-peaches you inspired me to write a sad one heheh

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He was my best friend, yet, he was so much more than that. He was my life partner, my world, my everything... He was the reason I got out of bed each and every single morning. He was the reason I would always show a genuine smile. He was the reason for my joy and laughter. He was the reason I went to sleep feeling warm inside every single night. He was my soulmate.

We did everything together, from working at the same company to spending our holidays together no matter what. From going to amusement parks every other month to filing our taxes with one another. No amount of time I spent with him would ever be too much.

But it was too little.

Even now as I look back at and cherish every second we laughed, cried, danced and quarrelled with each other, it feels like it wasn't enough. It feels like I didn't spend enough of my minutes, hours, days with him. C/N kept me going through thick and thin. He was my wonderwall, and by God was he a wonder. It was a miracle an amazing person like him wanted to date me.

But now, as I sit dressed in all black listening to the pitiful person speaking at the podium, all I feel is emptiness. I want to cry alongside his mother; I want to feel the misery that is reality, but... there is nothing inside of me. My heart is frozen and my brain is numb.

His portrait, stood pathetically beside the podium, makes me want to vomit. He looks as gorgeous as ever, but the aura does not match the atmosphere of the room. Nothing feels right to me anymore, it constantly feels like I can't breathe. The past week of pain has felt like an eternity, and nothing I will ever do will appease it.

There is no reason for me to be here anymore.

I was invited up to say a few words, but all that formed in my throat was a lump as I gazed out at the crowd of melancholy friends and relatives in touch with their emotions. Salty tears were streaming down their faces, tissues being passed out continuously. It was at that moment, I snapped. But not in the way you would think.

Instead of bursting out in pathetic sobs, I found myself sprinting out of the hall and to my car. As I sat in it, I found myself turning the ignition with my mind on autopilot, the guests rushing out the building a distant memory. My thoughts were absent as I sped down the street to my flat, driving regulations irrelevant. I knew what I had to do.

The apartment was cold and void of life. It had never felt like this before. Everything felt so... so... wrong. I had already tricked myself into thinking nothing would ever be right again.

I locked the latch on the door. I never used to, but I felt an urge coursing through my veins like a powerful spell. The spell was bewitching my body, and making me prepare for something I was yet unknown of. Soon, I found myself tidying up the mess that had become our... my room. Folding clothes and stacking books. Polishing surfaces and making beds.

My desk was the last thing I cleaned. But after I had, I sat down on the oakwood stool and began writing. The spell was pulling on me like a puppeteer, and I could not resist the strength of its strings.

Words were written, some of them unspeakable. Yet I still ended up leaving my room with the letter enveloped neatly, a short address of "From Y/N" decorating the back.

The kitchen was the spell's next desired destination, and I found myself moving a chair to climb up on. I managed to reach the highest cupboard, pulling out a small white plastic bottle that had a satisfying rattle to it. Then I collected a cooking knife from the cutlery drawer, my steps taking me to the lounge without bothering to return the chair.

I pulled up my sleeves, revealing scars developed solely over the past one-hundred-and-sixty-eight hours, and pressed the blade to my wrist. I dragged it along slowly and painfully, releasing crimson droplets on to my smooth skin. I still felt numb.

Upon repeating the action on the other wrist, I reached with shaky hands towards the bottle. An old glass of water sat on the table, and that was soon in my hands as well. Five round pills of a creamy colour sat in my palm, five round pills that would end my misery. They were his medication. But, despite him never overdosing and only consuming the prescripted amount, they failed. Hopefully they would succeed for me.

I took the first one, and then took a gulp of water. I then took the second. And then the third. And then the fourth... Until suddenly my palm was empty of pills and the spell had released its hold of me.

All I could do was gaze at the empty glass of water with blank eyes. My very being felt empty of both emotion and life. Even though my train of thought was back, this still felt right. When you are mentally dead, being physically dead is merely an upgrade.

My throat began to close, as my mind drifted to intoxicated levels within seconds. Hallucinations of C/N flourished within my vision peripheral, his handsome face smiling at me in all its glory. I felt my lips curve upwards into a dizzy smile, while my body began to feel faint. My heart rate was dropping, and my vision was slowly ceasing. Blackness consumed my soul with tantalising dominance: there was no choice but to give in.

The last thing I felt?

My head hitting the sofa cushions.

——————

ok wow i'm writing this at night and i'm striking some bad chords

no fun fact today :(

[1037 words]