The Flower Shop in L.A. [CRANKIPLIER]

Slow Burning [Page 1]

(TW: Mental break down, slight self harm.)

To be honest, Ethan saw it. It was 1:27 in the morning, and he couldn't sleep. He planned on messaging Mark, seeing if he was awake. But when he clicked on to the messages, the three dots popped up before he could do anything.

And there, Ethan sat, on his bed, in the dark, for fifteen minutes. He watched the "typing" bubble roll over and over again, even more minutes went by. Fifteen, twenty, twenty five, though it seemed like years to him. But he waited, cause the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it was important. Told him something was being typed, something he needed to hear.

But it never came. 

After twenty five minutes of waiting, it disappeared. No message was sent. It was gone.

And that broke Ethan, for reasons he didn't know. It broke him down, he knew that it was something serious, something that needed to be said, something important, but it was gone. And it hurt.

He sat there, tears streaming from his eyes as he looked at the blank ceiling. What was wrong with him? Why was he sobbing? Why did something make him get his hopes up only to let him down. He didn't understand why he was so upset, and neither do you, do you? It's scrambled in your mind, it doesn't make sense. But that's how Ethan felt. And my job is to tell you this story in great detail.

More sobs came from him, as his fingers found their way to his hair. He balled the blue, half dead locks into his fist, pulling at them. It hurt like hell, it really did. His fingers dug into his forearms, though they were so chewed down, it made no difference. 

Ethan, our poor Ethan could only sob, sniffle, and gargle. While he shook his hands violently and pulled his hair, it didn't work. All it did was hurt his scalp and made his fingers go numb.

"Walking in figures eight. I hope I'm not too late."

Ethan hummed the tune as it came to his thoughts. His shaking hands reached up to his favorite plant right beside his bed, a little blue flower. Simple, tiny, but gorgeous to him. He slowly lowered it into his lap, wrapping his legs around it and hummed some more.

"Figure eight clouds, I'm working things out. Clouds looking strange."

His saliva choked it's way into his throat and mouth, causing him to snort and wipe the still streaming tears. This time, though, he used his voice when he sang.

"Paper cut fingers dance on the strings."

He choked, the words he knew all to well coming up.

"If I could see you right now, I'd dance just for you when the nightlight goes out."

He sobbed, clutching the tiny plant and the blue Soft Boi hoodie he wore.

"Would you dance for me too? I'm counting on you."

Ethan's voice, now practically screaming the words to the song in his head, grew harsh and desperate. He truly, truly loved Mark, didn't he?

"The corner shop closes in under an hour, let's buy too much booze and get drunk in the shower."

Why was he even so fascinated with him anyways? It never made sense, nothing ever did when he got like this. Why he even broke down in the first place, it still remained a mystery to him. And now, it felt worthless loving Mark. He couldn't even bother to finish out a message. Plus he had Naomi. Ethan really needed to stop dreaming.

He let more of the song play out in his head, as his breathing began to slow slightly. He still picked at his skin, he still shook his hands, but it was beginning to feel better. But a thought still remained, a thought he didn't want to have. It scared him, honestly. But I guess this is what happens when you hurt for so long, it feels numb. Even when you love someone so dearly, after playing dumb for so long, it feels stupid. Meaningless.

"I'm trapped in my tiny human brain, and it's killing me. Oh, I'm fine, yeah I'm alright. If I move my hands fast enough I wont die."

------

Mark's eyes watered, as right after he deleted the message, his stomach felt wrong. It all did. He didn't know what came over him, why he was even typing those things, his brain was just... clogged. His stomach turned with every thought of Ethan, every thought of Naomi.

He messaged her. It was the only thing he knew to do, plus he felt terrible for almost confessing to Ethan. He's still her boyfriend. He's still supposed to be loyal.

Naomi

Mark: Hey Nomii?

Naomi: Hey Markie! What's up hon?

Mark: I was just kind of thinking about things, I was wondering if we could meet up for lunch today? I honestly need to talk to you about something.

Naomi: Okay, dear! Al's Pancake World?

Mark: Lmaoo, yeah. Meet you at twelve.

Naomi: Twelve it is :)

____________________

Was this more of a short chapter? Yeahhh lmaoo-

Was this kind of a vent chapter (while also staying on topic with the story line)? You'll never know :D

Was the chapter name made to mess with y'all? its_stupidhours specifically? Yes.

WELL! I'm still really happy to have this going, excited as f u c k to see that this has over 1k reads! Thanks for sticking around, see you next Monday!! 

Stay Gay, bitches.