I can't believe I'm writing so soon. Maybe I'm having some weird inspiration, I don't know. This is probably my first and last Jandré story, I'm not really a fan of the couple. It's not even a story, more of a drabble... Okay, whatever.
If you review, it would make me a little less miserable though. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious.
"This is wrong."
His conscience always decides to advice him in the most inappropriate time. He hates it. He knows damn well he isn't supposed to do what he's doing.
His heart breaks into million pieces every time he sees his best friend's face. When Beck flashes him his unknowing kind smile, André just dies a little bit.
But when Beck reaches to hug her or to kiss her, André forgets about all the guilt. He gets mad. So he doesn't spend much time with them. He hates seeing them happy.
Or better, seeing him happy.
Because she is not happy with him. She's stopped loving him a long time ago. But she just can't break his heart. Not after everything he's done for her.
…
A strong hand makes a sharp move. Broken glass. Blood on his hand.
"ANDRÉ!"
A fist hits the wall.
"STOP IT!"
"Tell me, why are you doing this?!" He practically roars.
She smiles in between tears.
"You don't understand what he and I have."
"You can't feel obligated to him forever!"
"Oh, but I do. And I always will."
…
In the end, he's alone. A glass of whiskey in his left hand and a gun in his right.
Oh, wait, he's always been alone.
What an irony.
BOOM!