I know, I know! What am I doing writing drabbles when I should be updating? I really don't know, honestly.
I'm looking for a beta, so if you're interested, PM me!
I own nothing...
Mark sank down onto his plaid bedspread, cradling his head in his hands.
He had just broken up with Amy, his girlfriend of six months, and she hadn't taken it well.
"What do you mean 'it's not going to work out'? Are you breaking up with me?" Amy shrieked, her voice crescendoing in volume as she threw herself around Mark's neck, tears tracing deep tracks in her heavy makeup.
"I, I just don't think it's going to work out in the, the, long-term," stuttered Mark, gently disentangling her from him.
"But, I love you!" she wailed pouting her plump lips, much like another diva Mark knew.
"And I love you—but more like a friend," he quickly added. "I hope we can still be friends?"
"No! It's over! I'm leaving you!" Amy stormed away, tears still falling.
Mark sighed.
It was all her fault—that he couldn't commit to anyone, that he kept looking for the perfect someone, someone that may or may not exist.
Not Maureen's fault, as everyone who knew him tended to think—but Angel's.
It was Angel's fault that he couldn't be happy with what he had; a loving girlfriend, who was nearly perfect and almost completely infatuated with him.
That was the problem. No matter how hard they tried, their relationship would never be like the one Angel and Collins had had, all those years ago.
No matter how hard Mark looked, he would never find someone who he loved and who loved him as much as Angel had loved and been loved by Collins.
Mark would keep searching, finding someone, only to break up with them months later, having discovered that they weren't as perfect as he had once thought they were; weren't the Collins to his Angel after all.
Yes, it was her fault.
Well, yeah.