If You Were Mine, a misc. books fanfic

If you were mine

we'd be happy together.

We'd hold hands and laugh

and I'd fall asleep with a smile on my face.

If you were mine

I wouldn't just fall asleep with a smile on my face.

I'd fall asleep in your arms.

That's how it would be if you were mine.

If you were mine

we'd be so happy.

And if you were mine

you'd still be alive.

If you were mine

we would've traded numbers and talked for hours into the night, saying "I love you" repeatedly.

But not too long because my wi-fi would shut down eventually.

If you were mine

we'd call each other and ask how we were doing.

Even if we were 1000 miles away.

Or it felt like 1,000.

Sometimes it felt like 3,000 instead.

Or 10,000.

Sometimes it felt like

you were a whole world away from me

but that was okay because

you'd still leave a message with sweet words

so no matter how far you were

I'd still feel loved.

If you were mine

we would've spent all day on our phones texting

because you're in California

and I'm in Washington State

and we haven't met in real life before

but we would spend all day discussing how we'd meet.

What we would do together.

The unique shops in our towns that we would show each other to,

like the antiques shop and the

Buddhist shop with funny statues

and the shop with the mystical "magical" charms and decorations.

Since you lived in the big city

of LA

you wouldn't show me unique shops since

those are rare in a loud, flashy place like

but you'd take me to amazing restaurants

with savory foods and drinks

or pretty, flowery secluded parks

with waterfalls and trees

and we'd hold hands and talk

and walk

and never care about what anybody else thought.

We'd ignore our parents.

And if it rained, you would be selfish and not offer me your jacket

but

you would pull it up and hold it over both of us

so your arm would be right next to me

which is even better

than giving me your jacket

because then

I'd be

almost touching you for real.

And I'd move closer

and pretend I was extra sensitive about getting rained on

and our arms would touch

and you'd smile knowingly at me

because you knew I meant to do that

because you know me

just that well.

If you were mine

we'd be our own best friends

and tell each other secrets.

You'd show me your personal

serious

side to me.

And only me.

I'd tell you my honest problems

my depression problems

and point on my hand where I cut

on the knuckle of my index finger

on my left hand

because I was too chicken

to cut on my wrist

for the fear of slashing that one deadly vein.

You'd see it

and study the lines of my skin

and run your thumb over the barely see-able scar

and you'd only see it because you know

it was once there.

You'd touch it with your fingertips.

Your fingernails.

Then you'd kiss it

and tell me

it'll be alright.

Which would make me feel

so much better

and honestly make it

really be

alright.

If you were mine

we'd tell each other

everything.

Like our favourite colours

and books

and movies.

Only you'd argue and say

you don't read

that you like playing video games instead

and I'd say how unproductive that is

and you'd tease me about being

a nerd

and liking to read

and I'd shove you

even though you're so much bigger than me

so it was a vain attempt

and you'd laugh and pull me in for a sweet

sweet

kiss.

We'd memorize each other

and our personalities

and quirks

and remember things that weren't said with words

but things we'd notice on our own

as ourselves

about each other.

I'd notice how your eyes darkened and lightened

with your mood.

Dark

when angry or sad or serious.

Light

when happy and excited.

Your eyes would always be light around me

and I'd see the change

when I'd walk into the room.

And you'd notice how I always wore

black Chuck Taylor All-Star Converse

and how I only wore skin-tight jeans

and how I had a habit of

reaching up

and touching the tips of my long, dark hair

that you always thought was black until I showed you it was actually just dark dark brown like your eyes when you're angry,

when I was nervous.

We'd notice those things.

I'd memorize you.

If only you were mine.

If you were mine

you would be asking me

to go to a dance with you.

You'd be asking me

if I wanted to hang out this afternoon.

You would be asking me

if I wanted a mocha or latte at the cafe.

If you were mine

you wouldn't be asking that dumb girl

with the plastic, fake-dyed black hair

who looked like some chic

trying to be goth or emo

just for looks and attention.

You wouldn't be talking to her

or telling her you've liked her

for two years.

You wouldn't be

ignoring my calls and texts

just so you could respond to the

picture she sent to you

of her in her small bathroom

wearing nothing but a sports bra and short-shorts

and saying

"Rate, 1-10?"

You wouldn't be

responding with

"10, you're so hot"

if you were mine.

You wouldn't be

feeling your heart go faster

as she would start sending

even more graphic pictures of her sad self.

Am I the only one who thinks she looks dumb?

If you were mine

you wouldn't be telling this stupid hoe

that you liked her.

You wouldn't be

spilling your feelings to her

and admitting you liked her

for a long time.

You wouldn't be

blocking my texts

because I got annoying

for messaging you

while you were trying to talk to this girl.

If you were mine,

you wouldn't be playing games.

You wouldn't be

leading me on

because you thought

you had feelings for me

but you also

liked the fake emo chic girl.

You wouldn't be

stealing my heart

to only

throw it back at me

with a spiked glove.

You wouldn't be

telling me you love me

only to tell the girl

the same thing

ten minutes later.

You wouldn't be

telling me how much

you love the other girl

while we talked

because

we talk a lot

but suddenly the girl

came into our conversations

and when you should've been talking about the latest movie premiering

you were telling me about her instead.

Making me jealous.

You know I'm the jealous type.

But okay.

If you were mine though,

you'd realize that.

If you were mine

you wouldn't come

crying to me

and complaining

and screaming

because

she rejected you

and she thinks you're too shallow for her.

Which is not true.

You're beautiful.

You're the most

beautiful, handsome, honest, wonderful

guy

I've ever known

on this earth.

In this universe.

Which is very big

and a lot of guys to compete against.

But her words

"I don't like you"

made you not believe that

so you only

talked over me

and my attempts to tell you

you're beautiful

with degrading words like

"I'm horrible.

I must not be good enough.

Why doesn't she like me?

She led me on."

If only you knew

how much

I thought those same words

about you.

But I don't say that because

it's not my turn to hurt.

It's not my turn to cry.

It's yours.

So I let you

say these things

when they aren't true

when you're actually beautiful

and amazing

and handsome

only because I know

what it's like

to feel

burnt

out.

If you were mine

you'd still be here.

You'd still be texting me good morning messages

and still making fun of me

with light, perverted jokes

because as amazing as you are

you're still a guy who makes

immature lines.

Either way

if you were mine

you'd be

talking to me still.

Not falling into depression

and blocking me out

because you're convinced

if this stupid girl with the fake-dyed black hair

thinks you're shallow and worthless

then the whole WORLD must think that too.

It's not true

but

I let you bleed

and give you space

because that's how I felt

when I told you I liked you.

You gently said

you only

thought of me

as a friend

so I said okay.

And let it slide.

And we continued like nothing happened.

If you were mine

there wouldn't be

a zig-zag scar-line

on your left wrist

because you were so depressed that you started cutting

using the razor blade on your Swiss army knife

and because

your right hand was shaky

so the cut ended up not being a smooth line of relief.

It ended up being a bitter, confused reminder of

how screwed up love is

and how twisted people are

and how they sometimes lie.

If you were mine, there would be no

scar on your wrist

or any dead flakes of skin hanging on the scratch line

or any blood staining your bathroom sink.

If you were mine, I would've made you feel better.

But you didn't even tell me you cut

until after the damage

was already done.

For some reason

you can't let go of this stupid bitch

with the plastic black hair.

She meant the world to you

so when she crushed you

she crushed everything that existed.

So when you were crushed

you refused to talk to me.

You told me to fuck off,

that I don't understand.

Which is annoying because

I do.

But I let you be because

I know how crappy you felt

and decided to let you scream in pain

for a few days

before I'd come in with my bandages

and heal you.

That was my first mistake.

If you were mine

I wouldn't be

standing in the rain

in the Los Angelos Mainframe Graveyard

staring at the newest headstone

with your first and last name on it.

I wouldn't be

shivering and numb

and cold

and crying

and thinking

how much I hate that fake emo girl

for causing such damage

to my friend.

If you were mine

you wouldn't have

stopped talking to anyone.

You wouldn't have

ignored my texts.

You wouldn't have

stayed away from food for days.

You wouldn't have

gone outside

for the first time in 3 months

and grabbed a rope

and went to the tall maple trees in your backyard

tie a noose

and hang yourself

because

you thought you weren't good enough.

And that if this girl with her fake black dyed hair thought you were worthless

than you must really be

for real.

I wonder if you ever

thought about me

in that moment when you were going to

tighten the twine rope

around your neck

and jump off the tree-stump

you were standing on.

You probably didn't

and I know you didn't

because I know you that well.

So I bet

when you let the rope go

and let your feet lift off the tree-stump

that you didn't think

even in the back of your mind

about me

the girl who told you she loved you everyday.

The girl

who wouldn't hear about your death until she tried texting you

and your parents responded back saying

"He's dead."

So you hung yourself

from a branch oh so high

and your parents found you the next day.

Lifeless.

Dead.

Pale.

And they whispered,

"how did this happen?

He was such an amazing boy."

But even your spirit

wouldn't have believed them

because you were just so convinced

that you weren't

amazing.

If you were mine,

you would still be alive.

You would still be smiling

and happy

and listening to music.

You would still be

flirting with me

and talking to me

and I'd fall for you a little more everyday.

And I'd feel like you fell for me too

which would make me

even more excited

for the next day

just to

see you

again.

If you were mine

I wouldn't be up at

11:00 at night

4 months after your suicide

popping sleeping aid pills in my mouth

because I'm too chicken to find actually sleeping pills

and because I can't sleep

because the songs you showed me that were

by your favourite artists

are stuck in my head

and playing endlessly

and I get distracted

and I can't sleep.

So I go for Melatonin.

One 5 mg pill

Another 3 mg pill.

I don't know

what mg they are for

but all I know is

the more the mg

the more the sleep.

So I take one of each

which equals 8 mg

because I won't settle for just 6 mg

nor will I dare take 10.

I get a headache

from all of them

or maybe it's just

mind over mater,

the placebo effect

but I get an aching headache

and I drink the sleeping aid pills with water.

8 mg of chalky white powder

and try going to sleep again.

If you were mine

you'd still be warm

and alive

and happy

and laughing.

And not tripping over that stupid hoe.

And not crying about how worthless you must be.

If you were mine

you would feel loved because

I'd tell you how gorgeous you are

everyday.

If you were mine

you'd forget about Lily, with her gothic dyed hair

and her "I'm-so-swaggy" attitude

and you'd focus on me

and love me

and tell me you love me

everyday

and I'd fall asleep dreaming about you.

If you were mine,

I wouldn't be

paying this drug dealer for real sleeping pills.

I wouldn't be

slashing my wrist

with a razor blade I got out of my pencil sharpener

and used a nail file to unscrew it out of the plastic case.

I wouldn't be

popping 19 real sleeping pills into my mouth

because 19 was the day of your birthday

in April

and slashing my wrist so deep that

I could feel the metal stab into that one deadly vein.

If you were mine

I wouldn't be

laying on the floor of

my lonely secluded bedroom

with your last message in my texts open on my phone saying

"I love you, I'm so sorry. But just remember, you are beautiful."

The words you told me with such ease, but the same words you couldn't accept without difficulty.

If you were mine

I wouldn't be

having my last breaths

while I think about that time I visited your grave

and I wouldn't be

cursing Lily's name

and I wouldn't be

crying salty tears that only come from pain from unrequited, true love.

If you were mine,

we'd both be alive

and happy together.

But that's only if you were mine.

And in the end it wasn't the razor blade that killed me.

It wasn't the sleeping pills that killed me either.

I died of a broken heart.

And this never would've happened.

None of it.

Only

if you were mine.