A/N: Well. winterschild11 demanded smut and I get this out instead, oops. I'll work on smut later darling lol. Sorry I've been flaky, I've been working nonstop all week and I'm dead ass exhausted. Plus I have petty people who are trying to fight me at my job... so I have been preoccupied. -.-
I feel just like I had when James and I broke up, which was a little over a year ago, but twenty times worse. I've been out of commission for a while, blatantly ignoring the real world that I've locked myself out of ever since the closet incident I shared with my ex. That jack ass. I don't understand how I still carry feelings for him, he's a complete inconsiderate dick. My best friend Lucy did always tell me that I was a hidden masochist but really, I never wanted pain from James. I never imagined he would cheat on me of all things to do when in a loving, or so I thought, relationship. The millionth tear slides down my crusted cheek but I don't wipe it away. I leave it to dry because my fingers are cramped up from constantly swiping tears off my face. I'm sure I'm blotchy and resemble someone who reacted from a bad peanut allergy or something. My nose is clogged up and my head is throbbing thickly. I haven't left the comfort of my bed for three days. Haven't showed up at school, I've ignored all text messages and phone calls from my friends. And well, I've basically reverted back a little over a year ago after James and I first split up. Why, because James graciously supplied me with the depressing knowledge that he never cared about me in the first place. Like I told him, the only reason I cheated on him was to make him feel the same torture I had felt. It wasn't supposed to be some damn competition on who we chose as our victim, I was trying to prove my, very stupid, point.
But no. God forbid I try and beat James at his own games. Gah, that's the problem though, I wasn't trying to! I angrily shove the empty tissue box off my lap and glare as it falls to my bedroom floor. I wanted him to know how it felt... I didn't want him to tell me 'I could've picked a better player'. My vision swelled up with liquid clouds before I blinked and the tears spilled over like a sloshing soda bottle that had just been shaken up. I cover my face with my hands and let out a low inhuman sound. To think I was over James Diamond... that damn bastard, as it turns out, still has complete hold of my emotions.
And I hated it. I hate him. I hate that I love him. I hate myself. God, I hate my pathetic good for nothing self.
...
When my isolation spills into day five, I finally respond to one of my text messages. It's from Lucy, who has broken the record and texted me two hundred and nine times. Logan was behind her at one hundred and ninety one. The rest of my friends trickle in line behind him in order. Camille, Carlos, Jo, and Dak. Even though I should've answered them all back, I only opened Lucy's latest message. She tells me in angry caps to get my sulking face out of my ass and answer her mother fucking messages or she'll slit my throat, yank my spleen out from the slit, and brandish it around like the american flag on a flag pole. Well, for starters. Fuck america and its flag. Next, Lucy can kiss my ass, and three, I text her back to come over and save me from sinking into further darkness. And to bring me ice cream.
Fifteen minutes later I hear the front door slam open, the roaring sound echoing all the way up to the second floor of my home and the rumbling ripples of the violent noise trickling underneath the slit of my door. Basically Lucy has arrived and will either save my ass, kill my ass, or kiss my ass like I told her. Maybe all three, at this point I don't fucking care. Her stomps deafen me as she makes her way up the stairs and down the hall before she kicks my door open without hesitation.
"Kendall fucking Knight!" she yells and swings a Target sack in the air. A spoon follows after the sack, which lands on my bed, but the spoon hits my head. "You fucking dumb ass little boy, you better eat every drop of Funkey Monkey or I'll shove the entire damn carton down your throat!"
Ahh, my ice cream. Lucy seems to teleport herself to my bed because one moment she's at the my door and the next she's hovering above me. Then, her arms are around me and my ice cream is forgotten as my tears, that had paused, finally come back into play and rapidly drench her shoulder. Lucy doesn't mind though. She only hugs me tighter, tucking my head into her sweet scented neck. "I'll kill him." she growls against my hair and I only sob.