deviANT
Chapter 3: Bad artists copy
Bad artists copy. Good artists steal.
-Pablo Picasso
"Fletcher! Are you ready?" Olive asked him. "Fletcher, do you feel okay? You look kinda sick. Do you want me to get you some orange juice?" She got up from the couch he was sitting and pranced to the kitchen. "I'll make it fresh, just for you." She added with a flirty wink.
"No, Olive, it's not that type of sickness. Come out of the kitchen, I have to tell you something." Fletcher said feebly. He had to confess, he couldn't keep using her like this, she deserved be-
"Yes, Fletcher?"
His eyes, widened. "Ch-Chyna? What are YOU doing here?"
She smiled at him. The one that said, 'What is wrong with you?' "I'm here to make you feel better. Just like a good girlfriend. So, you wanna drink the OJ? I just squeezed it~."
"B-but Olive just…" He shook his head. "I uh- sure. OJ would be great babe."
"Here you go." She handed him the glass.
"Thanks babe. So- I've got to tell you-"
"Ugh, Fletcher, I told you I hate being called 'babe.' It's degrading. Now tell me what you wanted to say while I was in the kitchen."
"O-Olive, how did you do that? No – never mind that, Olive! I have to tell you. I can't hold this back anymore! Olive, I'm seeing-"
"Olive~. No wait, Chyna~! I love the both of you, please don't leave me!" He scoffed. Looking at himself in the mirror. "Be a man. A man can handle this. I – I am a man!"
He watched as the blood and mirror mixed together on the ground. "I am a man."
(A/n: Sorry this is so short. The drama/angst/tragedy/romance/friendship plot is about to begin. You will be getting flashbacks every once in a while, so things will be clearer. Thanks, see you in two weeks.)