notes: back to this insanity a week later well yes!!!! i have always wanted to do a seven pov for a fic and i feel like this one is perfect to do it for <3 there's just so many things going on in here that i felt like would benefit from having his voice in the mix too and i would like to think that i was able to capture that well 😭 seven and mc really do think so much of the same things about one another they drive me insane! if that wasn't already so clear.... also missing out on some of the information he shares in his pov would be horrible to not let y'all know about! yes this is 2k longer than the original and idk how else to explain that except by saying that he is insane and he possessed me and he's evil!!!!! LMFAO but i hope you enjoy! <3 as much as you can because like i said. he's evil
[read on ao3] [arabella's pov]
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
seven doesn't know why he's here.
that's the thought that's been turning around in his head ever since he got here, grabbing his drink off the bar top, taking a hesitant sip. his face twists in disgust. he doesn't know why he took the bartender's suggestion of ordering a club soda. it's gross. he should've ordered alcohol like any normal person at a bar would, but he doesn't feel normal. he hasn't felt that way in a long time.
he hasn't had a drop of alcohol and he's spiraling anyway. great.
he turns his attention to the patrons of the bar all around him. he spots some people he recognizes, but he makes sure to avert his gaze by the time they look his way. he doesn't feel like being sociable with anyone. ironic, considering where he's at currently.
he just needed to escape his apartment for the night. escape the thoughts that creep into his brain when he's alone with himself for too long. he'd thought it'd be good to get out and at least try to be around people who weren't his mom or the members of soft violence.
the idea came from the part of his brain that was rarely optimistic these days. he shouldn't have listened to it.
that much is evident when the lights start to dim in front of the makeshift stage and a girl with a guitar comes out to scattered applause. she looks so familiar. he's trying to think of where he might know her from when it hits him like a ton of bricks.
that's sarah.
arabella's friend sarah.
her name passing through his brain is enough to derail him completely, but a gut-wrenching thought comes to him that blows that one completely out of the water.
is she here?
no, she wouldn't be. she's been silent on all her social media accounts for a while, and the last time he saw her photographed was when she popped up in a photo dump rowan posted a couple months ago.
he hates that he knows that information, the fact that he even has a burner account in the first place, its sole purpose being to keep tabs on her. he knows it's not healthy, and it's fucking pathetic, but he can't help it. all he's ever known how to be is obsessive over her.
he downs the rest of his disgusting drink before he stands up, making his way to the entrance of the bar to leave. whether she's here or not, he still can't risk it. he doesn't know what he'd do if he saw her again, but he knows he doesn't want to find out.
he's almost to the door when he hears the chords of an all too familiar song. he whips his head around to look at sarah on stage, eyes widening. she can't actually be-
she starts to sing, and despite every bone in his body telling him to run, to get the fuck out of here, he can't get his feet to move.
so he stands there, like a deer in headlights, as sarah performs all i wanted.
-------------
he can't believe sarah played that song. arabella's song.
it wasn't enough that he thinks about her everyday, or that he dreams about her every night when he finally manages to fall asleep. arabella still has to somehow decorate his life like outdated furnishings, always there as a reminder of the time that's passed.
he should've left the minute he saw it was her friend performing. it should've told him he was in unfriendly territory and that he should've high tailed out of there, but he didn't, for reasons unknown to him, and now he's desperately trying to leave before anyone can see him and dare to ask him about said song.
he's not stupid. he knows if he sees any one of their mutual friends that'll be the first thing out of their mouths. and he can't do it. he can't take another round of 'damn, she fucking hates you' or 'don't you think it's crazy she wrote that about you?'
maybe it's for the best she hates him. he thinks it'd be worse if she didn't feel anything toward him at all.
besides, he's in a new band now and he's doing good. great, even. he has friends now that would never question his skill or what he brings to the table. they encourage his input, his songwriting, and they treat him the way friends are supposed to treat friends.
so why is he still so fucking worried about what his ex-girlfriend thinks of him? why can he never seem to let this go? he moved on from the rest of dead apple just fine.
he knows, deep down, why he can't move on from arabella, and the tattoo on his wrist burns as a reminder. he rubs it out of habit as he walks through the back hallway of the bar, trying to bury the impulse to look at it with every step he takes.
he keeps his head down as he moves with the crowd of people leaving through the back hallway of the bar, eager to put this whole stupid night behind him.
maybe he can get some takeout on the way home, so that this trip wasn't all for nothing. he should probably check-
shit. his wallet isn't in its usual pocket, his hands doing a quick search of his jeans and coming up empty. as if this night couldn't get any worse, now his wallet is gone.
he's never going to another bar ever again.
he stops in the hallway, turning back in the direction he came from, trying to think of when he last had it-
"hey," that voice stops him in his tracks completely. no. this can't be happening. no no no- "you dropped-"
he sees arabella a split second before she sees him, and that would be a torture in and of itself, if it weren't for the face she makes when she sees its him. her eyes widen, and a frown overtakes her features. why is she looking at him like that? it makes him furrow his brows.
shit, the wallet has-
he snatches it from her, putting it back in its rightful place in his pocket.
did she look inside of it before he saw her with it? no. surely not. she would've said something. she would have. she'd probably laugh in his face. what's worse? her knowing what's in there and making fun of him or knowing and not saying anything-
he's broken out of his spiraling by the sound of arabella clearing her throat, a slight flush to her cheeks. what the fuck was she thinking about just now? it's eating at him. he wants to ask, but he knows he can't. he shouldn't. "didn't expect to see you here," she finally says, voice weak.
"me either," he replies. during his spiral, he didn't get a chance to look at her properly, having zoned out.
he knows he shouldn't, but he allows himself this one thing by letting his eyes roam over her face. he wishes she looked like shit, but that was never something arabella was capable of. she's grown her hair out a little, jet black tresses sat halfway down her chest, and she still has her septum piercing, the silver of the hoop glinting in the light. her freckles that he used to love still dot her tan cheeks.
he looks down at her arms, disappointed to see they're covered up by her jacket. he wants to know if the tattoo is still there. it takes every bit of his self-restraint not to ask.
"yeah, well," arabella jerks a thumb behind her, and they both look over her shoulder to see nothing there. arabella chuckles. "well, sarah was there a minute ago. i only came to see her perform-"
fucking sarah. he's instantly reminded of her singing all i wanted and he's pissed all over again. did arabella tell her to do that? he wouldn't put it past her. "did you tell her to sing that song?"
"no," she bites, narrowing her eyes a him. "why the fuck would i tell her to do that?"
is she serious? he can tell the angry look on his face makes her squirm. good. "don't do that. you knew i was here-"
she laughs at him, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. "i didn't. believe it or not, i don't keep track of your whereabouts anymore."
please. if he has a burner account, she definitely does too. whatever. he has to leave. he can't do this, already starting to feel the effects of being in her presence for too long. "okay, whatever. i don't care."
he's walking away for all of two seconds before she's calling out to him.
"it seems like you do," she says, taunting him. great. he's been here long enough for arabella to start trying to push his buttons. of course she still knows how to do it. "i don't know why you're upset. it's a good song."
he knows all she's trying to do is rile him up, but it's working. she knows exactly why he'd be angry that he had to hear a song about him unprompted.
"i'm sure you feel that way," he snipes at her, hoping his voice is able to portray just how angry he is. the nerve of her to even say that to him. she has to know, not just for all i wanted, but how every song on that album affected him. it was his worst fucking nightmare.
your ex-girlfriend writes a whole album about how she hates you. about how the band you created together is better off without you. and every song drives that point home over and over again to where he knows if he thinks about it long enough, every scathing lyric about him will bounce around in his head until he wants to scream.
maybe that was the point. she couldn't possibly know that he still hasn't gotten over her, despite his best efforts. this album was made to ensure it wouldn't happen anytime soon. and she succeeded.
"i mean, better her singing it than me, right?" arabella asks him. he doesn't think so. although, the thought of seeing arabella perform any of those songs has his stomach in knots. it'd make him feel even worse than he already does.
that's another thing that's been bothering him. he hasn't seen dead apple doing any gigs since before the album came out. he knows he shouldn't care, but it's been eating at him. despite not wanting to see it, he's still been waiting for it to happen. he doesn't have time to pour over the possibilities before he watches arabella frown, a look of pain crossing her features before saying, "it's not like it's getting performed live otherwise."
he knows that look. it's the look she wore the last time they saw each other, when she came to his apartment to trade off the stuff they had of each other's. she had looked absolutely miserable, and he knows he didn't look that much better. but this look was… different. she had looked at him as if she wanted him to feel bad for her.
a realization dawns on him then. there haven't been any gigs because the songs are difficult for her to perform.
he wants to laugh. the songs are hard for her? she should try being the inspiration behind them.
“you've turned our relationship into a fucking spectacle and you expect me to feel sorry for you?” he challenges, his face growing hot. it's not even just the songs. it's her behavior after they came out. the subtweets about him. the liking of posts talking shit about him. doing nothing to stop her fans from attacking him, the other members of soft violence, and his own fans.
she's seemingly stopped doing all of that now, for whatever reason. maybe she just stopped caring. and the thought of that should make him feel better, but it doesn't. not when he still cares, so deeply and so stupidly.
“right, how could i forget! you can't feel sorry for anyone unless it's yourself.” those words out of her mouth feel like a punch to his gut. does she really feel that way? of course she does. she doesn't know him anymore.
he knows he's about to sound like a broken record, but he doesn't care. she needs to be reminded of the fucked up situation her and the band put him in, since she seems to have forgotten. “you let them kick me out of the band-”
a groan leaves her lips before she interrupts, “you didn't get kicked out! you left!”
“i didn't have a choice!” he didn't. he had no choices. the situation he was put in was impossible. the only thing he could do was run for the hills as fast as he could. why can she not understand that? this feels like that stupid night at the party all over again. trying to make her see reason and failing miserably.
she has the audacity to roll her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “you had plenty of choices, don't act like-”
“would you have stayed? if they did that to you? if your partner didn't even stick up for you when it happened?” he already knows the answer. she wouldn't have taken that shit. she would have told all of them to fuck off if it was her being demoted to backup singer. and he would've never let her think for a second that he was okay with that happening. he would've never done that to her. but unfortunately, it didn't happen that way, and when the time came, she didn't even fucking fight for him.
she laughs, apparently finding that line of questioning ridiculous. she shakes her head before saying, “that's bullshit and you know it. i voted to keep you as lead-”
the bare minimum. does she want a fucking medal? he cuts her off, exhaling, “like that fucking mattered.”
she gives him an exasperated look, slapping her hands down on her thighs in frustration. “what did you want me to do, seven? quit the band?”
“yes!" he blurts, his voice coming out louder than intended. they didn't need the band. they had each other. wasn't that enough? he foolishly thought it was. "and you wouldn't. because you got what you always wanted.”
she rolls her eyes at him again, looking completely done with this conversation. "what are you fucking talking about?”
it's the thoughts he doesn't dare think about for too long, because he knows he doesn't actually believe them. but there's no coming back from this conversation anyway. and right now, all he wants to do is hurt her even a fraction of how much she's hurt him. and so he does, using his fingers to list off reasons that feel like bile coming up in his throat.
“you want the fame, the attention, the recognition that comes from being a lead singer, the only singer. i was just a fucking obstacle in your way," he watches the way her face falls at his words, and he presses on despite the pain in his chest at the sight, "and the fact that you won't even admit that-”
“there's nothing to admit!” she cuts him off, her hands flying up in between them, eyes starting to shine with unshed tears. “you’re saying this bullshit as if you don't know me.”
that's the worst part, he thinks. he does know her, and he knows how deeply it would hurt her to say the things people in their scene and industry say about her constantly. but she doesn't deserve any kindness from him anymore, despite the internal battle that wages in his mind. of course he doesn't believe in what he's saying, but it's for the best if she does. and if he tries to convince himself that he does too.
“i don't know you.” liar. it feels like that word is written across his forehead. he'll always know arabella, and he knows that deep down to the core of his being. it's always been that way, and he doesn't know anything else. that's the problem.
she's looking at him in annoyance. he hates even after a year apart, she can still see right through him. “can you stop with the dramatics? for fuck’s sake, sev.”
hearing her call him by his nickname makes him flinch. it makes him think about all his past memories with her when she would call him that, and that's the last thing he needs right now. “don't call me that.”
she scoffs, moving to start walking away from him. he hates how much he doesn't want that to happen. “what fucking ever. i'm over this. fuck you and goodbye.”
“you came up to me!” he argues, and he knows how immature he sounds right now, but he's past the point of caring.
“to give you your wallet back?" she's looking at him like he's a fucking idiot, and maybe he is. she scoffs again. "you're right, i should've just stole it."
"you've already stolen enough from me," he fumes. the band, the songs he wrote, all taken from him. all the time and love that he gave to her, wasted.
she lets out a sardonic laugh, making him recoil. "are you fucking serious? you can't be."
his face burns in embarrassment. is everything he says a fucking joke to her? he's so sick of it. "glad to know you still don't take anything seriously," he says, blowing out an irritated breath.
she gives him a dirty look. "i take plenty things seriously. my mental health, for one. so will you please leave me alone and go haunt a different hallway?"
and what about his mental health? did she ever consider that when she tossed him aside? when she wrote a whole album about him? he's not going to let her stand there and act like she was the only person wounded by this situation. he shakes his head at her. “don't try and make yourself the victim right now-”
she interjects, her eyes blazing with anger. “why? so you can say that in another song? fuck off.”
he wants to laugh. of course she hates siren song, the most honest song about her that he's ever written. it's not like she has any room to talk. she has ten siren songs of her own, all on one album. but he likes that he managed to get under her skin. “i think it's pretty fair considering what you said about me.”
she looks so frustrated with him. good. maybe now she understands how he feels. “any lyrics in particular you wanna talk about? since it bothered you so much? i mean, god fucking forbid i write about my life-”
where would he even start? the lyrics are beginning to flash in his mind like neon signs, each one more blinding than the last. but they all say the same thing. something that's truly the worst part about all this, even worse than him still knowing her: the way she talks about him. he cuts her off to say, “you write about me like i’m the worst thing that ever happened to you.”
it seems to shock her into silence. is she really surprised he feels that way? no other ex of hers has gotten the type of lyrics or the amount of songs that he did. why is it so different for him? he knows why, but he wants to hear her say it. that this has affected her just as much as it's affected him.
“well?” he presses, feeling like he's on the edge of a cliff, and whatever she says is going to push him over, making him crash into the rocks below.
“you just…” she trails off, staring at him with the same intensity that she used to when she was trying to get him to understand her. “you really hurt me.”
no shit, he thinks. “you hurt me too-”
“i know,” she cuts him off, before closing her eyes for a brief moment. “i know. but you…” her voice cracks, and her eyes open again with tears brimming them.
he's suddenly hit with a wave of the emotions he used to feel whenever she would cry in the past. it was rare, but when it did happen it always made him feel hopeless. like he couldn't do enough to help her. knowing he's the reason behind these tears right now makes his own come to the surface, threatening to bubble over just like hers are now.
“you weren't there after everything happened,” she says, sounding like the words are stuck in her throat as she tries to say them. she looks down at her shoes. he hates that she won't even look at him, when she's being the most honest with him she's been the whole night.
“i didn't know what to do, and i couldn't talk to the band because i hated them for what they did to us, and i couldn't talk to you because you were gone and i-” she lets out a sob, her shoulders shaking and it takes everything for seven to not reach out to her and comfort her. to pull her in an embrace and apologize for everything. anything to get her to stop crying. anything to get him to stop crying too.
he feels so pathetic. all it took was arabella crying and he's right back to where he was before they broke up. still in love with her. still eager to be close to her. still wanting to be attached at the hip. his work in the past year to move on and get over her is gone in the face of her words and her tears, but it's not like it was working anyway.
“all i could do was write about it. writing about it was one of the only things that helped me get through it,” she lets out a ragged breath before continuing, “that and trying to drink myself to death.”
his heart clenches at that. right after they broke up, he swore off any alcohol, the drinks in his system that night at the party being one of the primary reasons their fight got so bad. so many things he said that he definitely didn't mean. just like tonight.
"and it just," she hesitates over her words, like she doesn't know if she should even be saying them at all, "it just seems like it was all for nothing. i was so upset and angry and it didn't change anything. i still lost you." she laughs, but it sounds so hollow. tears are still falling as she continues, "and it kills me because all i ever fucking wanted was-"
"don't." he can't let her finish that sentence. if she does, the last piece of him that's keeping him from folding and going back to how he used to be will shatter to the floor. he can't let that happen, even though he wants to. so badly.
she dares to glance up at him, and he feels his face heat in embarrassment. he knows they're sharing the same look, eyes full of tears, faces showing nothing but the pain they've caused each other, not just from this night, but from this whole year. the countless fights, the ghosting, blocking each other, writing songs about each other. the love that was lost and the hate that replaced it.
but he knows he doesn't hate her. he never could, as much as he tries. how could he ever do that?
"don't say it. please," he pleads, hoping she'll grant him this small act of mercy. he feels so incredibly vulnerable right now, like she's seeing all of him, just like she used to.
she coughs, wiping her eyes as she does it. “okay, yeah.” she lets out a dark laugh, as if she thinks the last five minutes were just a lapse in judgment for her. he starts to see the arabella from the past morph into the arabella he knows now before she says, “jesus, this is so fucking embarrassing-”
“it's not,” he interjects. it was always so hard for arabella to open up to him, and when she finally did, it felt like he unlocked something. a part of her that nobody else ever got to see. behind all the arrogance and the humor she uses to deflect, there was a girl who desperately just wanted someone to understand her. and seven did. earlier tonight he knows he didn't fully believe that, but he does right now. it seems so obvious to him in this moment. he'll never see arabella and not understand her fully and completely.
he's still in love with her. and as much as he's tried and fought against that truth, it's no use. she's rendered him defenseless. every single wall he tried to build to keep her out has fallen, and despite every part of him screaming at him to stop, he can't stop the words that leave his mouth.
“arabella, i-” i'm sorry. i'm sorry for ever leaving. i didn't mean any of the stupid shit i said. i love you. i never stopped. there's simply too many things he wants to say.
unfortunately, he isn't able to complete his sentence as he's immediately met with the feel of someone's hand on his shoulder, but it's not arabella. he rips his attention away from her to look at who the hand belongs to.
it's chase, one of his friends who is clearly very drunk and unaware of what he just interrupted.
“hey, man! how's it going?” he stumbles through his words, and seven wants to shove him away and tell him to fuck off.
chase finishes his drink before he finally seems to notice arabella standing in front of them, his eyes widening as he takes her in. "oh shit. was this a bad time?"
"dude, go the fuck away," seven snaps at him, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“i…” arabella stammers, startling him. she looks trapped. like she's about to- “i should go,” she mutters as she turns and walks away, and he wants nothing more than to stop her. maybe-
“bella, wait-” using her nickname feels strange in his mouth, but it also feels like the most normal thing he's done all night. he just wants her to stay. he knows he shouldn't, but he does.
he doesn't miss the way her entire body freezes before she opens the door and walks out of the bar. out of this conversation, out of his life. again.
for some reason, chase is still standing next to him. he doesn't even notice, his eyes still trained on the door arabella used to leave, until he speaks.
"bro, what the fuck?" chase blurts, and seven turns to glare at him.
"fuck off," seven snaps and starts to walk away from him, but in the opposite direction arabella left. he can't risk seeing her again, as much as he might want to.
he makes his way through the bar, feeling like he's floating as he gets to the front door. he doesn't come out of his daze until the cold air from outside hits his skin, and he makes his way to his car, climbing into the driver's seat and shutting the door.
he doesn't turn the car on right away as he suddenly feels like his wallet is trying to burn a hole in his pocket. he knows he shouldn't, but he pulls it out and opens it.
the picture that greets him immediately causes a sob to escape past his lips.
it's arabella's senior yearbook photo. she's wearing the basic black drape the school gave all the girls in their class to wear in the photo, with her mom's pearl necklace around her neck. the only makeup she's wearing is mascara, and the freckles that fan across her cheeks are on proud display. her hair is straight and long, framing her face, and she's wearing the prettiest smile, her eyes so excited, as if someone behind the camera had just told her dead apple got signed to a major record label.
this picture is the version of arabella he fell in love with. he doesn't know why he ever tried to fight it back then. there was no point.
he holds the picture close to his face now, sniffling as he examines the speck of silver right underneath her nose. his favorite part about the picture. arabella had just got her septum piercing, freshly eighteen and free to do anything to her body now that she didn't need her parents permission. but the piercing was still a secret, knowing her parents would lose their minds if she got it before what her mom had called "the most important picture of her life." he can still see the roll of arabella's eyes as she told him. so, she had to flip the piercing up for the photo, and it did fool her parents, but seven knew. and he remembers the conversation so vividly it's like he's still there.
arabella's fiddling with the piercing, using her compact mirror to inspect how it looks. she turns her head from side to side, trying to see if it's noticeable from any angle.
seven, as usual, is watching her. it's become his favorite pastime as of late, with everything she does or says being so fascinating to him.
he grimaces at the thought. he thought this stupid crush on her would have went away by now, but as he watches her, he's beginning to realize that this feeling is taking root and staying there. for how long, he doesn't know. a delusional part of him wants it to stay forever. the rational part of him is telling him to shut up.
arabella snapping her compact shut breaks seven out his thoughts, offering her a smile as she glances over at him, hoping she didn't notice him staring at her.
she gives him a teasing smile. "you're staring again, sev."
heat rushes to his cheeks. of course she noticed. she notices everything he does, even when he doesn't want her to.
he rubs his hand on the back of his neck, feeling awkward. "sorry," he mutters, face growing hot. "i zoned out." liar.
she doesn't fully believe him, her eyes giving him a once over. her gaze always feels so intense, and these weird feelings he has for her has dialed that up to a million.
she looks away to move further up in the line that's moved since they first started talking. he almost sighs in relief.
she turns to look at him again, a frown on her face. he wants to kiss it away. whoa. where the fuck did that come from? he doesn't have any time to unpack that before arabella says, "is it noticeable?"
he knows she's talking about her piercing. he hates that her parents even care about something as stupid as that. and it's her senior picture anyway. who cares?
but he knows she just doesn't want an argument with them. if they somehow found out about it they would lose their shit and that's the last thing arabella wants.
"it's not," he reassures her as they move up in the line again.
"okay," she says timidly, like she's trying to her best to believe him.
"bella, it's gonna be fine," he tries to convince her, hating that her parents have the power to make her this nervous. it's not an emotion she wears often, so when it does rear its head in times like these he wants nothing more than for it to go away.
"i know," she sighs. "it's just a lot of pressure. this picture has to be perfect."
"it will be," he smiles at her. because it's you, and you've never taken a bad photo in your life. but he doesn't voice that.
she smiles back at him and his heart feels like it's gonna explode if she does it for too long. suddenly though, they both realize that she's up next in line and she quickly opens her mirror back up to check herself one more time.
"okay," she lets out a breath, trying to dispel her nerves, running a hand through her hair. "how do i look?"
gorgeous, he wants to blurt out. it takes every ounce of his self control not to. the shitty lighting of their school auditorium would make anyone else look horrible, but not arabella. she's somehow glowing, her bright eyes settling on him, looking at him expectantly.
"you look fine," he says instead, rolling his eyes good naturedly.
she huffs in fake annoyance, smiling at him. "gee, thanks. tell me how you really feel, sev."
he wants to laugh. if i told you how i really felt, you'd hate me. i'd ruin this friendship. i can't jeopardize that. i can't risk losing you forever.
"you don't need me feeding your ego," he teases, hoping that the playful tone in his voice hides the thoughts in his head.
she laughs. he wants to bottle up the sound.
luckily, the photographer calls her name before any of his embarrassing thoughts about her slip through his mouth.
the memory fades away and all that's left are the silent sobs that wrack his body as he sits in his car, holding the picture in his hand so delicately as if it'll float away. he takes everything in him to place the photo back in his wallet and close it.
he knows he should've thrown it away, he knows it shouldn't be in his possession anymore in the first place, but it's always been there. as soon as he got it he put it in his wallet and it stayed there. even after the vote and the breakup, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it, making him feel so fucking pathetic as he wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
how can he ever expect to get over her when he always has the knowledge of that? that despite everything, he can't get rid of one fucking photo. he got rid of everything else.
the night seems to finally catch up to him as his shoulders slump in exhaustion. being in arabella's orbit used to overwhelm him in all right ways, but now, as he tries to stop himself from crying again, it just feels like the worst kind of overstimulation.
seeing her cry shouldn't have made him so close to forgetting about all the horrible things that have transpired between them. he knows that's why she did it, to just make him feel bad for her. she's always had a flair for the dramatic, like when she used to run away during dumb arguments with him and he'd follow her-
is she doing that right now? if he went to the back exit of the bar, would he see her right outside the door? waiting for him to come and find her, like how he used to?
no, he thinks. that's fucking ridiculous. there's no way she remembers ever even doing that, and she'd probably laugh at him if she knew that he did.
whatever stupid fantasy he knows his brain is trying to come up with, it has to stop. he has to get over this, once and for all. he needs to get rid of that picture. he needs to stop listening to that stupid album that's about him. he needs a complete and total break. he needs to hate her. it's much easier to do that than whatever the fuck happened to him tonight.
even as he thinks it though, it feels wrong. he can't hate her, but he knows he has to try. the alternative is much worse.
thinking about how griffin and dom's ship name is the inferior domreign when it could be the ever so superior tongue-in-cheek f i n d o m.. is this anything
i am sooo pro-cheating in fiction omg wdym you want them to ethically break things up with their significant other before getting together that actively makes it less hot 🙄 like literally whats the point then 🙄 bring back UNETHICAL NON-MONOGAMY!!!!
