”…IT’S HARD FOR ME TO SEE EXACTLY WHERE THE HELL I WENT WRONG”
chris sturniolo angst: hurt/no comfort, not chris accurate (chris is a bitch), swearing
wc… 1.2k
prompt… scott pilgrim vs my gpa by mom jeans.
(masterlist) (nav)
it felt as though you were slowly slipping from chris’ once so tight grasp. he stopped calling so much, stopped texting you to come over, he was always ‘busy’, it felt like you were doing all the work.
so as you stepped into the familiar house with the white walls and wood floors, something felt off. “oh, hey matt. is chris here?” you ask matt, who was making something in the kitchen. you were good friends with chris’ family and his friends.
“hey— yeah chris is in his room” he kept his head down, he didn’t dare look at you. “uhh, okay” you muttered, padding across the floor to chris’ room. you knocked on the white door, hoping for a response.
“chris?” you called, reaching for the handle. the brunette beats you to the door, opening the door to reveal his almost disheveled look. “what’s— are you okay?” his hood covered his slightly puffy eyes, his nose was a faint shade of pink, he hadn’t shaved in a few days.
“yeah, just, come in.” he widened the door, you walked in and sat atop his bed. he didn’t sit down, just stood by his door awkwardly.
“why’d you call me over here?” you ask, since it was the first time in almost a month that chris had asked to hangout.
“we need to talk” the sentence you were dreading. the words were quiet, hushed even, like he was embarrassed to be here. “oh, okay, what’s up?” you replied, not wanting to assume the worst.
“lately, i’ve uhm… been a bit of a mess. you’re an amazing woman, you really deserve the world. and i don’t think,” he motioned between you two with one hand, “this is gonna work out.” it hurt chris to even say, he did love you at one point but for some reason he just couldn’t keep the love.
“no, chris what do you mean?” “i—i’m breaking up with you.” he took a deep breath to process the words.
“please, chris, we can work this out. i promise. we’ve always been there for each other, yeah? i mean, if this is something with me i can change, but i—“
“stop!” he spoke over you, your words coming to a halt. “fuck, don’t you get it? i don’t love you anymore!”
“then pretend.” you’re standing now, glaring at chris through glossy eyes. “what?”
“pretend you love me.”
“i can’t do that to you, it’s not right. please, just— make this easier on me. tell you don’t love me back, tell me you’ve been waiting for this, tell me you can’t do this anymore, tell me you just want to be friends, fuck, tell me you hate me!”
those examples were hateful yet all chris craved. he didn’t want to be the bad guy, he just wanted to let you down slowly.
“fine.” you spoke softly, a sigh of relief left chris’ mouth. “but one thing,” you said, taking a baby step towards chris. “why don’t you love me? what the fuck did i do?” this time, chris couldn’t cut you off because he didn’t know what to say.
“i— i don’t know. it’s just, i don’t love you, and i can’t lead you on.” he admitted, staring at the ground. “we can still be friends?” your eyes snapped up to his.
“you just don’t fucking get it, do you? you never have.” your head shook, tears in your eyes threatened to spill. you took one last final look around the room until who knows how long, eyes scanning chris’ shelves and trinkets that sat upon them.
but what you locked your eyes on shattered whatever was left in the love for chris. a google search on chris’ computer.
‘how to break up with a girl you don’t like.’
it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but still hurt something in you. “whatever.” you whispered just loud enough for chris to hear, pushing past him to leave the room.
“oh hey girl, i didn’t know you were here.” nick looks at you in your teary eyes, you stop in front of him for a second. “i’m leaving now.” you say, flat out, walking past him to leave the house.
no goodbye, no nothing. it was mean, but if you stayed a second longer you would break down in tears to your ex boyfriend’s triplet brother.
you don’t hold your tough facade long, the second your car door shuts you break down in tears. through glossy eyes you attempt to back out through the driveway, wanting to get away from the now haunted house as quick as possible.
you backed out, careful not to hit matt’s car as you drove away. your phone automatically connected to the car via bluetooth, and the last song you listened to started playing over the speaker.
scott pilgrim vs. my gpa — mom jeans.
you let it play, even turning up the music to listen to the words spill over the slow beat.
a week passes— which consists of sleeping, watching a new show, sleeping more. you texted your friend about it and she brought you a care basket, it was about half done by now.
you’re now laying on your couch, kitchen light flickering behind you — you would change it, but chris usually always offered to — watching a show with a bag of popcorn sitting open on the floor.
you haven’t made any effort the past week, your messy hair tied in a bun as you flicked through netflix. you’d watched a bunch of shows the past week, a few good movies, and honestly there wasn’t much left to watch. nonetheless, you’re trying to find some holiday movie to cheer you up.
ring! ring! ring!
your phone rang from the coffee table. you reach to grab it, not getting off the couch as you grab your device. your relaxed expression quickly perks up the second you see the caller id.
LOSER NOT WORTH MENTIONING!!!
your friend had changed chris’ caller id to make sure you knew, but you unblocked him when she left. you’re not sure what to do, but you have to make the split second decision.
“hello?”
“hey, it’s me”
“no shit.” it’s meaner than you intended, but you can’t seem to care. “look, i feel bad about what happened. you just walked out, i didn’t know what to do.”
“what did i do wrong? why couldn’t you love me? did you ever love me?” questions pour from your lips as you sit up a bit more now.
a sigh comes from chris’ end of the line, “i— it’s confusing.” he stutters. “it’s really not. did you or did you not love me.”
“i did.”
“then why’d you stop? i mean, it’s hard for me to see exactly where the hell i went wrong.”
“look— it’s just, i, i know you’re a great woman, but i don’t think you’re meant for me.” he tried to let the words come out softly. “your stuff is still here. nick misses you, baby—“
“don’t call me that.”
“i— please, come back. nick said he wanted to talk to you and you should get your stuff.”
“then nick can tell me that.” you moved the phone away from your ear to hang up, but chris protested loud enough to not hang up. “wait— don’t hang up, please. i wanna make it better, i was mean to you.”
“you don’t care about me, chris. you’re just focused on making yourself the good guy.”
“well, that’s half true. i mean, i spoke to matt and nick and they told me to call you—“
“fuck you chris.” is all you say before you hang up, for real this time.
you could gather your stuff later — better yet, have nick collect them so the process was one and done — but you didn’t want to think about that.
usually after something bad happened you would just hope it was for a good reason, but you were done.
you’ve given up on luck.
tessa’s notes… been on my angst shit lately
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