Out of love (Part 1)
Guzmán x Reader
Not my gif
Let me know if you’d want to see Part 2
Summary - Guzmán has faced a lot over the past year, and you’d always been by his side through it all. It was a given. But there’s only so far that will stretch when he doesn’t reciprocate. How far will you go before you drain yourself of energy and give up on the one boy you’ve ever truly loved?
- - - - - -
Falling in love with someone was a much easier process than falling out of love with them. Nobody spoke about that part of it enough. You’d see people cry, pick themselves up and just somehow manage to be okay. But there was never enough about the struggle to release that tug on your heart, to pull it back to your chest instead of yearning to be with theirs. That’s exactly how it would be with you and Guzmán.
- - - - - -
“Do you have the homework from Chemistry?” You ask Guzmán as you wait beside his locker, watching him take out the book he’d need for first period.
“Yeah, here,” He sifts through the rest of his locker and hands a sheet to you absently, “How come you didn’t do it?”
“I-“ You pause, “Just couldn’t really focus.”
He eyes you suspiciously but shrugs anyway, “I think everyone’s feeling a bit like that at the minute.”
You nod but part of you had hoped for a little sympathy from your boyfriend at that. He knew what you were going through at home, and watching your brother deal with chemo was one of the worst experiences of your life, second to losing your best friend when Marina died. Ander was a best friend to you too, you were the sort of siblings that never argued and made everyone else think you were crazy for doing so - but you always knew you had each other and that made any argument generally seem pretty futile. Especially now.
“Are you listening?” Guzmán snaps you from your daze, now standing in front of you as he talks.
“Sorry, just thinking about-“
“Guzmán, I need to talk to you,” It’s Samuel that interrupts, a look of fear on his face as he tries to give you a half-sympathetic smile.
Your boyfriend doesn’t even question it, he goes instantly. And you’re stood alone in the corridor, the concept of priorities dawning over you. You were never going to be his.
“Ready to go to class, (Y/n)?” Nadia suggests, coming up beside you, “How are you doing?”
You start walking with her, “I’m okay, it’s not easy but we just need to be there for Ander.”
“Of course, and if my brother starts being a nuisance - I apologise.”
Just like that, it all falls into normality and the comfort of having someone eradicates the upset of missing Guzmán. Although it doesn’t last long.
- - - - - -
In the afternoon, you make your way to the hospital to meet Ander and Omar for his next round of chemo. All you’d had was a short text from Guzmán saying he’d meet you there, nothing else all day.
“Omar, I’m sure you pick the worst music every single time it’s your turn,” You roll your eyes as he plays another song in the earphones that him and Ander shared, “I can tell by Ander’s face!”
Normally, you didn’t feel awkward when the two of them were together because you normally had Guzmán with you and the four of you just relaxed into your respective couples. Today, Guzmán was late.
“Okay, okay, what about this one?” Omar suggests, flicking onto the next song hopefully.
Ander eyes you, “You okay (Y/N)?”
You glance at your brother and see so much of how he has changed. His hair was still curly on his head but you knew that wouldn’t last. He looked paler and his eyes always more tired, he looked weaker and his smile didn’t seem to spread as far anymore.
You clear your throat, “Yeah, I’m just going to grab some drinks - does anybody want anything?”
They both say no and you make your exit quickly, trying to stop yourself from crying at the sight of your brother and his boyfriend. You never cried.
“Hey,” Guzmán stops when he sees you, “Still down there?”
“Yeah, normal place,” You gesture in the direction you had come from, “How come you’re late?”
“I just had some...” He pauses, “Stuff to sort out with Samu.”
It’s instinct when you nod like you understand, “Is it okay if you stay over tonight?”
“I always stay over.”
He says it bluntly but you hope he means well. And it’s true. Every night after you’d been to chemo with Ander, Guzmán slept round yours as a way of comforting you. It’s the one pocket of him you still felt like you held.
- - - - - -
It’s too late to be awake when you find yourself still staring at the ceiling above you. Your arm is tucked underneath your head and youre trying your best to think of anything other than... this.
Guzmán is sleeping soundly beside you, soft snores coming from his direction every few minutes. It should be a sound that would make you cuddle up next to him and do the same. But you didn’t want to disturb him.
With that boy laying next to you, you’d never felt lonelier. It might be selfish to say but you didn’t lie. You still had your brother and your family but there were complications there that were beyond what you could help. And Guzmán - had you become boring to him?
Before you can spiral any further, Guzmán groans beside you as his eyes flutter open slowly.
“You’re still awake?” He frowns, “What time is it?”
His voice is groggy and you can tell he doesn’t want to open his eyes too far at fear of losing the comfort of his slumber.
“I don’t know,” You reply quietly, glancing up at the darkness that spilled through the skylight window above you, “Late.”
“It’s cold,” He mumbles, reaching out an arm and tugging you toward him.
Just like that, he’s holding you like you’re still a normal couple and you wish you could’ve just asked him and felt like he’d have laughed and pulled you to his chest without question. But part of you thought that would be a helpless way of covering these wounds. So, you inevitably force yourself to sleep just as he had. It doesn’t take long for his arms to loosen their grip around you.
- - - - - -
When you wake the next morning, it’s after a very disturbed and broken sleep. Ander is sat at the table in the kitchen and you join him with a cup of coffee in hand.
“Sleep well?” He glances up, “I don’t think I need an answer.”
You hit at his arm and roll your eyes, “Well, thanks.”
He chuckles a little and winces at the hot liquid of his drink.
“Ander, can I ask you something?” You ask him cautiously but you know you don’t need a response to continue, “Have you noticed anything different between me and Guzmán recently?”
He frowns, “I don’t know, I guess you’ve both been dealing with a lot. But I don’t know, why?”
You take in a deep breath, “I don’t think he loves me anymore.”
Ander scoffs and shakes his head, “You’re serious?”
“I don’t know,” You respond, “It’s like I’m never really sure what to say to him anymore because I don’t want to burden him. Like there’s nothing I can say to make anything that he’s going through become any easier.”
“(Y/n),” Ander squeezes your hand, “You do realise you’re going through things too. This,” He gestures to himself, “You lost your best friend, you’re trying to keep up with school on top of that... it’s hard for you!”
“I sound so self involved.”
“You sound like you care about yourself and that’s not a bad thing, ever,” Ander encourages, “Talk to him, it’s Guzmán!”
“And tell him that I want him to love me again?”
“He never stopped.”
You want to believe your brother, of course you do. But it felt like there was nothing you could say that would change how Guzmán was acting.
“Hey,” His voice is familiar but you don’t want to hear it as Guzmán pokes his head around the door of the kitchen.
“Hey man,” Ander begins, “What do you fancy for breakfast?”
“I’m not staying,” Guzmán shakes his head, “I have somewhere to be.”
He’s not addressed you once. You could shrink into the ground and there was no way of changing his mind that you weren’t a priority - not now.
When he leaves is when Ander turns to you like the other half of the puzzle has clicked into place, “(Y/n)...”
“I’m going to get ready.”
You fight back the tears that threaten to spill as you’re walking toward the stairs, though there’s nobody to watch them fall. You could easily break down right here, cry until Ander comforted you enough to stop it or until Guzmán came back through that door and realised he’d forgot to kiss you before he left, forgot to tell you he loved you. But that wouldn’t happen and so, as always, you convince yourself that tears are futile and you pull them back in. As always.
- - - - - -
It’s another week that passes until you’ve practically given up on Guzmán. Not completely. Just figuratively. He’d been dipping in and out of school all week, he missed Ander’s appointment, he’d not even mentioned the party tonight and, for once, you didn’t care. You’d go anyway. You’d keep a drink in your hand, stay with your friends, let the lights go dim and forget that you weren’t loved by the one you loved.
It’s the typical story of a break up isn’t it? The girl realises her worth and the boy realises what he’s missing. Maybe that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him to see what he had. You wanted him to see the girl in front of him that was breaking at the prospect of her life and she needed him to be there to hold her waist and force those pieces of her to stay together.
And, just as you’d hoped, the club gives you that exact escape from it all. Everybody is there, nobody really caring about anyone other than free flowing champagne from overpriced bottles.
“(Y/n)!” Omar grins from behind the bar as you go up to order a drink, it always makes you slightly more comfortable when you see him working here, “The usual?”
“I’ll have a double please,” You call over the music.
His prominent brows raise as he laughs a little, “Dont tell your brother.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
That’s how you’d plan on getting through the night. You’d convince yourself that drink was a valued coping mechanism just for this one night. You were never much of a drinker. Although, it doesn’t seem that way when Guzmán turns up later.
“(Y/n)?!” He calls as he sees you.
You’re dancing in the middle of the floor with a half drunken champagne bottle in hand, somehow still managing to stay on your feet.
“What are you doing?” Guzmán exclaims when he walks over, checking you for any signs of damage.
“Enjoying myself, more than I have done in a while!” You laugh in his face and swirl around to the music.
“Come on babe, you never drink like this!”
“No, but you do,” You hiccup, stumbling as you face him, “Dance with me.”
“I’m not dancing with you, I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Come on, you’d dance with me if you loved me,” You tap at the lapel of the suit jacket he’s wearing, “Oh, shit, I forgot you didn’t love me anymore.”
His face drops. Had you really just accused him of that?
“(Y/n), you don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re going home,” Guzmán encourages, trying to grab hold of your arm.
“So now you fucking care about me?” You snap, “No, fuck this, Guzmán. I put up with enough of your shit.”
With that, you’re walking away from him and he’s hurrying through the crowd after you. It’s Ander that stops him.
“I’ll go, she doesn’t need to see you right now,” Your brother defends you, holding Guzmán back firmly.
“Are you kidding? I’m her boyfriend!” Guzmán retorts, trying to keep his eyes focused on you.
“Really?” Ander scoffs, “That’s not what it seems like.”
- - - - - -
Guzmán is pacing the floor of his own house as he waits to hear from you. The view outside is practically mocking him. He should be out there going to find you, wrap his arms around you and tell you he’d never stopped loving you. But the thirty missed calls and texts told him that wouldn’t be a good idea. His sleepless night meant that it was still early and he hoped you’d still be sleeping - even if he wanted to be beside you.
He near enough throws his phone when it starts to ring and it makes him jump away from his daze. And he has to blink a million times when he sees your face on the screen, accompanied by your name and a small crown emoji. Don’t fuck it up Guzmán.
“Hi Guzmán,” Your voice sounds so weak on the other end of the phone that it makes him stop dead in his tracks, “Are you okay?”
He’s surprised at himself when he smiles, “You want to ask about me?” He lets put a gentle, weak laugh, “Dont worry about me. Are you?”
“I’m fine, Ander made sure I got home safe, and got me through a lot of drunken emotions,” You explain, “I’ve realised I’m right to not drink much - I don’t like being drunk.”
He smiles but doesn’t respond, he’d rather hold onto every single word you were saying - let you carry the conversation.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you last night, that’s not how I wanted to have that kind of conversation,” You’re so calculated in your response that it kills him - it felt like you’d been drained of all emotion.
“No, come on, you were drunk- I just didn’t want you thinking that...”
“I meant what I said.”
His heart, his hope, his life, all feel like they crash harshly around him. They break down every piece of anything he’d built up. They take away every reason he has to get out of bed, every reason to feel loved. Just like that.
“I just need to know one thing, Guz,” You start but your voice is cracking now and he starts to realise that it’s the worst sound he could imagine, “When did you fall out of love with me?”
That was it. The words that would break him. The words that ripped away any opportunity he felt like he had at happiness. Losing you. That would be what would break it all.
“Was there something I could have done? More of, less of, anything?” You’re rambling a little but he wouldn’t dare interrupt, he wants to keep every piece of you he can, “I know it might not be worth knowing but I think I need to. Just that one question.”
His chest clenches and his head starts to throb and, just like that, there are tears pulling at his eyes and falling helplessly onto his freckles cheeks. You should be there to wipe them away. You should be there to tell him it was okay. No. He should be there to tell that to you.
“(Y/n),” He croaks out, an unwelcome sob following the word as he grips the phone with a weaker hold now, “Don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry Guzmán, I should go.”
His heart is screaming at him to say the right words.
“No, (Y/n), please!”
But the beep that comes through his phone screen tells him you’ve already gone. He keeps it pressed to his ear like you’ll be back in a split second. But it’s hopeless to think that you will be. Instead, he’s left with a thousand thoughts of everything he should’ve said to you, every time he should’ve told you how much he appreciated you. He thinks back to how many times he’s kissed you and how much more he should’ve been doing it, how he should’ve remembered every single detail of your body in bed and proven to you just how much he worshipped you. It was all of those feelings that he kept so internalised whilst he focused on everything else. Because you were always just there. And now you weren’t, the cliche of knowing what you’ve lost hits him like a ton of bricks.