joost thing my ex bf wrote 💔
“anyone who ever had a heart, or sang a lonesome song– would sell their little souls, just to make it with the blonde.”
Word Count: 754
It’s a dark day, rain clashing against your roof, thunder clapping, your stomach churning. Your boyfriend was supposed to be there hours ago, as it was your anniversary; yet there you are, curled up in bed, all alone, fresh tears drowning you into a sad aura that lingers in the air.
Your thoughts travel miles. You think of the first day you met him. Everyone was crowded in a circle playing spin the bottle. Your turn came around. Your mindset was spinning with the bottle, ready to kiss someone, no matter who it was. It landed on this blonde boy with blue eyes. He immediately got flustered; you thought it was cute. You leant in, cupping his face with your hands, and diving straight in. He tasted like beer and smoke, which in this case was.. Good?
All throughout the rest of that game you had your focus on him. You noticed every little detail; the way he took a drag from his cigarette, the way his entire face lit up when he smiles, the 1983 on his hands, the higher pitched voice he had when he was happy. After this party, you exchanged phone numbers, and started talking.
You get caught in this train of thought when you hear a knock at your door. “Love? Are you okay?”, the voice entering questions. It was him. Him with the stupid black suit. Him with the bad memory, him which you are currently pissed off at, so you ignore him. He looks at you with pleading eyes, taking caution, slowly walking towards you. When he arrives at his destination, he sits beside you on the bed, to the right of you. His big hands gently carress your back. “What’s wrong? Please tell me.”
Something snaps in you. “What’s wrong? I wonder what’s wrong. Maybe its that my boyfriend forgot our first anniversary, spending it out doing who knows what- instead of coming home just this one day for me. One fucking day. But no, producing music matters more. I don’t matter at all.” You feel the knot in your throat, your breathing getting heavier, and for some reason your entire head feels like its gonna collapse at any chance it gets.
“Baby– i–”
“Get out of my room. You can sleep on the couch.”
“What?”
“You heard me, im not repeating myself.”
“But–”
“No buts, you did this to yourself.”
Joost doesn’t argue; he doesn’t know how to. He gets up lazily, walking out of the room, not looking back once. You feel tension in the air when he slams the door shut, something he has never done. You plop your body backwards on the bed. You don’t cry now; not anymore. You just sit there, questioning everything and everyone.
The next day, you wake up to a plate of bacon, eggs, and a waffle on your beside-the-bed-dresser, along with a cup of milk and a little note. You laugh, the stress of everything last night + how stupid this little interaction of joost’s is making you. You unfold the note.
Im really sorry about last night. please dont hate me. If you are okay with it, i got a reservation at your favorite resturaunt. Be there at 18:00, if you dont come i completely understand. I made you breakfast too, and i cleaned the house spotless. I know sorry wont just cut it, but i hope youll let it slide.
-xoxo, your onion boy
You let out a sigh after reading this. You could hardly do this to him, let alone hate him. He’s always there for you when you need it, you decide you need to give him a break. He’s been so caught up in his music, trying to get it all done so he can spend time with you, and you screamed at him for an anniversary. Yes, it meant a lot, but no, it wasn’t necessary.
1000k likes tofor part tewo hahahah aahksjhskjah haha ha aaha aahh a a ha ha
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LMAO GUYS SHOULD I MAKE HIM COMPLETE IT? 😭😭😭
