Misery
Syverson x Reader
Summary: A slip of the tongue after a few too many drinks is all it took to replace a once solid friendship with a big fat question mark.
Warnings: Alcohol, Angst, Cursing, *Friends-to-Lovers* (Almost), Hurt/No Comfort
18+ ONLY
*MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI*
AO3 Link
Misery loved company and it had latched onto her like she was the last life preserver on a sinking ship. It didn’t even bother to ask if she knew how to swim before imbedding it’s talons in the deepest parts of her. As long as they were together, Misery was perfectly content allowing her to drown. And days like today, she was inclined to let it pull her under.
Sy’s house was dark as she sat alone in his closet, clutching his favorite red t-shirt to her chest. Nothing could be heard except the soft hiccups of her quiet sobs and the distant cackling of Misery, who was more than happy to see her finally accept it’s company.
It had been a week since she and Sy had spoken, leaving her unsettled mind unable to do anything but obsess over their last conversation.
Three little words. Three specific little words was all it took to obliterate almost a decade of friendship and crush two hearts that were already held together by threads.
She had always worried those words would disturb the comfort and easiness she and Sy had together, but she never would’ve imagined them being the beginning of the end.
Sy snorted as he snatched the remote from her hand, not caring what was on the next channel as long as it wasn’t the news. They were both four beers deep, passing a bottle of Jack between the two of them, and he wasn’t about to let her anxiety take hold and ruin her night.
“Come on,” she complained. “I wanna see the new anchor lady. She’s really hot.”
Sy shook his head, giggling. He giggled when he was drunk—and only when he was drunk. It was one of her favorite things about him. In a state of sobriety, the decorated army captain would never own up to it, but she knew. She thought about that giggle when she was upset or angry, or hell, when she was just missing him. Even the thought of it never ceased to make her feel lighter.
And it was that giggle that prompted her eyes to brighten and a goofy smile to settle upon her lips as she unconsciously whispered the words she swore she never would.
“Fuck, I love you, Sy.”
She had to have imagined that scenario a million times since they’d known one another. He’d either say it back and they’d live happily ever after or he’d let her down easy and they’d awkwardly ignore it for the rest of their lives. But she got neither of those responses.
A deafening silence settled uncomfortably in the room, Misery peeking around the kitchen corner to watch as dread took over.
She was just as shocked as Sy was to hear those words out in the open. Normally, she didn’t allow herself to even think them in his presence for fear of being betrayed by her big fat mouth. Unfortunately, her drunk mind didn’t get that memo.
They had both sobered up at her confession, but neither of them seemed to know how to move forward. Her mouth opened as if she had something else to say, but her brain had short circuited once the weight of the situation set in. She just sat there, staring stupidly at Sy like she was expecting him to know what came next.
He broke eye contact, his chest deflating as he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He should’ve been happy to hear her say that—to hear her say the words he dreamt of hearing for years, but instead panic flooded his chest as his heart began beating erratically. He had wanted to wait, damn it.
“I love you too,” he admitted softly. “But I didn’t wanna say anything yet, darlin’.”
Confusion passed over her face, her brows knitting together as she waited impatiently for him to continue.
“I’m leavin’.”
Her world stopped. He swore in nearly every letter and a million times more once he returned that he wasn’t going back. He promised her that the last time was really the last time. And now he was leaving in just over a week.
“I want you, baby. I’ve always wanted you. But it ain’t fair of me to ask you to wait.”
Her face felt hot and her stomach dropped so quickly she felt sick. Misery giggled from the doorway, delighting in the way Sy’s words echoed in her head, waiting for it’s time to take over. The idea of him going away again made her unbearably nauseous. She couldn’t stand not knowing if he was going to come back home to her.
“How long?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“How long have you known?” She clarified.
Sy dodged her penetrating gaze as he fiddled with the label of the whiskey bottle in his hand. He knew he fucked up. He’d known he was fucking up for weeks, but he just couldn’t bring himself to obliterate the sense of security he knew she felt when deployment wasn’t hanging over their time together.
“Awhile,” he finally admitted.
“And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”
Her tone was unnervingly calm. Sy could count the number of times he’d heard her use it on one hand and it always resulted in an explosion. His next words had better be the right ones if he wanted to defuse the bomb. Cut the wrong wire and there’d be nothing left behind but broken hearts and a shattered friendship.
“Of course I was gonna tell ya. I was just…waitin’ on the right time.”
“So you waited until the fucking week before you disappear for god knows how long to fucking tell me?”
Wrong wire.
Tears blurred her vision as she recalled the agony on his face, wishing more than anything that she could take it all back. But she’d been too late. The venom she spat lingered on her tongue and the memory of his pleading eyes tugged at her heart. She wished she would’ve exerted more self control in that moment, but his confession had her seeing red. It was bad enough that he’d broken his promise to retire, but waiting until the last minute to say anything had practically set her on fire.
After days of silence and countless sleepless nights, she finally psyched herself up to apologize for the name calling and her hateful words, hoping he would at least hear her out. She’d waited a week for fear that Sy wouldn’t want to see her again after the tantrum she threw that night. But by the time she decided she couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to him without knowing she didn’t actually hate him, his house was dark, his driveway was empty, and his army duffle no longer sat at the bottom of the hallway closet.
“Don’t expect me to be here when you get back, Sy.”