Looking back, it could have gone either way. It didn’t work out, which makes it look like fate, or a stupid decision, or both. But at the time, I did have a few things in my favor. I had him. I had our story. I had our memories. Stupid, right? But when things end abruptly it’s all you have left. Stupid memories, that you need to hug onto because it’s all you have left.
He was toxic and Fiona should have seen it coming. A bad boy falling in love with poor, south side, trash - it would have never worked out. It was NEVER going to be able to work out. But she was so fascinated by him, so intrigued by this bad boy facade that nothing mattered. She was determined to fix him - even if ‘fixing him,’ just meant pulling back layers after layers and figuring out the real him.
It’s been weeks. Three weeks and five days to be exact but, who was counting? She was still in bed - which was nothing like Fiona Gallagher. At least she wasn’t laying down today. She sat up in the bed, knee’s pressed against her chest as his words continued to replay in her mind. “We were never DESTINED to be together. We forced it.” It was a LIE. He knew it and more than anything, she fucking knew it. A love like that wasn’t FAKE. You can’t make up something like they shared. It was real, heart-wrenching real.
The more Fiona thought on it, the more she began to hold onto a hope that MAYBE just MAYBE that was the reason he left. Because the thought of Fiona taking away his bad boy facade was too much to handle. She brought out the soft side in him, a side of him no one has ever seen - and maybe it fucking terrified him. Even if it didn’t, she needed to believe that was the only reason.
She was lost in her thoughts, completely forced out of reality. His face was in the back of her eyelids and his voice was piercing her ears - he was no where in sight but fuck, she felt like he was inches away from her. Her phone began to ring, barely pulling her out of the trance she was in. She stumbled for her phone, crawling across her bed to pick up the buzzing electronic. What happened to just coming by instead of calling? Old fashion but she hated this phone. Fiona didn’t bother looking at the caller ID, she didn’t even bothering saving numbers to be honest.
She answered the phone, throat dry - voice cracking as she spoke. “Hello? Who’s this?”
