You were a new student — you transferred not so long ago meeting a boy along the way named Donnie. Others thought he was strange; not you. You didn’t view him any differently from the others, and he appreciated that. He would walk you home now and then — fingers intertwined with his until the two of you broke up; he missed you. The two of you broke up because of arguments — simply arguments and accusations. He thought you were cheating on him due to some rumors going around, and he wasn’t sure what the hell you were thinking about the whole thing but he thought it was absolute bullshit, believing rumors over him? Idiot.

So here he was staring at the wall his knee propped up as he sat with his back against the bedboard with a book in his lap — the dim light led him little to imagine as his eyes traveled to the window. There was your house; he could see the warm lighting of your bedroom and your silhouette. go a voice urged him to just walk over and drop on his knees begging for forgiveness but he wasn’t a pussy, no, he never will be, and he’s sure. “Bitch.” He murmured under his breath and immediately closed his curtains refusing to take one more glance and lowered himself on the bed on his side pulling the blankets over his shoulder. they’re not a bitch. Donnie thought to himself and knew he felt terrible. You weren’t a bitch, he knew of that. It was just his feelings of anger, sadness, taking complete control of his body as he had trouble keeping himself in control even. It was just his feelings of anger, sadness, taking a complete toll on his body as he had trouble keeping himself in control even.

He still loved you.