four days had passed, feeling more like four agonising long months for brando. You dismissed him, no matter how desperately he wants to apologise. And his phone hadn’t lit up with that usual notification from you, only letting down his hopes even more.

if he didn’t take matters into his own hands, he’d probably lose you to some other undeserving freak, and brando couldn’t take it. The worst part? He was so horribly in love with you, he was making all the wrong decisions in order to keep face.

he raised one hand to push back his hair, typing a rather frustrated, yet un-admittedly desperate message to you. Brando was too distracted to even read what he wrote himself, but to you, it was something like: “can’t you see i’ve never been so sorry before?” and if that wasn’t the truth, brando couldn’t have lied to you either way. ‎ ‎ he wouldn’t even let his phone shut off again, not until he gets the reply he’s been so pathetically waiting for. His leg bouncing up and down anxiously to every beat of his clock, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips.

he’d gone from bully, to fling, to friend, then right back to foe. And all he knew was that he wanted you back, as stupid as it sounded, he didn’t want to mess this one up.