𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍 artist who never experienced love until you met Bella, not knowing a small mutual crush could crush your life forever.
[Bella Ramsey x reader]
[they/them non-binary Bella]
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"THEN THEY— then they drove off," you spluttered, tripping over your words now and then as you were ranting to Alya over FaceTime. You tended to do that, always stuttering when you're agitated.
Alya told you continuous times that she'd have to side with Bella, saying it wasn't the nicest thing you could do. Those words went in one ear and out the other, refusing to hear your best friend imply that you were wrong.
She huffed at your difficulty and childish manner. You were so close to hanging up the phone, still freshly filled with anger since the argument was no longer than 2 hours ago.
"Y/N—"
"Bella thinks I don't have boundaries? Are you serious?" Your laughing indicated fury, then harshly biting down on your bottom lip until it bled.
You couldn't figure out what stage you're at... were you and Bella breaking up? That's what scared you most behind the mask of rage.
You never stopped the brutal words that traveled out of your mouth, leaving your best friend experiencing a side of you she never encountered before. "I feel like I'm the mature one here— I- I— I wouldn't get mad if Bella sat next to another girl." Every word was untrue, too caught up in your temper to consider the words that escaped your lips.
You hung up the phone without warning, zoned out as the familiar water liquid sneakily dropped down your eyes.
The worst thing about getting hurt is the memory of the person you're hurting for. They love to come up unexpectedly and hear your sobs, tearing you down as you cry all night.
You forbade yourself to do that, going along the lines of, "If Bella wants to get mad at me, I can do the same." You were acting overly immature, but it felt like something brainwashed you at that moment, since it was highly unlikely for you to be this way.
You slept it off. The next day, you were slacking off at work. Marcus took an observation of your happy-go-lucky energy yesterday and you're leave-me-alone-I-have-a-shitty-life energy now
Alya took a bite out of the soggy bread, sitting on her daily high chair stool that stood across the marble counter, getting a good view of the kitchen behind the open door.
Marcus glanced at her then you repeatedly, until he built up the courage to ask, "What's going on?" It was easy to make out something was off, from the droopy bread Alya chewed to the extremely noticeable eye bags you had.
The girl clasped her thick hair, groaning as if she had a headache. Worry increased in the young adult, putting the towel he once had in his hand over his shoulder so he could place his arms on the counter, waiting for Alya to talk.
"I don't know what I did," she mutters, the shakiness in her voice informing Marcus that she was a hundred percent not okay. "Y/N is mad at me because fucking Bella is mad at her."
