0, 4.

151 4 5
                                    

WORDS; 1,771.
TO; Yourself.
WARNINGS; Violence, hospital visit, murder mention.
VOCAB; (E/C) = Eye Colour.

You swiftly followed Apollo in his bedroom, he was glaring up at you.  "Say...  Did you by chance open -"  He started, but you cut in.  "What's in the fridge, Apollo?"  Your tone struck him like a dagger and he begun to stammer, "Um, haha...  Y - You don't have to worry about th - that."

"What's in the fridge."  This stern repetition really bothered him, he was becoming jittery as he stood up, now becoming almost level with you.  Though the two of you were two inches off in height.  "Stop asking that...  Please, (Y/N)."  You sighed at his beg, keeping silent to try pressuring him into speaking again when those familiarly pretentious tears came spilling from his eyes.  "Please!  I'm not the one you should be afraid of, I'm only trying to help you!"

The tapping of your foot was like taking a hammer to the side of his head, and Apollo grew frustrated at your impatience, but more so frustrated with himself for getting caught up in all this secret admirer drama.

"...I burnt the letter."  Your eyes widened at his confession.  "What?  Why would you do that?"  You interrogated, hearing the shudder in his breath as he thought over how to explain this.  "Well?"

Pressure was on Apollo like he was being held at knifepoint, but this made his brain shut down.  "(Y/N)..."  He muttered.  "I'm...  Really sorry."  Apollo exhaled the words, now experiencing some sort of disembodied urge to ram into (Y/N) as hard as possible and take you out, which lead him to approach you and soon be hovering over you.  "Apollo...?"  You backed away, "What are you doing?  What are you sorry about?  You're creeping me out, won't you stop?"

"This."  He answered to the collective of your questions before bringing his arm down hard on your skull, hitting a specific pressure point that made you pass out quick and not endure too much pain from the blow.  "I'm sorry it had to be this way.  I never planned for this to happen, he's crazy.  You've gotta believe me."  His words were garbled into a low amalgamation as he stood over your unconscious body, manically mumbling more excuses and apologies.  "I'm so sorry."

You shot up from your bed, glancing around the room.  It was cleaned, this made him wonder if the punch he just took was only a dream.

But no, when you grazed your hand over your head, a shot of pain was delivered down your spine as if to prove everything was real, and you would never escape this reality.  When your eyes turned to the window, there was only darkness.  It had to be late by now, how long had you been knocked out for?  You know one thing for sure, you won't be going to Apollo to ask that like you were so foolish to do at Jared's request.  Now he was gone.  What to do?

A trip to the mirror, and just standing in general made a huge display of your new headache, now you could see the source of it in the reflection.  The bruise, which swelled and ached.  Why was it like this?  There was something about it that gave you questions, more and more until you realised you had forgotten most importantly, how this happened.  Amnesia?  The throbbing pain was to blame for the information having suddenly slipped your mind.  Something is seriously wrong.

You desperately searched for your phone, letting out progressively more panting as you went in for five minutes, dizziness setting in when you clued on to the bulge in your hoodie's pocket.  It was on you all along!

OB • SESS / M!Reader x Simpbur.Where stories live. Discover now