White Sheets | ✓

s k i n

to carlinwho for giving my story, champagne flutes a shot. Thank you mama! (i'm totally rooting for a we the misfits sequel hahaha) love you lots 💕

~

  Jean's eyes stung.

  She was pretty sure that her make up was ruined, that her eyes were red and swollen, that her nose was runny, that her cheeks were puffy... she was an absolute fûcking mess.

  She never cried this hard before. Sure, she cried over her father's unfaithfulness and her mother's stupidity, but never, not in a hundred years, did she think that she would ever cry over some stupid guy.

  They were only fûck buddies, that was it. No strings attached, no feelings to fûck them up.

  And this wasn't the first time she had this kind of relationship with a guy; usually when either one of them felt that they were getting too attached to the other, they'd talk about it over coffee or after sěx, and eventually, they'd agree that it was time to stop and she was perfectly fine with that kind of relationship, seeing as every guy she'd been with was okay with it, too.

  And then this shït happened.

  Allen dropped those three words on her so effortlessly, just like how her father did over the years, and the next thing she knew, she felt icy fear spread through her whole body, which was replaced by rage almost instantly, because fûck, who did he think he was?

  Smooth and cheesy lines, delicate touches here and there... but that didn't mean that he already had some kind of claim on her!

  I'm not like her, Jean repeated this mantra in her head over and over after she wiped her tears with the back of her hands. I'm not like her. I'll never be like her. Never.

  She didn't want to feel anything for him except for lust—because that's the only thing when you're supposed to feel when you're having casual sěx, right? Nothing more.

  But... fûck. Why did her heart feel like it was being ripped in half when she saw how mournful and hurt his eyes were?

  Jean closed her eyes tightly once more, trying to rid herself of those ridiculous thoughts and also trying not to cry so dámn hard again.

  It took all her remaining willpower to remove her hands from her face, finally looking up at Allen after what seemed like an eternity.

  Her chest tightened and her heart shattered into another thousand pieces when she saw that his hands were covering his face, faint groans and sniffles emanating from him.

  Oh, God. He was crying.

  And in that moment, she lost control of herself, of everything—with her hands gripping the duvet and her breaths accelerating, she staggered towards his direction and wrapped her arms around him in a shaky embrace.

  Allen gasped at the sudden impact of skin to skin contact. His breath was caught in his throat and he couldn't move an inch.

  "I... I'm sorry," Jean whispered brokenly, her voice quivering. "I'm so sorry, Allen."

~

fin