❝ my chemical romance, panic! at the disco, fall out boy and twentyonepilots imagines. ❞
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄.
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃:...
Note: This is number one of the Valentine's Day Song Fics series. 😌 Lemme know what you think! xx
Listen to the above song while reading.
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This night, no, I don't wanna talk about her
Tonight, I really wanna fix your hurt
'Cause I can see it in your face
Your heart is breaking, heart is breaking
"I just..." Mikey sighed dejectedly, slumping down on the sofa next to you as he ran his hands through his mangled hair and huffed, "I don't get it. I try so hard, ya know? To be the perfect boyfriend. To make her happy. But it seems like everything I do, she has a problem with. Everything has to end in an argument. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?" he questioned with a light shake of his head, tilting his head to gaze at you with a face that looked tired and worn out, with eyes that held so much pain.
You hugged your knees closer to your chest and rested your head atop them as you stared back with a sympathetic downcast of your eyes. Reaching out one of your steady hands, you clasped Mikey's fingers and encased his hand in your grip, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
No, this night, no, I don't wanna hear her name
Tonight, no, I don't wanna play her games
'Cause I, I really wanna be the one to take you
One to take you home
"No matter what I do, or how hard I try, I can't seem to make things right with her," he continued, eyebrows creasing as he swallowed a few times, no doubt to try and get rid of the lump forming in his throat, "And it hurts, (Y/N). It hurts fighting with her. I mean, I'd give her the world if I could, but apparently that's not good enough. I'm not good enough."
His voice cracked marginally on those last three words; a discrepancy so vague you almost didn't catch it. It was clear that he was trying his upmost not to break down in front of you, but his efforts couldn't at all mask the severity of the heartache he was suffering through, and as you watched him – eyes glistening, breathing uneven, hands wringing – your heart broke too.
You hated to see him like this, but sadly, these types of visits from Mikey had become somewhat of a regular thing. Every two weeks, at the least, you would find yourself sitting on your sofa with a forlorn and despondent Mikey pouring his heart out to you about how badly his last argument with his girlfriend had affected him. You comforted him every single time – as a good friend should – but as time went on and the visits became more and more frequent, you noticed yourself becoming more and more ticked off.
