707xReader: Fix You

Twenty One [Part Two]

☆ Trigger Warning: Alluding to a Mental Disorder. Skip to "[Y/N]'s  P.O.V" if you believe this could be triggering for you. There will be a synopsis of Zen's P.O.V at the end ☆

Zen's P.O.V:

I stare outside at the crackling fire I started in the woods behind my house, watching as the cheap plastic of the burn phones from the convenience store burn away. It was nice watching them burn, almost satisfying.

When the job was done, I take the bucket of water I lugged out here and drown the flames in water. As the fire went out it became cold again. I pulled my black hoodie tightly around myself and headed back to my house.

My parents weren't home, again. Not like I cared, I had the whole house to myself and could do whatever I wanted. As I trudged up the stairs towards my room, I stopped at a hall mirror and admired myself. I saw a single strand of hair sticking out of place and carefully smoothed it down with the palm of my hand.

You must be perfect. I reminded himself, You must look perfect. I feel my fingers clench into a fist and dig into the palms of my hand. I then take the mirror off of the hooks and smash it into the ground. Glass shards litter the hall floor.

"Damn it..." I sigh, staring at the shattered glass on the floor. I strategically walk over the shards of glass and go into the hall closet. I pick up a broom and pan. I also scour the closet for another mirror that looks exactly the same as the one I had just broken. I had tons of back up mirrors, this was nothing new to my family.

I had convinced his parents that I was getting better. They let me see the therapist less and less, but I still got medicine prescribed. Little did they know I'd throw out the medicine, and, if they made me take it in front of them, I would go the bathroom and make myself throw it up. I didn't want medicine to change who I am, I liked who I am.

I have to say, using burn phones to contact [Y/N] and Seven was some of my best work. It was almost like improvisation, something that I liked to do in drama class. Seven and [Y/N] were just characters in my story. However, I would like it better if Seven wasn't one of the main characters, and it was just [Y/N] and I. Life would be so much easier if Seven would just disappear. 

I thought the texts and the truck would scare him, but the tracker feature I activated on his iPhone says otherwise. He was at [Y/N]'s house. Doesn't he know that I've had a crush on her way before he did? Before she even knew he existed. It should be me at her house doing whatever couples do, not him.

[Y/N] and I have been in drama class together ever since Freshman year. She seemed unsure about taking drama as an elective at first, but now we are both seniors and she stuck with it. Part of that had to be because of me, right? I mean, we worked together on everything. Our ideas were always the best and Mrs. Harmony knew it. She called us the untouchable duo because everyone else's ideas could never compare, nor could they compare to our chemistry onstage. 

I have always wanted to tell her how I feel, but figured it would be better if she told me she liked me first. That's how the scene always played out in my head: she would tell me she liked me. She would tell me in Drama class after we performed one of our big scenes together, and I would tell her I knew she liked me and that I liked her, too.

But Seven ruins everything. Just like he did with Mary-Claire, or MC as he would always call her. It made me sick to my stomach to see them together, so I had to do what any other rational human being would do. I had to break them up. 

I didn't plan on hurting her. 

I didn't plan on staying with the RFA club when Mary-Claire and Seven started getting close. I didn't plan on coming back that night when Mary-Claire asked if I was coming. I didn't plan on her asking me to drive her home that night. I didn't plan on going fifteen over the speed limit. And, I certainly didn't plan on getting into a car accident. It was an accident, and Seven never believed me when I told him this. None of this was a part of the script I had planned out for Mary-Claire and I.