Musical Theatre/Broadway Oneshots

(Heathers) JD Part 2

The world just kept spinning. The day of Kurt and Ram's joined funeral had been nothing but constant shit-talking, fame hungry teens. Their lies of sympathy had grown even more ridiculous and sickening. JD had felt like a scar on my back, a dark and looming weight on my shoulders that I could barely ignore. "I hate you JD." I mumbled to myself before collapsing on my bed.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I heaved myself upright while untangling tired knots. JD was due anytime soon and, for some unknowing reason, I hadn't given it much of a second glance. Hadn't thought of that maniacal stare that had drilled into my eyes. Hadn't recited the psychotic chuckle that he bellowed, its destination marching to my ears. It was nothing but an empty threat that, only now. At this point in time. Mere seconds before my supposed inevitable death, that his fear had dawned on me.

Wet warmth had come over me. The idea of a TRUE suicide was an outlet. Not the only outlet, I'm sure, but time was nearing its close. My close.

I could hear my mothers steps in the kitchen while my father conversed in rambles. As long as they were distracted. That was key. The wardrobes browning doors swung open as I stepped in. The darkness inside consumed my body and soon enough, I'd see the darkness within me.

"C'mon y/n." JD sang in a slow, menacing tune as he clawed along the wall, up the lattice. His humming of the menacing tune becoming more clear and soon filling the empty bedroom. He hauled himself over the windowsill, accidentally adding body weight on his bloody-bandaged hand. He felt the splint snap, and tried to pay it no mind, but failed ultimately with a heavy groan.

"Oh, y/n... the things you make me do." He stalked around the room, his sharp brow raising higher as his eyes scanned. "Where are you?" He sing-songed again, scratching his the back of his head with the til of his pistol, his index finger dangerously nearing the trigger. If not for the safety, he'd be jam on your walls.

"Oh, sweet y/n." He sat on the very edge of your bed, teetering on the balls of his feet. As he looked up to the ceiling with a blank expression, his head dropped down and ticked towards the wardrobe doors. "Found ya." His smirk reappeared as he sauntered over, and with a quick yank of the handle...

Keep calm, keep calm. Slow breaths.

"No!" He seethed repeatedly through his teeth, the gun slipped out from his fingertips as his hands clammed into his hair. I could see his hands wanting to grab me as I peeked but never did. His hands were dripping with tears as he stumbled backwards and against the drawer.

All I heard were heavy sobs and low mumbles of "I love you's". The fabric slipped around and my feet felt the ground; all too quickly as I fell forwards on my face. The squeak of the bed followed after and then a cover of warmth engulfed me. Warmth has come again.

"I told you not to leave me." He speaks in broken sobs as his fingers cling and dig tightly into my person. "I'm sorry. Y/n, please, don't leave me. I love you." Tears trailed my neck and shoulder then flowed to my shirt. I had only just mustered the strength to revel in the embrace myself, only not as tight as he. But then my strength cane through and I was fully able tool soothe this broken boy.

"JD. You can't-" "I won't! I swear on my life, I won't!!" His eyes looked as if he were about to pop out(!) But through that, I was able to find the boy I had once fallen for. He was in there, begging to get out. And I wasn't about to leave him struggling when he was so close to the surface of escaping.

"No more." I pulled forward my tinniest finger and felt wrap his good one round mine. "No more. I promise."

A.n: Really is not my best, I apologise. And promise they'll get better.