Shakespeare one shots

The one where they say things they don't mean

Okay. So I maaay have broken my promise of three fluffs in a row, though I'll write them too. For the moment you're getting the angst I've been itching to write.

Not the one you're expecting, though, Annael. Nyehehe.

Also: fellow MPHFPC fans, look up in the media. Do those two look like Fugh or am I too obsessed?

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~ Hamlet's PoV ~

I took another large swig from the bottle in my hand. I was at the bar, attempting to block out reality with alchohol...

Again.

This had become an average day for me. I knew the other bar regulars by name, and I could tell you why each of them was here. There was Connor, the barely-legal punk with homophobic parents and mental issues. There was Alex, the war vet who had confessed to cheating on his wife publically before telling her. Bastard. There was Heather, the extremely depressed girl who liked green and had some seriously fucked-up friends.

And me. The grieving loser whose boyfriend won't leave him alone for two seconds.

Speaking of my boyfriend, he usually came to pick me up and scold me around this time. Huh. I guess he was running late or something...

I kept telling myself that. A few hours later, I finally just decided to get myself home instead of waiting for him.

~ Time skip instead of my detailed description of him getting a ride somehow, paying the driver, getting out of the car, and going into the building ~

I was still halfway in my jacket as I collapsed on the couch, too drunk to find my own nose. I managed to fall into a sleeping position before I completely passed out. Lucky me.

The next morning, I awoke to a murderous headache and a pissed boyfriend.

"You went drinking again, Hamlet," Horatio stated.

"Yes, I know."

"I thought we agreed that you would stop doing that," he pressed, kneeling down in front of me to stare me down.

"We did," I grumbled. "I was just going for one last run before I quit."

"You said that yesterday." He stood up and turned away, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"You need to put an end to this! It's not good for you! Have you thought even for a second about what all this alchohol is doing to your body?" Horatio exclaimed.

I drew in a long breath and glowered at him.

"I've thought plenty about it, Horatio. You don't understand me at all! The things I've done, every mistake I've made. They weren't for nothing! I'm trying not to fall apart here, and you're scolding me like I'M the issue!" I snapped.

The shorter boy had backed up a few steps as I was speaking. He was shaking slightly, but he was desperately trying to hide it.

"Hamlet, I can barely recognize the thing you've turned into. I'm tired of losing you again and again and again! You keep slipping away. Do you even care about anything anymore?" He attempted a glare, but it ended up looking much more pleading and devastated than intimidating.

I would normally have melted at that look, but not this time. My pride was going too strong now to relent to him.

"I do care about things! I cared about my father! I cared so goddamn much about him that I can't just settle back down and pretend everything is going to be okay! I'm not like you, Horatio! I refuse to brush off the truth and lie to myself saying that everything will be fine if I just plaster on a happy facade and keep going!" I shouted.

By now we were both standing, our faces just a small distance apart. One one hand, I wanted to pull him into a kiss and apologize. Anything just so that he'd smile again. On the other, I was as pissed as he was, and neither of us ever backed down when we were pissed. This was helpful when arguing with homophobes, but extremely painful right now.

"You're acting as if your life is this disposable object that you can just toss aside at any whim! You keep making me pick up the pieces, Hamlet! When will this end? Will anything I do ever be enough for you!?" Horatio cried as a stray tear rolled down his face.

Oh God, I wish he hadn't started crying. I felt my heart shatter at the thought that I had caused him to be like this. But I had started something, and I was going to finish it.

"Well, you certainly seem to be sick of me. If you're so tired of my way of mourning for a fucking dead family member, then just go. You've only ever considered your own feelings anyway," I snarled, giving him a push toward the door.

He shook his head and turned away, storming over to pull on a pair of shoes. I heard him mumble something as he did that made me want to murder someone and cry at the same time.

"Whatever. You're nothing to me."

I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him to face me, staring him dead in the eye.

"Then say it," I growled. "Say it to my face."

Rageful and upset, he opened his mouth to do as I said. I mentally braced myself.

"You..." he trailed off. Taking a shaky breath, he tried again.

"You're n... you're... y-you're nothing to..."

He turned away, covering his face with his hands as he let out a sob. He let his arms slack to his sides as he clenched his fists.

"God fucking dammit, I can't," he whispered. He hung his head, shaking with tears.

"W-what?" I stuttered, dumbfounded.

"I SAID I CAN'T, HAMLET!" he screamed. He was crying harder now, and to be honest I was close to doing the same.

"I-I can't," he continued quietly, no longer having the will or energy to shout. "I can't s-say it. I told you once that I would n-never lie to you, and I still stand by th-that promise."

Before I could organize my thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence, Horatio was out the door and calling someone to come pick him up. I watched from the window a few minutes later as Helena's car pulled up to the curb and Helena and Hermia immediately pulled him into a hug. I could see him shaking even at this distance. The girls ushered him into the car and drove off, presumably to one of their apartments.

I hadn't noticed that I was crying until then. I covered my mouth with my hand and continued to let the sobs wreck through my body, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor as I brought my legs to my chest and rested my forehead on my knees.

Up until that moment, I hadn't known what it was like to feel absolutely and utterly awful. I had been close before, but I'd never truly realized the deepest extent of the feeling.

I found myself muttering various phrases as I broke down, under the vain illusion that Horatio would hear them.

"I'm so fucking sorry..."

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You crying?

I am.

Shit.

I can't think of anything else to say.

Goodnight, faeries. When you truly love something, may it always return to you.