Murder On Mystreet (MystreetXReader)

thirty-three

Y/N = Your Name
F/Mc/M = Favorite McDonalds Meal

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Y/N's POV
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Crying. That's what I find myself doing today. I am currently parked outside McDonald's crying my eyes out. I promised Alina I'd bring home McDonald's for lunch after I went grocery shopping. I have the food, it's sitting in the passenger's seat. But I haven't left the parking lot. I parked my car and have been sat here crying for the past fifteen minutes. I cant stop, I don't know why. Tear's just pour from my eyes and I feel as if I'm drowning in wave upon wave of incomprehensible emotion.

A knock at my window allows a screech to escape my lips. Turning my head, I see Gene standing outside my window, a McDonald's chocolate milkshake in his hand. I recover from my momentary scare and wipe the tears from my eyes, though it does nothing for my cause, before rolling down the window.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

In answer, I lift the bag containing Alina's chicken nuggets, Aph's Big Mac, and my F/Mc/M from it's place on the passenger's seat and move it to the back. I unlock the door and he climbs in, sitting down in the passengers seat. He takes a small sip of his Chocolate milkshake before he speaks.

"I thought I recognized the car," he says.

"I'm getting lunch for Aph and Alina," I explain, my voice shaky and hoarse.

"I can see that," he says sarcastically, earning a sharp glare from me. "I can also see that you're crying."

"I'm fine," I say, wiping away the tears that had replaced the ones I had previously wiped away, only for more tears to replace them. I'm a literal fountain!

"No your not. What's wrong?" he says, his voice softening.

"I honestly don't know. I just cant seem to stop crying," I say with a pitiful laugh.

"That happens sometimes," Gene sighs. I glance at him, curious as to what he means. "I often find myself mourning Zenix. I'll just randomly be overwhelmed with grief and there's nothing I can do but cry," he explains.

I frown at him. "This isn't grief," I whisper.

He raises his eyebrows at me curiously. "Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I feel like I'm trapped. Like I'm stuck in hole and cant get out. There's no one to come and help me. It's just me and the dirt and its suffocating," I say, more tears making their way down my face. Literal fountain.

"Helplessness," Gene offers.

I turn to look at him, "Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Kind of. There's also anger. Anger that I cant get out. Anger that no one will help."

"Frustration. You feel helpless because there's nothing you can do, you're angry because there's no help, and your frustrated at it all," he says.

"But then why am I crying?"

"Because through it all, you're overwhelmed. When you really think about it, stress is what ultimately makes us all cry. When we're angry, sad, happy, frustrated, anything, it's because of stress. Stress in all forms can be overwhelming, and that's what prompts us to break down and cry. Whether it's tears of joy, anger, sadness, whatever, the root of it all is an overwhelming amount of stress."

I sit in silence for a moment, studying him intensely. My next action surprises me. I don't know what prompted me to do it. I immediately regretted it afterwards. It was stupid and reckless and dangerous. I might have just given Gene a death sentence. I don't know what to do. I do know that I kissed him. I kissed Gene hard and good. It was a rather good kiss. He didn't hesitate to kiss back. His lips are soft against mine. It's nice to kiss someone. I haven't felt the sensation of someone's lips on mine in over four months. I would by lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. But it was still stupid and dangerous, so I pulled away.