BWAYD

Ben Literally Lights Himself on Fire Over Taco Bell and Then Breaks Up With You

"No, Y/N, you're wrong," Ben snapped.

Wrong about what, you ask? You should know that, you're Y/N! Let's just let Ben explain it.

"The superior Taco Bell meal is obviously the Crunchwrap Supreme, not the Quesarito," he said. "God, why did I even start dating you?"

You stepped back in shock. Ben had never spoken so harshly to you before, and certainly not over something as small as this. "Ben, you're not thinking straight," you pleaded, reaching for his hand. "Please, can we just take a deep breath and—"

"No, Y/N," he said. "I can't stay with someone who doesn't believe in the superiority of the Crunchwrap Supreme." And with that he turned around and walked away.

You fell into the nearest chair and put your head in your hands, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. Nice going, Y/N, you thought. Why didn't you just agree with him?

......

Your next few weeks were spent bouncing from couch to couch after you moved out of Ben's apartment. And of course, crying! Can't forget the crying. You would never hear him play the piano in the living room again, or listen to a Jukebox the Ghost song willingly. Even thinking of that weird thing he did where his voice switched to a British accent when he was angry brought on the tears.

You were truly broken.

Finally, you decided you had had enough. Exactly three months after you broke up, you got in your car and drove back to his apartment. The second it came into view, the memories flooded back – the night he wrote Fred Astaire, the night of your argument, and most importantly, the location of his spare key. You took a deep breath and knelt down to grab the key from under the mat. Ben was never one for secrecy.

"Ben?" you called, stepping into the house. "Are you here?"

"Y/N?" a voice said from another room. American with a slight British tilt to it. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me, Ben!" you cried, taking a few steps forward. "I've missed you so much..."

"I missed you too, Y/N," Ben said. He sounded slightly dazed, you noticed. "What are you doing here?"

"I've changed my mind," you told him. "I've seen the error in my ways. I know now that the Crunchwrap Supreme is superior to the Quesarito."

Ben's luminescent hazel orbs widened and he came around the corner to the living room. "Really?"

You nodded as he took your hands in his and your eyes met. But after a moment Ben frowned, a look of betrayal settling into his expression. "You're lying," he said. His voice had changed, the hint of British had now overtaken his whole voice. Oh, he's mad..

"No, no, Ben, I swear I'm telling you the truth! I see the light!"

"No!" he shouts Britishly, slamming his hand on the table. "No, you don't! And where did that table come from, Y/N? I thought we were in the living room!"

He was losing it, you could tell, and it smelled like there was something burning. Oh, this was worrying. You left Ben to his mental breakdown and entered the kitchen, where your suspicions were confirmed. Something was burning: the kitchen.

"Oh my god," you whispered. "Ben, what have you done?"

Quick footsteps from behind alerted you to Ben's presence, and you jumped to the side only to see Ben running directly into the flames. "Ben!" you cried. "Ben, no!! What are you doing??"

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said as his shirt caught fire, "but this is something I have to do." The flames engulfed your former partner, and your vision began to blur with smoke and tears.

Then something happened that you hadn't expected. The flames grew taller and Ben began to rise above them, his eyes flaming and his voice as British as ever. "Run, Y/N. Take my advice, and run while you still can."

Before you knew it, you were on the street outside Ben's apartment, running and running to the only place you could think of and the only person you knew could help you as a massive explosion sounded behind you. As your destination came up in front of you, you wiped the tears from your eyes and knocked, breathing hard.

The door opened, and you were greeted with concerned green eyes and blond hair. "Tommy," you said. "I need your help."