Game na? Game na.

“What do you guys want to happen? I don’t want to deal with this shit anymore!”

I raised my eyebrows at his stupid face. His stupid, frustrated look was met with my incredulous and shocked expression. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and wipe that stupid, stupid, stupid look on his stupid face.

YOU STARTED THIS, YOU LIAR. If you just said point blank “I like her. I choose her.” then this stupid drama wouldn’t have escalated to this! And what do you mean by ‘You don’t want to deal with this shit’? SO YOU WERE JUST FUCKING WITH OUR MINDS WHEN YOU WERE ACTING ALL FRIENDLY JUST MINUTES BEFORE? You fake fuckers.

I felt a hand grab at my arm. My friend pulled me away from the center of the scene. I was shaking from anger and probably from the alcohol as well. I was pushed to sit down and people were asking what happened. Or maybe offered words of comfort, I don’t know. Everything was a big blur after that.

I grabbed a new bottle from the bucket and took a long swig.

~*~

The next morning, I woke up to the annoying ringing of my phone. Still dressed in the same alcohol and vomit stained clothes, I sat up and tried to make sense of my surroundings.

I fumbled under the blanket for my phone. It was him.

“Hey, let’s talk. Meet us at the lib steps. We’ll all be there.”

~*~*~

“What do you guys want to happen? I don’t want to deal with this shit anymore!”

“IS THAT SO?!?”

“YES!”

“FINE. Let’s just stop this.
From now on, we don’t exist to each other.”

“Fine. From now on, we don’t talk to each other.
All right? This fucking starts now.”

Writing Challenge: Hindsight is 20-20.

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