“Watch it, loser!”
“S-sorry.” You said quietly.
“Yeah you better be, bitch!”
You sighed and continued to walk down the school hallway. In the distance you could hear other students rolling their eyes and sneering in your direction. You were almost to your locker when you were suddenly shoved to the side so hard that you fell on the cold floor. You looked up and saw Gilbert pointing at you and laughing along with the other students who saw.
“Stupid frau! How dare you get in the way of the awesome me.” He said proudly before catching up with his friends.
You sighed as you lifted yourself up and finally made it to your locker. This was just like any other day. You were always being bullied by almost everyone while others were too scared to help, afraid that they would be the next victim. You hated this. You hated that you had to live like this every day. Gilbert was not the real threat. The one who started all your torture was “Mr. Hero” himself. Alfred F. Jones was the most popular boy in school and was your worst bully. He also used to be your best friend.
You first met him when you transferred to a different middle school. He was so cool; he didn’t care what anybody thought of him. You both also had a lot in common. You both loved video games and always hanged out at the local burger joint. You were always hanging out with each other and he always had your back and you had his.
You smiled at the happy memories then it quickly faded away. That seemed like forever ago. You sighed once again and headed to your last class of the day. Sadly, you shared that class with Alfred and his “friends”. This really disturbed you since you loved this class. Art was your favorite subject but because of him you dreaded it.
You were currently sitting in the park with your sketchbook drawing whatever came to your mind.
You looked up and saw a cherry Alfred walking up to you.
“Hey Alfred! What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you dudette! I bought this killer new game and I was asking if you want to try it out?” he asked holding up the game case.
“Hell yeah! Lets go.” You said getting up, dropping your sketchbook in the process.
“What’s this?” Alfred asked, picking up the book.
“It’s my sketchbook.”
“Damn I didn’t know you could draw. You’re a freakin artist, (y/n)!” he said looking through your sketches.
“Oh those are just sketches. You should see my finished work.”
“I wanna see them! Please!” he pleaded.
“I thought we were gonna play that game you bought.”
“We’ll do that later. Let’s go see your art, dudette.”
“Um…okay, sure why not.” You said and you guys went to your house.
You were a little nervous. You were very private about your art. It means a lot to you; you were never the one to brag about it to others. It was just your secret little world.
You made it to your house and you led him to your bedroom, which felt a little awkward.
“Holy crap!” Alfred shouted.
Your artwork was neatly framed on your walls and a several unfinished works were still on your desk.
“(y/n)! You’re amazing!” he said loudly as he looked at a certain piece.
“Shut up.” You said embarrassed.
“No you shut up! (y/n), how come you never told me?” he asked turning to you.
You shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just something that I always kept to myself.”
“Dudette you are going to be famous!”
“Yeah that would be nice, now can we play the game?”
“Oh yeah I forgot! Let’s go.”
You guys spent all day playing that game. Eating junk food and joking around; you were so happy.
END OF FLASHBACK:
You took your seat in back of the classroom as usual; nobody ever wanted to sit with you. You didn’t mind really, well, you did but you had your own little table to yourself. The other larger tables were taken by groups of students sitting with their friends.
“Hey there, fatass.”
You winced at the sound of his voice. You looked up and saw Alfred with that sadistic smirk. You rolled your eyes and turned back around. You gasped when you felt yourself being lifted from your seat and saw an irritated looking Alfred.
“Don’t ignore me you worthless little bitch.” He spat.
“Let go of me, Alfred.” You said trying to look annoyed but inside you were terrified.
He scoffed and threw you down on the floor and harshly and kicked you in the stomach. Your eyes were closed but you heard his friends laughing and cheering him on. Everyone else was either laughing along or just ignoring you, not wanting to get involved.
‘Why of all days does the teacher have to be late today?’ you thought.
He kneeled down next to you and grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked to up so you look at him. This wasn’t Alfred. This was a monster.
“What are you gonna cry now? You are a pathetic waste of life.” He whispered the last part and pushed you aside and went back to his group who were still laughing and giving him high-fives. You were still on the ground when the teacher walked in.
“(y/n), what happen to you?” your teacher asked emotionlessly.
“I-I fell.” You squeaked.
You didn’t dare tell what really happened. The last time you did you ended up with several bruises. You sat back in your seat and glanced over at Alfred who winked at you. You turned back to your work and put your earphones on listening to your favorite song, trying to ignore the pain on your body and in your heart.
‘What happen to you, Alfred? What happened to us?’
So many questions raced through your mind. You didn’t know how long you could take this; you were slowly dying inside, losing faith in everybody and in life. You didn’t really have anybody to talk to. Your parents were almost never home, and when they were they always argued about all the bills that were coming in. You felt that if you told them you would only cause more trouble.
They only person you used to talk to was Alfred. When your parent’s fights were getting too much, he always welcomed you to his house and knew how to cheer you up. Now that you were alone you didn’t know how to cope with it.
Class was finally over and you packed your things away quickly. You made it out of the classroom in time, but when you turned the corner of the hallway you found yourself pinned against the wall by Alfred and his goons.
“Hello again, fatass.” he smirked.
“Leave me alone!” you yelped.
You were met with a harsh slap to the face.
“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch!”
He took off your bag and threw it to the side. He suddenly punched your gut and swiftly threw you to the ground. The other boys were simply watched as Alfred abused the helpless girl. He kicked you in the side so you lying on your back. He straddled you to hold you down and was about to punch you in the face.
“Alfred!” you cried helplessly.
Something clicked in his mind when he saw your face. Your eyes were buffy from the tears and a dark red spot on the side of your face from when he struck you; your body defenseless and terrified underneath him. He quickly got off you.
“HEY! WHATS GOING ON HERE?!” A teacher shouted from the distance.
The boys cursed and ran away leaving Alfred. Without looking at him, you grabbed your bag and ran out of the building, sobbing uncontrollably.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Alfred asked himself.
When you arrived at your house you closed the door and collapsed on the floor. You continued to cry harder than you ever had. You were shaking and breathing unevenly. After a moment you took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.
You weren’t sad anymore; you were enraged. You felt yourself filled with hate and fury, something you weren’t used to expressing. Sure you got mad and irritated, but this… something changed in you. You could almost feel your heart shattering and your mind snapping.
You went to your room and looked at all your artwork. You picked up one of your drawings.
Alfred sat on the floor of his room, alone and overwhelmed with guilt and hatred at himself. Looking back at all of the things he did to you, all of the pain he caused you. He was scared of the monster he became.
He didn’t know why he did it. It was like he was infected with a virus that made him hurt and break the one person he loved.
“I’m sorry, (y/n)…” he said to the air.
He didn’t know what to do. How could he apologize for something like this? He looked down at his old 8th grade yearbook. He opened the first page where (y/n) wrote.
Don’t worry I’m not gonna write a whole freakin page like some people do so I’m gonna keep this short and sweat. OMG! We’re gonna be high schoolers dude! We better make the next 4 years truly badass! Anyway, you are the bestest friend I ever had and I’m so glad I met you first that day. You are always there for me when I need you; promise me you won’t ever change. I love you so much.
He felt tears streaming down his face, landing on the page that you wrote on. He lightly touched the words that you wrote years ago. I love you so much.
He closed the book, unable to look at it anymore. He knew he messed up, more than messed up. He crushed you. When he saw you cry like that, it pained him to see that. When he realized it was him who caused this it killed him inside. He had to make it right again, somehow.
He rubbed the tears away from his face and grabbed his car keys.
TIME SKIP: AT YOUR HOUSE:
“(y/n)?” He called as he knocked on the front door.
There was no answer. He knocked again, louder.
“(y/n)? Please open the door.”
There was still no answer. He opened the door and stepped inside her house. It was dead silent. He hadn’t been in this house for years. It brought back so many pleasant memories of them together, but it only crushed him more.
“(y/n)?” he called again.
He headed to your room; the door was slightly open. He opened the door all the way and his heart sank at the sigh before him.
All of your beautiful artwork, sketches and everything was on the floor torn to pieces. Frames were shattered beyond repair. Canvases were broken in half and ripped.
“Oh god, (y/n)…” he sobbed.
He stepped further into the wrecked room, careful not to step on anything. He noticed something untouched on the desk. It was the same old sketchbook he first saw, next to the book was an old picture of them together at the mall, hugging.
He gulped trying to remember that day, but he still needed to find you.
“(y/n), where are you?” he said to himself.
He then remembered that special place where they used to go, the abandoned park. He ran out of the house and got into his car.
TIME SKIP: AT THE PARK:
You were currently lying down on the soft grass looking up at the sky. You looked over at the empty space next to you. The last time you were here, Alfred was with you.
You calmed down a bit since you got a lot of your anger out when you destroyed all of your artwork earlier. You just didn’t care anymore. You wish you could just stay here forever, not have to deal with being hurt or afraid to live.
Your eyes open at the sound of your name. You sat up and turned your head and saw Alfred standing there. You scoff and lay back down on the grass.
“Come back to finish what you started?” you asked not really caring if he was here to hurt you.
“N-no…” he stuttered. “(y/n), I have no excuse for what I’ve done to you. I came here to tell you-“
You quickly stood up and approached him, cutting him off.
“To tell me what? Your sorry?” you mocked.
All he could do was nod.
“Look at this…” you said as you lifted your shirt to show your belly that was covered with scars and fresh bruises, all were caused by him.
“Look at what you did to me!” you raised your voice.
He winced and forced himself to look at what he did to her. You pulled your shirt back down at looked at him angrily.
“Look Alfred, if you didn’t want to be friends anymore you could’ve just told me and leave me be! What the fuck did I do to you that made you want to hurt me every day? Now thanks to you everybody hates me! Thanks to you I’ll have these fuckin scars for the rest of my worthless life.”
By now you had tears streaming down your face. You were breathing heavily and you collapsed on the ground.
“(y/n)…” he whispered as he came over to help you.
You waved him off.
“Stay the hell away from me.” You breathed out as you got up.
“Please (y/n), just listen to me, please.” He said desperately.
You crossed your arms and looked down at the ground, not really wanting what he had to say but listen anyway.
“I-I can’t tell you just how sorry I am for causing you all this pain. I really don’t know what happen to me, I just…” he began to choke on his words.
“What I…what we had was real and it was right. And I…I killed it, please forgive me.”
You heard him let out a quiet sob. You were still looking at the ground, but you knew he was crying.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself, but I need to tell you that I’m sorry and I…I love you.”
You looked up at him, taken aback at his words. You didn’t know what to do. He sounded like he was really true and remorseful for what he did. Part of you wanted to run into his arms and cry into his chest, but you also felt that your bond with him was too far shattered.
You shook your head and clenched your fists.
“No…Alfred.” You said quietly.
“W-what?” he stuttered.
“Alfred…I love you and I always will, but I c-cant. I can’t trust you.” You said looking away.
“Please, (y/n)…w-what do I have to do? J-just tell me what to do a-and we can go back how it used to be. Just…please.” He said desperately.
You looked up at him and saw tear streaks on his face. You wished it was that simple, to just forget all that has happened and walk away together best friends again. You would love to have that life again, but you knew it would never be the same. Your feelings had changed for him. You couldn’t look at him the same again; all you see when you look at him was the person who caused you so much pain over the years. Even if you did forgive him your feelings would be fake, and you knew that was not fair for you or for Alfred.
You shook your head again.
“Alfred…I can’t ever forget what you did to me. I think it will be for the best if we just part ways and move on with our lives.”
“Oh…n-no, please, (y/n). I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please give me another chance!”
“Goodbye, Alfred Jones.” You said calmly and walked past him.
You didn’t want to hurt him, you didn’t want revenge. You meant it when you said you loved him, but you knew deep in your heart that this was truly for the best for both of you. You also knew that you will never forget your first, last, and best friend; Alfred F. Jones.