Mayans/SOA x reader one-shots

Hate Me - Bishop Losa

Inspired by the song Hate Me by Blue October.

Walking with your head down along the Santo Padre streets was the only way to survive. To look up and see the places you used to shop and the restaurants you used to dine in was too much for your heart to bear. The memories would assault you, driving the dagger deeper into your chest until you thought you would die.

Walking with your head down along the Santo Padre streets was what kept you from seeing him. You didn't notice his motorcycle that you used to ride with him parked in front of the cafe that he used to take you to. If you did see him, you didn't know what you would do. He wanted you to hate him but that was something you just weren't able to do. At least if you hated him you wouldn't still love him.

Bishop looked up from his coffee after pouring a sneaky cap of whiskey into the mug from his flask. Slipping the metal container back in his kutte he saw you walking along the sidewalk with your head down. His mind called out to you, begging you to look up so he could see your eyes again. Would he still get lost in them like he used to? Or would they be hardened with disappointment and hate if they looked at him?

Bringing his mug up to his lips he tasted the sweet drink and felt the alcohol burn as he swallowed. For the first time in months the taste was no longer satisfying, not after seeing what he was actually craving a taste of. Leaving the mug still full he got up and left the cafe he came to every Sunday hoping you would come back here and order the waffles like you always did.

He sat on his motorcycle and watched as your figure retreated and blurred in the heatwaves that rolled off the pavement. It felt like yesterday that he had watched you walk away and take his advice not to return, not to love him. Sparking up a cigarette he inhaled deeply and reached into his kutte for the flask. Before he could think too much he poured the liquor into the drain he was parked beside and watched it stain the concrete.

When the last drop of alcohol fell from the flask he threw the tin as far as he could across the street, ignoring the worried looks of those passing by. He knew he was relying on alcohol to heal the gaping wound you left behind but it was alcohol that created the problem to start with. It was his alcoholism that pushed you away and in the end he knew you were better off without him.

"Hate me today, hate me tomorrow, hate me so you can finally see what's good for you." Those were his last words to you.

You heard the rumble of a motorcycle approaching, the rumble of his motorcycle. Don't look, don't look, don't look. You kept your eyes down as the sound passed you but you couldn't keep your eyes away for long. You looked up to see him sitting on a new seat that was no longer a double. Tears pricked your eyes at the small change and you caught his own eyes in the small mirror facing you.

"How could you do this to me?" You asked in a whisper knowing you would never get an answer.