𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

23 || Replaceable

Edited: 08.22.2022

Song: Madison Beer - Dead (slowed)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Giana

The only perk to crying yourself to sleep is the blissful sleep that comes after you've drained your eyes of all the tears.

It's like your mind has finally given out, your thoughts all poured out leaving you to sleep peacefully.

Which was why when I woke the next morning with flushed cheeks, a puffy face, bloodshot eyes and a dry throat, I didn't complain for I had a delightful slumber.

I was effectively knocked the fuck out - in the best way possible.

I'd locked myself in my room after the screaming match I'd endured with Alessio and refused to leave.

It'd been two days.

And I'd spent those two days locked in my bedroom, ignoring everyone's attempts at trying to get me to come out, eat, talk or anything.

Liam had spent a good amount of time profusely apologising the night of - drunk I might add. But I wasn't ready to forgive him. I'd told him beforehand to make sure Alessio was coming, only to have him brush me off, telling me that 'he's got it'.

Come to find out he left for the club not thirty minutes later, completely forgetting about what I wanted.

But even he eventually gave up trying, along with the other men.

Except for Alessio.

I don't know how long he stayed outside my door, apologising and trying to get me to eat or come out. But I didn't listen and relished in the knowledge that I was making his life miserable, even if it was just a little.

I hadn't spoken to him, not once. Yet the man was adamant on standing on the other side of my door.

He was there in the mornings, taking his business calls, he was there at lunch trying to get me to eat and he was there in the evening, speaking lowly into what I presumed was his phone, only they were on the more explicitly dark side of business calls.

He'd only leave late at night, when he'd figure I was asleep and in that time, Marco would slip me a snack or a meal.

And by the second day, I start to feel guilty for taking up so much of his time, so guilty I'm scared I'm going to forgive him.

But I wouldn't.

I was annoyed with him and his mood swings. Sure I may have said some hurtful things that I might not have meant, but I was hurt and angry.

I wasn't dumb.

When he called me dumb, it hurt. It hurt more than I liked to admit. I wasn't dumb and even though he spent a good chuck of time these past forty eight hours, on the other side of my door trying to tell me he didn't mean it, I still didn't believe him.

Why was it so easy for him to bring up if it had never crossed his mind in the first place?

He had used something I've been insecure about against me, to spite me and I wasn't ready to forgive him for that.