TW: Drinking + Smoking, Mental Illness, Death/Offing Urself, Implied OD, Graveyards, Bad Grammar/Not Proofread
A/N: This is my first Måneskin fic so I'm sorry if anything is wrong. Most of the Italian is translated because I'm not that good at it yet </3 If anything in the TW's trigger you, please don't read. I would rather lose a like or a read than make someone read something that will be harmful to them. I wrote this to make me feel better, so I don't want you to feel bad from reading it. Thank you.
Word Count: 3,500+
Thomas Raggi x Female Reader
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You run out of class right when the bell rings, making sure to leave first. You don't even care that the teacher is yelling, you just want to get out of that hell hole.
You keep running until your body can't take it. You just want to break down, but you can't. You have to hold it in until you get home. Just hold it in.
You're relieved to find that none of your friends were home. If they saw you like this, they would be so worried about you. You don't want to be a burden. They've done so much for you, and they're always busy with the band, so watching after you would put so much more on their plate.
You walk over to the armchair and just sit there, tears threatening to fall. You're trying not to cry, because your eyes always get puffy after crying and they'll obviously notice. Your phone interrupted you, though, and you reluctantly pick it up. It was your boyfriend, Thomas.
- Thomas The Train 🚂: did u get home from school yet tesoro
- You: just got home amore <3
- Thomas The Train 🚂: that's good, me and the gang are gonna be back in a bit
- Thomas The Train 🚂: just had to pick some stuff up
- You: I can't wait to see what you bring back. ti amo
- Thomas The Train 🚂: ti amo
You almost close your phone, but your fingers take you to the next page of your home screen and end up clicking on Instagram. You know you shouldn't look at it, but you can't help it.
The comments have gotten worse than before. Below a selfie you and Vic took together people are saying things like "Who is that ugly girl next to Vic?" or "Vic: ❤️❤️❤️ | Thomas's GF: 🤮🤮" There was some good comments, but most of them were just making fun of you. They were worse on pictures of just yourself.
You couldn't take it. You never asked Thomas to love you. You never asked to be friends with the band. You never asked for any of this. It's not like people were nicer before. People always made fun of you.
You didn't know how to stop them. You didn't know how. It's like your head was a yearbook without the fake happiness. You pick your phone up and click on Find My. They're 4 miles away. That's enough time. You grab a piece of paper, scribbling down a quick note.
You walk to the bathroom, not wanting to make a lot of noise. You don't even now why, you're alone. You keep staring at yourself, hating everything about it. You just want to escape. You just can't take it.
You bend down and open the cabinet. You eye the item you desire, quickly picking it up. You hope Victoria doesn't mind you're borrowing it. That little voice in your head won't shut up. It keeps beckoning you. Nothing seems right except listening to it.
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Thomas walked into the house, helping carry some of the bags the four of them got from the store. I can't wait to show Y/N. He thought. She'll love them.
