Totally Dramatic (Duncan x Reader)

Make Your Choice.

   As I laid in my new trailer bed that night, my thoughts were a scrambled mess. I went over what Chris had said almost twenty times in my mind, trying to find any lie or negativity to his words. But they were all the truth, and that's what seemed to hit me hardest.

What was worse, the betrayal that my mom had carried for so many years. The harsh words she'd spat about my father when I asked about him, the sour look that displayed upon her features when I was caught mentioning the word 'dad'. The look of disapproval when I'd come home one day about a family history project, wanting so badly to include both my parents. She'd tried so hard to keep Chris out of my life, all because she didn't support him following a dream.

Of course, that didn't make him any better. People could get over-fixated with something, force every thought and emotion to be specifically about a given thing, but that didn't sound like Chris. He sounded like a man juggling a work and family balance, wanting to pursue a passion like anyone would. It was why, despite my efforts, I couldn't come to hate the man like my mother had wanted. Knowing the story, the heartbreak and sadness he'd experienced, it made me sympathise with him. It made me want to get to know that side of me, the side that my dad would've raised.

I tossed onto my side, gaze resting on the floor beside me. I'd been given a trailer for the next few days, while the last remaining contestants wrapped up filming. I hadn't mentioned Duncan to Chris, but I knew that he probably already had an idea. It was looking like I wasn't going to be seeing any of my friends anytime soon, which left me to dwell in my thoughts; a dangerous habit.

I'd been given my phone, seeing numerous phone calls and texts roaming from my mother, brother, and friends from school. Pulling the device towards me, I glanced through the notifications that I'd been putting off the whole day.

Text from 'Mom' : [Y/N]?! Answer your phone NOW.

Text from 'Designated driver' : mom's mad at you. and me. she's talking lawsuits and shit.

Text from 'El' : OMG!! u and that guy?! spill the deets

Text from 'Designated driver' : proud of you for doing this. don't listen to mom. something fishy's going on.

If only he knew the half of it. Finger continued to flick through the notifications, some repeating the same as others, particularly my mom and her whole 'come home' texts. I tossed my phone beside me, hands moving up to rub my eyes. The whole situation was a mess, one that seemed to be out of my control. It was probably best to enjoy the last remaining days I had here, before I had to go face everything I'd come to know.

I sat on the dock I'd arrived from, watching the water splash against the wooden beams that supported my weight. I hadn't had the chance to speak to Chris for a solid two days, ever since we'd sat down and discussed what would happen with mom. I felt horrible, having no one to speak to about the matter. A huff of air escaped my lips, standing up and making my way back towards proper land. My life was beginning to feel like a book, being written with twists and turns and things people would expect but still didn't. I didn't know the ending; nobody did. Would mom fight dad over my choice? What about my friends? Would everyone treat me differently?

No, I refused to tell them. It would be a secret for myself and myself only - Bridgette and Duncan being the exceptions. Just the thought of them cemented a frown on my lips. Boy, did I miss them. I missed everyone. Even Heather and her bitchy attitude. I'd grown to care about the people in the camp, the people who were my family. Thoughts circulating in my mind, I'd nearly completely ignored Chef barrelling towards me, until he was dragging me by the arm and back to the dock.

"Finals day, soldier. We're headin' back." Chef pulled me onto the boat before I could get a word out, already pulling the boat away from the dock.

"Now it's time to welcome the twenty campers who did not make it to the finals." Chris exclaimed as I slipped amongst the group, attempting to squeeze my way through to someone I actually was friends with. "Would everyone who's walked the Dock of Shame and left camp on the Boat of Losers kindly take a seat in the Peanut Gallery of Failure? The side you choose should represent who you would like to cheer on to victory in today's final competition." I attempted to pay attention, but a surfer blonde pulled my attention away, and into a tight hug.