My Sweet Boy

Promise

⠀

PROMISE
⠀⎯♡ "Then have you heard of a girl who goes by Verena?"

Verena.

H/n is stunned as Florian namedrops his dead girlfriend. "How the fuck does he know that name?" That is all your boyfriend can think of as his heartbeat increases.

Anxiety grips his throat as he is unable to provide an answer for the man before him. He hadn't any time to prepare any lies. No way to slyly deflect this horrific surprise, what is he to do? His eye twitches as his nails concernably dig into the oak table.

He has already slipped up once, a second time will be far too suspicious. He feels the need to reach across the table and slit Florian's throat with the knife provided to him.

But that moment never comes.

H/n's feet carry him fastly out of the suffocating atmosphere and to the midnight air.

"H/n!" You yell after him surprised by the sudden departure.

"Oh my," Florian mutters as he feigns ignorance. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me."

"I'm sure he forgot something, I will text him," you nervously laugh it off as your mother stares at you her gaze holding nothing but worry and surprise for the young boy.

"Well, I guess it's time to wrap things up anyway. Florian dear, I enjoyed your company. You are a wonderful young man," your mother comes around to collect dishes.

"Come on, I will walk you out," you nervously smile as you stretch your legs.

"Alright then," Florian follows your lead.

You slip on some easy shoes as your guest gets his belongings and slips his arms through his coat. You swing your front door open ready to bid the man goodbye when he suddenly stops walking forward.

"Y/n." He suddenly mutters your name into the night air.

"Oh yes?" You respond stuttering slightly as you are caught off guard.

"As I promised, I have something to tell you. I admit I held it back because I didn't want to put a halt in your grieving process by telling you something. But again it's not my decision to make for you," he twists his body to face yours.

"What is it?" You ask beginning to become impatient.

"The last thing our dearly departed friend told me about... you," he speaks slowly.

He sees your eager expression and begins to keep his promise. "It had been a while since Chelsea and I had spoken. We were on the phone and I could see that she was upset. When I asked her why she was upset, she answered that one of her friends got into an argument with her. She regretted something she had said. She was worried she would lose one of her dearest friends and wanted them to answer her texts. Someone who would ignore her faults, and who was so trusting and believed in her. She loved you so much. To be honest, I was jealous," he sneaks a chuckle in. "But I now see what she saw, a beautiful young woman."

For some reason, your body betrays your wishes and the salty liquid escapes you. You don't even realize how much grief you had been storing within you until now.

"There, there," the taller man pats your head in order to console you.

A few moments pass as he gives you some time to let everything out and regain your composure. "Hey, next time, dinner is on me. And perhaps I will introduce you to a certain someone dear to me."

"I look forward to it," you bid him goodbye as you wipe away the few tears you have left.