Just Angst & Fluff

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[IMPORTANT: TW/CW for references of abuse and internalized ableism. Also if reading about someone having a detailed narc crash is triggering, I'd suggest maybe clicking off of this one. Stay safe, and take care <3]

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[Blixer's POV]

"You know, I tried to raise you well. But of course you had to betray your own family too, huh?! You're a fucking disgrace..."
...
Sweating, I woke up to find myself in tears. I heard my phone ringing, so I answered it without checking the caller ID since I was feeling overall shitty. Though, it was 8 am, who would be calling me this early? The only person who would've called me first thing in the morning would have to be-

...Cyan. Fuck. As if today couldn't get worse, of fucking COURSE my own motherfucking ex had to call me at this moment. I reluctantly answered, wondering what he wanted.

"What do you want now," I sighed. "it's been over a year since our breakup, just leave me alone already!"

"This... isn't about that. I wanted to check in to see if you're okay, but I guess what happened still hurts, huh." He genuinely sounded concerned; though I'm not an idiot. I knew he was being condescending. I mean, who would feel genuinely bad for me? He continued, "If you wanted to talk again, I'm he-"

"Shut. The fuck. Up. I'm about to fucking lose it on you. Stop fucking pitying me. That's what this is about, isn't it? How you think you're better than me just because of one fucking thing that happened, when everyone looked up to you because I somehow found a way to screw up my ENTIRE DAMN LIFE?! I can't believe you'd go THIS low, to think you actually cared about me, about ANYONE, I..." I can't fucking believe I cried, over the phone, to my own ex! Who the fuck is that shallow, as to treat me so... pathetically? "I FUCKING HATE YOU! NEVER. CALL. ME. AGAIN."

Hanging up, I chucked my phone across the room. I didn't care if it broke, hell, part of me wanted it to break! Do I really deserve anything nice in this life? I stayed in bed, sobbing into my pillows for what felt like hours.
Getting up half an hour later (or something, do you expect me to keep track of how long I had a mental breakdown for?), I was going to write down what happened in my diary. I only kept it after all these years because I always told myself that when this is all over, I'd watch it burn.
I went to grab it from under my bed, only to find it missing. "It couldn't've gone far..."

"January 12th, 5 pm. Finally broke up with that bitchface. 10 pm. I can't believe I'm crying about this. February 8th, 5 years before the aforementioned entry. Why am I not good enough for anyone, why can't I be perfect for once, why- And then it's just a bunch of 'why's. 37 times, to be exact."

I recognized that voice, and for a moment I was going to just lay there, face 3 ft deep in pillows, but I was terrified how someone got into my house.

The same voice continued to read my diary entries. "February 23rd. Someone please ki- Holy shit..."

"Who the fuck ARE you- Oh. Wait, Obscurity?! What the fuck are you doing in my house?!"

"I'm sorry about that. About... everything you've been through. If... if you need to talk, I can listen-"

"WHO THE FUCK ASKED?! NO ONE FUCKING CARES, OKAY? SO WHY DID YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN BREAK INTO MY HOUSE, READ MY DIARY UNANNOUNCED, AND THEN TRY TO GET ME TO SPILL MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD?! WHY DOES IT SUDDENLY MATTER TO YOU HOW I FEEL TO THE POINT WHERE YOU INVADE MY PRIVACY?!"

They sat on my floor, expressionless. Shit, did I do it again? Did I actually break the one person in the whole world who understood me?

I sighed. "Just... tell me why you're here, okay?"

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