a/n: tw!! mentions of silverware in places they should not be (violent)
"wondering if you knew."
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walker's pov:
you know, the worst part isn't that she wrote a diss track about me. it's that it isn't really a diss track. i mean, she said it herself during an interview yesterday. right after she refused to say who it was about. giving nothing but a secretive smile and a twinkle in her eye. i hate myself for what i said. normally, i would say that she's overreacting, but i think it's something else. something deeper. something she probably hasn't ever told anyone. something she could've told me, before i ruined everything. i pat some mousse into my curls. tonight is the night. february fourteenth. valentine's day. now officially my least favorite day of the year. it's also the night i'm going to apologize to y/n. i'm going to make it up to her. i'm going to prove how wrong we both are about me. with my luck i'll end up with a fork through the eye or something spectacularly gruesome like that. i squint my eyes at myself in the mirror. is my appearance socially acceptable today or should i skip. a tempting proposition.
"almost ready to go?" leah pops her head into the doorway.
"do my curls look right?"
"how would your curls even look wrong?" leah says, rolling up the sleeves of her dress, so she can address my hair.
she puts some product onto her hands and uses it to fix a couple remaining out of place curls that i had missed.
"there," she says.
she turns around to wash her hands in the sink.
"leah?"
"yes walker?"
"do you think she'll forgive me?"
"i'm going to give you the same exact answer i gave you when you asked me that twenty minutes ago, yes. i think she will. i don't know her personally, but from what dior has been telling me, i think you hurt her and i think she needed time to heal... i mean her song is a bop though..."
i swat her, "how is it possible to be simultaneously helpful and unhelpful at the same time?"
she giggles, "i don't know, you're better equipped to answer that question than me."
i roll my eyes at her back as she leaves. i adjust my suit, fixing the pink tie around my neck, so it doesn't strangle me. i give myself one last look in the mirror, before heading out to the car. charlie is driving and as per usual, he's blasting 1989 through the car speakers.
