Ryan Ross Imagines

Smol Imagine #13

She slid down the wall in her bedroom, holding the bottle of liquid courage in-between her fingers. Her eyes were red from crying, and her body was thinner than usual from not eating.

She heard a knock on her door, but ignored it, feeling particularly bitter as she took another sip of the amber colored liquid.

"Y/n, baby, are you okay?" She heard Ryan's voice now, right outside the bedroom door. She knew he had a key, and now she was kind of regretting giving him one.

"Fuck off," she murmured in the nicest way possible.

"No. What's wrong with you?" He asked, opening her door. "You haven't talked to me in forever." He kneeled down next to her on the ground, pulling the bottle out of her hands.

"No! Give it back, Ryan!" She shrieked, reaching out for him. He pushed her away gently, and set the bottle on her dresser.

"What's wrong, Y/n? Please tell me," he pleaded, looking into her eyes. She shook her head, looking away from him and at the floor.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she mumbled.

"No you're not. You're sitting here, getting drunk, for what reason?" He asked, trying to keep his temper from flaring.

"Because I don't care anymore! I don't give a shit about anything! I want to die, okay?" She whispered the last part, but he heard her.

"Why do you want to die, princess?" He asked, pushing some hair out of her face.

She shrugged, "I don't know. Just feel like it." He sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch.

"I know what you mean. But, just...don't drink. It doesn't help, princess." She nodded, taking his hand in hers, and he kissed her cheek.

"Come on, let's get some sleep. It's late," he mumbled, grabbing her hand and helping her up. They laid down on her bed, awkwardly shifting until they found a comfortable position and fell asleep.