Take A Shot For Me

Straight-Up

I pull into Dashie's driveway the following day. I had spent the night at Shanna's. Matt had been texting me all night, asking to see me, but Shanna had recently been through a rough break-up, so I had to comfort her. You know that saying: "Chicks before Dicks".

I end up calling Matt on my way over to Dashie's to tell him about the whole walking-in-on-a-beat-up-Dashie incident. I don't know why I'm telling him everything. I guess I'm just confused as to why Dashie seems to be so angry at me, and Matt seems like he'd be a good listener.

"Nah, that's messed up," Matt says. I can hear the anger in his voice. "He's taking advantage of your kindness, Y/N. He knows you'll come back to him no matter what, that's why he's acting like such an asshole. If I were him, I'd never take out my anger on you. Maybe he deserved it you know? Dumbass can't appreciate something great when it's right there in front of him."

"I have to go," I say, quickly ending the call.
My mouth falls open at the sight of the exterior of Dashie's home. Trash is strewn all across the yard, and eggs were thrown against the front door. Dashie is already at work, cleaning up.

"Don't push yourself too hard, okay?" I put a hand over my mouth and nose. The trash and eggs have begun to fester in the California sun.

Thirty minutes later, I hand him a water bottle. "Still don't wanna call the police?"

"Nope," he replies, shoving a pile of trash into a trash bag. "Ain't nothing I can't handle."

Later that day, I call Jesse. "Hey," I say once he picks up. "Has Charlie told you anything about what happened to him?"

"The day you found him?"

"Yeah," I say. "He won't talk to me about it."

"Well, he... he wouldn't want me to tell you."

"Jesse, please." I'm beginning to sound desperate. "He won't tell me anything. His house got trashed, he quit YouTube..."

"I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you," Jesse replies.

I burst into Dashie's living room. He's watching a scary movie. "What's going on? You'd better tell me, right now, or what ever we are is OVER!"

Dashie stands up, his eyes wide. "Whoa. What's wrong, BabyGirl?"

"Why did you quit? I know how much you love your fans, and how much you enjoy making videos, so why?"

"Wait," he says slowly, raising his hands and lowering his voice in an attempt to calm me. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw your Tweet." I cross my arms over my chest.

Dashie runs a hand down his face. "Shit... I'm sorr—"

"No—Everyone keeps saying they're sorry! Just be straight-up with me!" My voice breaks.

He reaches for me. When I pull away from him, he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"You wanna know why I did it? Becuse you're more important to me than any amount of subscribers!" He says, keeping his eyes locked on me. There's an intensity to his voice that I've never heard before.

"... I was stabbed. The person who attacked me knew about my channels, and even about you. He said he knew about our relationship, and that if I called the police, he'd come back to hurt you. He said if I uploaded any videos he'd kill me. He said I didn't deserve you. He said you'd be better off if I wasn't in your life. ...Maybe he's right. Maybe we should stop seeing each other."

I feel the tears I've been holding back slide down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands, and he is there. He wraps his arms around me, kissing my head. I feel terrible. I blew up like a crazy person and he was still trying to comfort me. I don't deserve him, do I?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." I blubber, soaking his shirt with my tears.

"It's alright," he murmurs. "As long as you're good, I'm good."