Repeated Dreams (John Laurens X Reader) (Modern)

10

Johns POV

I felt tears roll down my face as Alex and I sat in complete silence. There was no point in trying to check on Y/n because the door was locked and why would she let any of us in?

My heart felt like it was glass that was thrown against the floor and shattered into millions of tiny, sharp pieces. Guilt felt like it was drowning me. I felt awful.

Alex shouldn't be here anymore.. he needs to leave. I thought to myself as warm tears continued to gush out of my eyes.

"Alex, y-you need to leave." I told him.

Alex nodded and got up, walking out of the dorm in complete silence.

It was all just silence after that for a long amount of time. The tears didn't stop rolling down my face. I just began to cry harder. My eyes were red and puffy from crying.. they hurt. But, they didn't hurt as much as my heart did.

This was all my fault. I should not have kissed back. It's just that Alex's soft lips being pressed against mine felt so good.. Good yet wrong. I feel so guilty and broken now.

I can't even imagine how Y/n feels. We both believed we didn't love each other but.. we both know that wasn't true! We kissed. When we kissed, Y/n kissed back. That kiss didn't feel like the one I had with Alex.

The kiss with Y/n felt genuine. It was genuine. It was love.

But I broke it. I broke the love.

By breaking the love I also broke Y/n and myself.

I curled up into a tight ball on the couch and cried more. The tears that fell down my face seemed to be endless. My curly hair had came out of the ponytail and now messily hung over my shoulders.

Eventually I moved out of the weird, curled up position I was in and went to the kitchen. Instead of getting a drink or some food, I opened the silverware drawer and looked down at the several knives that were in it.

All of the knives were sharp. Light bounced off of the shiny metal on the knife. I heard voices in my head.

This can help you..

..Pick up the knife, John.

It's here for you.

The voices repeated words along those lines before I finally picked up a knife and held it to my arm.

I hesitated.

A new voice seemed to speak to me.

Stop, John. This won't help you.

And so I set the knife down.

I stared at the knife for a while before walking away from it, leaving it sitting on the kitchen counter instead of in the drawer it was originally in.

I sighed and walked back to the couch, curling back into a ball and crying.