the roommate → brad simpson | ✓

eighteen - "its just a coping mechanism"

I wipe away a tear I didn't know had fallen, that I didn't want to fall, off of my cheek as I sit down on my bed, him opposite me.

"Please don't cry," he says softly and I shake my head to clear my thoughts. "I'm not worth crying over."

I laugh at that, "damn right you're not. But you're so fucking confusing, you mess up my brain and my emotions. You're so nice to me and make me feel like I'm worth something to at least someone and then you insult me and make me feel horrible and then you kiss me and mess with my head and suddenly you've got your hands in some other girl's pants."

He stays silent, waiting for me to say something else.

"We're not boyfriend and girlfriend and I'm not expecting you to be staying away from girls," I clarify, wiping away more tears as I let out a sniffle. "But don't claim that you wanna kiss only me and then get with another girl straight after. It's leading me on and I don't want to start getting feelings for someone who's just using me."

"I just. . ." He starts but he pauses as I sniff, so he gets off of his bed and sits next to me on mine, the mattress dipping. He wipes away my tears with his thumb. "I'm sorry, okay? Please stop crying, you're too beautiful to be crying."

My heart skips a beat but I remember that I'm supposed to be mad at him for being a dick, not accepting compliments off of him.

"I've never been good with expressing my emotions," he explains. "Ever since I was younger I would hide my feelings so I was always this shy person and I wouldn't let people into my life because I didn't know how to act."

I look at his eyes that turn sad as he thinks of a memory and I move closer to him, putting an arm around his torso and resting my head on his shoulder. This was the most I've ever learnt about Brad's past.

"When I was younger, I never had a relationship with my parents," he says and I grab his hand, running my hand over his knuckles softly. "They were always arguing and they never paid attention to me so I only had myself. I couldn't talk about how I feel and I guess that's why I'm so closed up. When I got older and older the only way I could get my emotions out was when I got with girls because I'd just put all my anger into it."

He paused again, looking down at me but I kept my eyes trained on my hand that was holding his.

"I've never been in a relationship," He says, one of his hands moving up to my hair, running his hand through it. "I don't know what commitment is because I've never committed to anything before. Relationships are completely new to me because I never wanted one after seeing what my parents grew up like. So I'm trying to be honest with you but I'm so controlled by my bad habits that I get with other girls. Whatever I say to you, I mean it. One hundred and eleven percent of it. The girls I get with mean nothing, it's just a coping mechanism."

My eyes soften as a single teardrop falls from his eye and my hand quickly moves from his hand to wipe it off of his cheek. He closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh.

Brad was just a broken boy who didn't know what he was doing with his life.

"So I really am sorry," he concludes. "You're getting hurt because I don't know how to control my emotions and you really don't deserve me because I'm just a mess."

"You're not a mess, Bradley," I shake my head lifting my head off of his shoulder to look up at him. "You're amazing and funny and a pain in my ass."

He chuckles, wiping his face as a few more tears fall, "you're a pain in my ass, too, Mango."

"My name is still Margo," I correct him and he smiles over at me, it was nice to see him smile after he'd just cried.

"I know but I like annoying you," he admits and his phone starts ringing. He sighs and gets off of my bed, unplugging his phone from the charger cable and answers it. "Hello?"

I hear a squeaking on the other end of the phone.

"I'll be over in twenty minutes," he rolls his eyes and ends the call, shoving his phone in his pocket with another sigh as he puts on his shoes. "I've got to go out and meet my mates. I'll be back late, don't wait up for me."

"I wasn't planning on it."

♡

"Hey, mum!" I smile at the laptop screen on my lap as she readjusts her camera, smiling back at me. She was sat at the desk in her room, Daniel on her left and Carl on her right.

Carl was my stepdad, and had married my mum after knowing her for two weeks. He had helped out a lot financially since he owns a car repairing company of his own and it was very successful.

"Hey sweetheart," she finally replies. "Where's your roommate?"

"He's out tonight," I shrug. Brad had left two hours ago and my mum wanted to Skype. "He's with his friends."

"At least he has them," Daniel teases me and I give him the finger. He didn't know that Britt and I had argued, none of them did. "I'm only kidding, midget."

"I'm not a midget," I scowl at him. "I'm five foot one."

"Exactly. A midget," he chuckles and I roll my eyes. He had my father's tall genes and was almost six foot two.

"How's university going?" Carl changes the subject as he smiles over to me. He was young, just like my mother, and looked a lot like Chris Evans.

"Well, I'm not failing so that's a start," I try and joke but my mum gives me a look. She wanted me to leave with top grades. "I see you guys in a couple weeks, that's the only thing getting me through all the hard essays."

"I'm sure they're not that hard," Daniel scoffs and I give him a challenging look. "You're doing fashion, not medicine. All you've got to write about is what colour goes well with what."

"I'll let you write my next piece then, shall I?" I raise my eyebrows at him. "You'll probably cry at how hard it is."

"Only because I don't understand any of it," he defends himself, and I let out a small laugh.

"Have you met any cute boys?" My mum asks before Dan and I start arguing. My face probably went pale at the thought of boys since I had enough male related drama for a lifetime.

"Nope," I lie convincingly. "I thought guys were meant to be cute in university, not pretensions and gross."

"Welcome to the real world, baby," my mum jokes and I let out a small laugh. "Not all boys are that bad, though. There's some nice ones, too. They're hard to find but they're real."

"I doubt that."

"I'm a nice guy," my brother disagrees. "So Mum's right."

"You're definitely not nice," I tease him and he flips me the middle finger. "I'm kidding! You're great, really—annoying, but great."

"When you come back in two weeks I'm going to behead you."

"Psh, I'd like to see you try," I joke and he laughs. After ten minutes of more talking, my mum's laptop runs out of battery and I put my own laptop away, laying in bed and deciding to get an early night of sleep.

I really hope my mum was right when she said that there are nice guys.

unedited.