𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐰?✔[COMPLETED]

C H 1 : Reason?

(RosemaryLilliane, my twin sister wanted this. I'll give her what she wants.)

** Third Person's P.O.V **

During the Christmas Party, Palette was looking a little glum to say the least. He didn't look very happy. Before the Christmas party started. Goth was either glaring at him when he turned his back, or somewhere else. It was strange and saddening. Palette received a couple gifts from his friends but none from Goth. Palette doesn't even know the reason why Goth was doing those things, is it out of pure hate? He doesn't know at all, he's been acting like this ever since he step foot on the library.

After everyone had gone home, he stayed back to help and clean up like a good person he is. He picked up the bottles, cans, cups, whatever trash he found lying around. He then threw the trash on the trashbag he was carrying along with him. Once they cleaned up, they arranged the chairs and tables all by themselves because PJ was being an idiot and got really drunk. He passed out on their bed, and Fresh aint sleeping with him. He said the next morning he wakes up, he's letting him sleep on the couch.

After the heavy duty work, they took a break. So they sat on the couch, watching TV late at night. "So, do you know why, Goth, uh, hates me?" Palette asked out of the blue. Fresh gave him a questioning look, as if he didn't know that Goth didn't like him. "Uh, I'm not supposed to tell you this." Fresh admitted. Goth is gonna kill him.

"What is it?"

"It's true, he doesn't actually like you." Fresh admitted, cutting out the 'Why he doesn't like him' part. It's gonna expose Goth and if Palette confronts him about it, he's dead meat-bones. "Why?" Palette asked once more, Fresh shrugged, pretending he doesn't know why. Palette sighed, knowing that Fresh actually knows and that he's a bad liar.

"I don't care anymore. If he knows I had feelings for him ever since I started high school with him, I could careless if I'm just a friend to him." Palette, gave in. It's been like this all the time, Palette is too scared to step foot in the library, he always asks someone who's been there if Goth is around or not. He's just scared to meet him, see him or anything. He knows the familiar glare Goth gives him. It has so much hatred.

"Night, Fresh. I'll be heading home." Palette stood up and walked to the door. "Wait! Let me drive you home." Fresh suggested. He didn't want Palette to get murdered out there, since it's really dark out and it's in the middle of the night. Palette reluctantly agreed.

They hopped on Fresh's car and drove towards Palette's house. "Thanks for the ride." Palette said, Fresh gave him a nod and he drove off back to his house. Palette opened the door which was surprisingly unlocked. he tiptoed to his room without a sound.

He quickly snatched his journal from his bedside table and began writing and pouring his feelings out under the dim light. He wrote and wrote what he felt, the agonizing pain he felt whenever Goth passed by, whenever it happens when Goth just randomly comes around and bumps into him.

He wrote how completely lovestruck he was when met Goth for the first time. It was like true love just shot right at his chest where his heart would be. Only to end up breaking because your true love doesn't love you back. Oh how he hated the feeling of Goth's glare somewhere around the campus and it made him paranoid to the point he always looked down, he didn't want to see the faces of his collegues and peers. He just couldn't.

Once he finished pouring his feelings down, he stopped writing and placed the journal and pen on the bedside table beside him. He could feel his tear-stained bony cheek freeze. He wiped the frozen tears on his cheeks as he slipped into bed. Lifted the covers over his head. Crying himself to sleep.

I walked this journey all the way to you,
Yet you don't love me like I do.
If I knew I your reason to hate me from the start, maybe if I knew that it wouldn't break my heart.
That I have fallen for you, just us the perfect two.
I have waited for so long, and now I'm thinking of how wrong,
It is to love someone who doesn't love you back.
Maybe if I move on, I'd be just fine, it wouldn't be the same if a broken metronome counts at the wrong time.

Maybe I should let go-yet...

I still love you.