“i’m sick of being ‘the other girl/guy.’” – dorisi

sofuckingchuffed:

whisperingvictory:

Sonny sits at the kitchen table, gaze drifting between the beads of condensation rolling down the sides of his glass, and the last golden rays streaming through the window, long shadows cast on the pavement several stories below. 

He’s listening, silently, for the rattle of keys, the scrape of metal on metal, the click of the lock. It should be any minute now, and he’s torn, torn between what he knows he has to say and what he wants to do. He has a letter tucked into his pocket, and he knows the words should come from him, that he should say the things he wants to say aloud, that he owes that much to Mike. 

But Sonny’s not sure he can do it. He’s not sure that when Mike pushes through the door into the apartment that his resolve won’t crumble, that he’ll take one look at Mike’s face, the soft smile. The way that Mike looks at him just somehow seeps into his soul, warms him up from the inside out. And that’s why it’s so hard to do this, because face to face he knows he’ll see the stinging hurt, the pain in Mike’s eyes, and Sonny doesn’t want to do that to him. 

But he can’t keep doing this. 

Sonny’s still staring out the window when he hears the lock, and his hand tightens around the half drunk, warming pint of beer he’d poured earlier for courage, or solace. He can’t bring himself to look over. 

“Hey,” Mike murmurs as he walks over, “you okay?” 

Sonny can’t meet his eyes, “you got a package, from Alice.” Sonny nods towards the kitchen counter, and he didn’t open it, didn’t look inside, but they both know what it is, both know that Alice sends one every month, a collection of Mike’s favorite things, candies and chips, a new video game, a new tie, whatever little things she’d seen and thought of him. 

“Sonny,” Mike says again, and Sonny can hear it, the regret, the concern in Mike’s voice. Sonny knows that Mike realizes exactly how much it hurts him, to know that Alice is still there, still important, that they’re still engaged. 

Sonny lifts his glass and downs the rest of it, cringing at the acrid taste of warm beer, and he sets it down before standing up. And he reaches into his pocket, pulls out the letter, and his key, and he sets them on the table before glancing up to look at Mike one last time. “I’m sick and tired of being ‘the other guy.’” Sonny just shrugs his shoulders. “Goodbye, Mike.” 

And Sonny ducks his head, has to look away because just that brief moment, the flash of pain on Mike’s face has his stomach churning with doubt. But he knows he can’t stay, knows this has to be the way it goes. So he leaves, and doesn’t look back.

😭😭😭