Chapter Text
WILBUR
SATURDAY.
I can't fucking believe this.
How fucking terrified does Jared have to be not to break up with a fucking cheater?
He told me on Thursday, I processed it on Friday, and HERE I AM.
FUCK'S SAKE.
I invited Jared over in hopes of making him think of something other than Rosal.
Y'know what? I'm fucking sick. I've come to love you Jared, I really do. But what the FUCK are you doing? I'VE BECOME YOUR FRIEND AND THIS HAPPENS?
I shouldn't be mad at Jared, he's the victim, I understand it's better to comfort than say "I told you so!" when they finally break up. So, let us get pissed at FUCKING ROSAL.
ROSALIE MIAN.
WHAT THE FUCK.
I DATED HER???
I LIKED HER.
JARED LIKED HER???
I'm so fucking sick of this shit. So fucking sick.
Rosal is an abuser & a cheater. Jared deserves somebody better than her.
It's not fair.
Rosalie has never hurt anyone before Jared. I can't help but feel angry, but also pity. What an ass she must be. How the hell did she manage to get such a cute guy?
But Jared isn't cute.
Oh. Wait.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He has his eyes closed, and I can hear him breathe heavily. He's having nightmares.
Shit.
I sit up, grabbing some water from the kitchen.
When I come back, Jared is rubbing himself against a pillow (Not in a sexual way, just trying to get comfortable, I suppose.)
His head rests on the bed, and his chest rises and falls rapidly. The sheets look wrinkled around his knees, indicating that he slept there for a long time. He's still wearing his glasses, the frames are crooked on his face.
I notice how he's awake now.
I hope his nightmare wasn't horrible.
I hold the glass out for him, “Water?"
Jared takes it gratefully. "Thank you," he says.
His voice is raspy, "Sorry. I'll stop."
My heart aches for my friend.
He pulls off his glasses and puts them on the windowsill.
I set up a pillow barrier and climb into the bed.
I'm supposed to hate you.
But I hate your girlfriend more.
I take a sip from the cup, drinking from a different angle to not drink Jared's side.
I close my eyes once I set it down.
I can feel that Jared's breathing becomes slower and calmer. He's asleep.
That's good.
Because if he wakes up again, I will kill him, with a blunt object.
I wake in a dream blurry but vivid. The lights are cool, and the items are
warm-coloured.
I don't think I'm completely asleep, I can hear Jared shuffling.
I can see Jared's silhouette.
The colours are blocked in.
It looks like Jared's sketchbook.
Why is he here?
Where's Rosal?
Wait, he isn't alone.
There she is.
I see him moving closer.
What the fuck.
No. No. NO.
Is she trying to seduce him? Did he say yes?
No!
Did Jared say yes?
I can hear the real Jared breathing, but dream Jared only shudders.
It seems he's fighting something. His eyes snap open and then roll around frantically. His mouth opens, and no words escape. Only soft whimpers, almost like a dog. And he moves slowly like he's being dragged. I feel helpless to move my feet or hands.
I see him reach out towards his girlfriend.
Fuck no! Fuck! No! No!
He sits beside her. She turns towards him.
She kisses him; her mouth is soft, and warm, and tastes like strawberries and vanilla.
I watch.
Dream Jared wraps his arms around her. They make passionate love, I think.
This cannot happen.
All I see is Jared's art style.
They're nude, I've seen Rosal naked before, so she's vivid.
But Jared's body is vague.
But in my head, I see a graphic image.
They're fucking.
Jared looks like he'll cry, but only with his eyes.
Rosal's expression is blank.
Why am I dreaming this?
I want it to stop.
Just stop.
My eyes break open.
It's 4:00 am.
Jared is sitting at the edge of my bed, caressing my head with a wet towel.
He says, "Hey, Wilbur."
"Yeah, man?" I reply. My voice croaks.
"Are you okay? You had a bad dream."
"I had a nightmare," I reply. It feels weirdly natural to tell him about it.
"Do you... Want to talk about it?" Jared asks.
"Nah," I shrug. "It was nothing important."
"You sure?" Jared frowns, clearly concerned by my nonchalance.
"I'm fine," I lie. God, if I told him about my dream.
Jared nods, getting up. Before walking away, he pauses to give me a gentle hug.
I hug back. His body, when his muscles aren't flexed, is so soft. I could melt into his body. I hope I don't dream about it again...
He left. I'm not sure where he is now.
I looked at my phone.
It's still Saturday. I slept for two hours.
And my rest was nothing but Jared's sketchbook.
I wonder if he does draw things like that.
Drawings of him and Rosal fucking.
I wonder if he uses photos of them as a reference.
God, I hate that.
The thought of Jared being this sexual deviant is fucked, and I hate it.
As I text the group chat, I catch myself biting my cuticles. I know why.
I should be my person, not constantly thinking about someone else.
I exist for myself, and that's the way it should be.
Maybe Jared should learn that.
JARED
11:49 am
Fuck.