tristfulwriting

[tristfulwriting]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend of two years is leaving off to tour, and you want to surprise him before you do. What you don’t know is that he’s with a totally different girl. corbyn!reader

WARNING: sadness, tears, and fustration :)

A/N: hi. this is my first time posting on tumblr, so i really don’t know how it works lmao. im a Wattpad person, but recently, Tumblr has been getting some good fanfiction. if you don’t know, this is a short one shot about Corbyn Besson. i honestly know he wouldn’t do what he’s gonna do in here, but hey, let a girl write

YOU GRABBED A boquet of flowers, hoping that Corbyn, your boyfriend, would like them. It happened to be a bunch of daises and roses, classics that everyone got. Hopefully, he’d like it. While choosing your flowers, you noticed some chocolates across the store. With your flowers in hand, you jogged to the chocolates.

Valentines day was approaching, and as much as you hated to have your boyfriend gone that day, you were happy for him. He was going on tour for Eight Letters, one of the albums you favorited over the others. You decided to surprise him before he left, so that when he left, you both were on a happy note. You grabbed his favorite chocolate brand, picked up a cheesy card you knew he’d like, and paid for everything. You thought this was going to be fun, and that Corbyn would absolutely love it.

After blasting music in your car, you finally made it to Corbyn’s house. No one was home except for Corbyn which made you confused. You didn’t care though. The rest of the boys were probably busy. You had a spare key from Jonah, glad that he gave you it beforehand.

Without hesitation, you quitely walked to the front door. You stuck the key in, twisted it, then opened the door. You were being quiet as a mouse when you stepped in, quitely closing the door behind you. You tip-toed to Corbyn’s room, where you saw the light on. The door was closed, but you could see the light from underneath the door.

You reached his door, smiling to yourself when you heard music playing. With no worries, you twisted the knob and opened the door. Your eyes traveled across the room until they saw Corbyn and Christina, making out on his bed. Their eyes widened as Christina hurried to put on her shirt.

You were shocked, at first. But then you became angry and livid that Corbyn Besson was cheating on you! Your jaw dropped as you processed the scene in front of you. Corbyn was shirtless, Christina was almot naked, and you were standiing fully clothed.

Your heart felt like a million pieces just shattered. Your gut felt like it was being punched repeatedly. Your eyes filled with tears as your mouth stumbled for words. There was no way to describe what you felt. You wanted to crawl underneath your skin and cry forever, holding on to the rest of your humanity. You blinked when Corbyn stepped towards you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he whispered as he stepped closer.

You backed away from him, not wanting to be within his perimeter. “How could you?” your voice asked, but it sounded hoarse and weak.

When he didn’t respond, you threw the flowers and chocolate at him. “You’re throwing away two years, Corbyn. Two years of fucking love, memories, and friendship! How could you do this to me? Was I not good enough? Was I too ugly, fat, or untalented? Why did you—just why?” you exclaimed, feeling yourself break down. You didn’t want to break down in front of Corbyn. He didn’t need to see you so vulnerable and broken.

“I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I love you, Y/N, I really do. Please, we can fix this. I know we can,” Corbyn begged as he held your hand.

Tears were now falling down your cheeks as you pushed Corbyn backwards, glaring at him and Christina. You stormed out of the house, but almost tripping over stuff. Your eyesight was blury, and you didn’t think you had enough energy to drive a car. However, you got in your car anyway. You turned it on and when you finally pulled out of his driveway, you let loose. You slapped your steering wheel angrilyand let all the tears come out.

Harsh sobs left your mouth as you closed your eyes. You felt like you were hyperventilating, but you didn’t care. You were sure that by now, you were hysterically crying.

The pain was unwelcomed. It traveled down your head, into all the turns and nerves of your body, then it stopped at your feet. You were feeling pain all over. Hell, you honestly just wanted to go home.

You drove yourself home, emotionless. Your apartment neighboors stole some long stares at your vulnerable state. You mindlessly stared back at them with a scowl. They turned away immediately, shocked to see the usual cheerful girl so heartbroken. You had red, puffy eyes and swollen lips. Your face was red, and if you didn’t look closely, someone could think you were high.

But no, you wish you were high. Instead, you were a heartbroken girl who was stumbling for the keys to her apartment. You couldn’t find the keys in your purse, but when you did, you wasted no time to open your door.

You collasped on your bedroom bed, allowing the tears fall out of your face. You broke down into harsh sobs, once again. Nothing was holding you back anymore. You thought about all the memories Corbyn and you had together. All the simple and little things you loved about him, the ones he did for you, and the ones that made you feel appreciated.

You remembered all the times where he’d call you at 3 AM just to hear your voice, or when he would come over, unannounced. You thought about all your late night conversations with him in bed, and all the one-on-one talks in the car. You thought about the time he first told you he loved you, about the time when he said he wanted to marry you one day, and about the time he said he wanted to have kids with you.

You remembered it all, and all of it was eating you up. You curled into a tiny ball on your bed, and you watched your large window that gave you a perfect landscape view. You saw everyone carry on with their lives, feeling even more broken.

You saw couples walk hand-in-hand, smiling together. You wanted that back, but you knew you couldn’t get it.

🏹 end of one shot.