Work Header

broken dreams (hands around your neck)

Work Text:


Dear Journal,

                We’re going through with it, and I hate it.

                He made up his mind and I don’t understand how he convinced himself to go through with it and I’m also like 900% sure he was in the middle of an episode when he made up his mind, but this isn’t the first time he’s brought it up, so I caved.

                I freaking caved.

                He claims this is going to last a week, maybe two. I give it three days before one of us cracks, and at this rate, it might be me. I can’t...I don’t get it. I don’t think I wanna get it.

                I really really hate this.




                I hate myself.

                I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I don’t know how I’m going to convince him to let me go, or how long it’s gonna take, or what.

                I almost passed out three times today.

                He was fucking there all three times. We fucking cuddled. He told me we’d start tomorrow, because clearly we weren’t gonna be able to do it today. Not with all the chaos of move-in day, and not with our families around us, because they don’t know.

                I’m not good for him, and I don’t know how to get him to see that.




Dear Journal,

                Day One: FUCK THIS.

                My heart’s breaking and I don’t know if it’s for him or for me or for both of us but it feels like I can’t breathe, and Keith looks the same way. He won’t say it. I know he won’t say it because he’s a stubborn asshole.

                We did our like, goodbyes or whatever this morning, which is really stupid because we’re still roommates like?? But whatever. We’re officially on break now, I guess. (He doesn’t know I’m still wearing the promise ring under my shirt and I’m now playing a waiting game to see how long it takes him to notice.)

                The official rules? We’re still friends. Great friends, because we have each others’ traumatic backstories and also we spent the entire last two years as a unit. You kind of can’t just go back and undo that. Keith says we’re giving it a week to go and meet new people and see if we click with anyone else.

                (Translation: he’s waiting for me to find someone new so he doesn’t have to be a ~burden~ in my life. Two can play your game, mullethead.)


                We walked around campus together and my brain kept tagging different spots as “date spot, date spot, makeout spot, date spot” for hIM AND NOT FOR ANYONE ELSE. DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD THAT IS WHEN I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THINKING ABOUT KISSING HIM?

                I really. Really. Hate this.




                I woke up in his arms.

                This is not how this is supposed to be going.

                Once we sorted that whole situation out, we did our like...breakup? I guess? Well, I guess it’s not a breakup. Officially, we called it a “break.” But that’s 5/7 of the word “breakup.” And once Lance finds someone else, then it’ll be over. He’ll go on his merry way, I’ll go on mine, and I can spend the next four years trying to scrub the last two from my memory.

                It’ll be just like a scar. It’s gonna cut me deep and hurt like a bitch for a while, and then it’ll go away over time. It’ll be fine.

                I’ve got plenty of scars. This is just one more.




Dear Journal,

                First day of classes.

                I wanted to hold Keith’s hand on the way, and then remembered I couldn’t.

                I wanted to kiss him this morning and wish him luck, and then remembered I couldn’t.

                I wanted to run into his arms at the end of the day and swap stories about how our afternoons went. I couldn’t.

                He’s got his earbuds in and he’s doing homework.

                I think he severely underestimated how much I love him.

                I don’t think he’s noticed I’m crying.




                It’s been three days and I think this is what death feels like.

                We don’t cuddle at night anymore. I stopped that the day after I woke up with his arms around me and realized how much I didn’t want him to let go. He stays in his bed, and I stay in mine, just like normal people are supposed to.

                It’s just friendship. We still hang out, we still talk, we’re still roommates. We just...don’t kiss. And don’t cuddle or hold hands. And I pretend like I’m not still thinking about a future with him, because that’s not happening.

                My first day of classes was supposed to be something new, good, refreshing. That first step into the rest of my life.

                It feels weird not having Lance at my side, but I need to get used to it.




Dear Journal,

                Do Hogwarts students go back to school on September 1st, even if it’s a Saturday? Because I’m dying and I think I’d rather be anywhere but here.

                The first week of classes went pretty smoothly, except for the fact that Keith’s even made it a point to sit in a different part of the lecture hall than me. Something about focusing, or whatever. Maybe I should be relieved, because that means I don’t have to repress the urge to reach out for him and tell him we need to stop this.

                Today officially marks a week since we started. I thought it would be over by now, but Keith says he wants to give it one more week, because we weren’t fully integrated into the university life or whatever. This week will really be the week when we meet people, or whatever.

                I think if I tell him straight-up that I don’t even wanna try, he’s just gonna put his walls back up, and I hate it. I hate it so much. He hates himself and I don’t know how to fix that. I’ve tried so fucking hard and it’s not enough and I don’t even know if it’s my job to fix him.

                It shouldn’t be.

                But I want to.

                I’ve gotta find a way to end this before he ends up really hurting himself. I’ve gotta fix us, because if he goes down, I go down too.




                Is it obvious I’m trying to drag this out?

                The door’s right there, it’s wide open, I’ve even packed up his bags for him so he doesn’t have to do a thing. He won’t walk out. This should be confirmation for me, this should tell me that all the worst I’ve feared won’t come to fruition but I know this will all keep coming back. It’s like a curse. No matter what happens, I’ll always be worried.

                He’s trying his best and I want to believe him but I’m fucking terrified and he shouldn’t have to put up with me terrified every other day of the week.

                I extended it. I’m giving him more time.

                He thinks I’m taking my heart back. I don’t think he understands that it’s going to be in his hands forever, and I want him to take it when he leaves, so I don’t need to feel a thing anymore.




Dear Journal,

                I went to a party last night after I wrote that entry.

                One of James’ friends, Nadia? She’s pretty cool. She, her gf Ina, James, Ryan, Hunk, and I all went to some party on campus, in one of the dorms. It was mostly freshmen, and what Keith said keeps coming back to me. He wants me to meet new people.

                I met a girl, and I got her number.

                And I’ve been staring at my phone for the last twenty minutes, because she got mine, and she texted first, and she seems nice, and I don’t want to lead her on.

                This will never last.

-Lance wants to die



                I told Lance it would work out, and look, I was right.

                He got a girl’s number.

                I don’t think he believed me when I told him I was happy for him. I don’t think I believed me, either. Because this wasn’t supposed to be a breakup. Just a break. “I’m happy for you,” sounds like him moving on from a breakup. From me.

                Maybe I should’ve been straight-up and told him it was a breakup. Because that’s what I’m waiting for.




                He had a date today. One of the cafes on campus. He was there with the girl whose number he got.

                He seemed...alright, when he got back to the dorm.

                Pretty lost in thought.

                Probably thinking about her.

                Probably realizing this whole thing was a better idea than he thought.

                I’m...happy for him.



                This isn’t sarcastic in the least.




Dear Journal,

                Hi, long time no write. Sorry ‘bout that.

                I’ve just been too busy trying to figure out how to tell the love of my life that he’s being dense as fuck.

                I went on a date with Number Girl. Yes, she was nice, and I was a perfect gentleman, and maybe in another life it would lead to a date number two. Because really!! There wasn’t anything wrong with her!! EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT SHE’S!!! NOT!!!! KEITH!!!!

                God, I felt fucking awful afterward. I think I’m gonna text her tomorrow and be like, “hey, listen, you were nice and all, but this isn’t gonna work out, see there’s this guy that I’m still hung up on and I don’t wanna lead you on or make you a rebound because that would be awful, but thanks for a good time, I’m so sorry.”

                Because listen.

                The entire time she and I were chilling out in one of the campus cafes, all I could think about was Keith sitting across from me and his cute smile when he gets all flustered and me reaching across the table to hold his hand and him blushing and then running my fingers through his hair after the date and why the hell doesn’t he think I love him?

                What didn’t I do? What did I do wrong?




Dear Journal,

                He’s actively avoiding me at this point and I’m going to throttle him the next time I catch him.

                He’s never in the dorm. Sometimes I literally can’t find him and I’m fucking worried, alright? He doesn’t talk to me about his problems anymore. It’s like he’s slammed some door in my face and then locked it and then deadbolted it and then shoved a dresser in front of it and then stacked up several chairs on top of the dresser, just so I can’t get back in.

                Sometimes I see him on campus and he pretends like he doesn’t see me or notice that I see him but there’s a reason I was in the drama club and he was in crew: sometimes he can’t act for shit.

                He’s hurting.

                He’s hurting himself and he’s hurting me and I’m probably hurting him too.

                Maybe I do need to let go, but that’s easier said than done. There’s no button I can slam that just erases all of my feelings for Keith from existence. And I don’t want to prove him right, that given time I’ll eventually move on from him.

                You don’t just move on from someone like Keith.

-Lance is having a crisis



                I’m a fucking idiot.

                I’m an idiot and I’m hurting him and I want to fucking die.

                Because you wanna know what happened at fucking four in the morning?

                I had a nightmare. It’s blurry now and I think I’m currently repressing most of it but all I know is that I woke up and dove headfirst into a panic attack, and do you know whose fucking Keith senses must’ve tingled and woken him up?


                Because the next thing I knew he was there. He knew exactly what to do because he always does because he’s Lance. Because he’s fucking perfect. He’s a masterpiece that I keep trying to tear to shreds but he’s a masterpiece painted on steel. I can manage a few scratches and dents and it’s painful for him but I’m really hurting myself.

                I hate this.




Dear Journal,

                Why did I fall in love with someone as stubborn as Keith?

                He knows this isn’t working. He knows we’re both hurting, and do you know what his solution was?

                He approached me earlier today asking about how I felt about a roommate switch for next semester.

                I hate him. Maybe in Keith World it makes everything better, knowing that come January and the start of the new semester he won’t have to see me every day, and he can get over me more easily.

                I told him to think on it another week.

                I have one more week to end this thing.

                Let’s hope mulletman can see sense in a week.




                October 1st, the start of the scary month, is on a Monday.


                Anyway, the me of yesterday is an idiot. I don’t know why the hell I thought it was a good idea to ask Lance that question. He looked like I slapped him in the face, and rightfully so. Then he just said, “wait a week” and walked away and I don’t even know how to feel about that.

                Watching him turn his back on me is what I’ve been waiting for. I thought I’d be ready for it.

                I wasn’t.

                I know I’ve been avoiding him but today he started avoiding me and I finally realized what I’ve been doing to him all month. I told him it would last a week and I made him wait a whole fucking month and I’m only realizing my mistake because he burned me in return.

                I’ve been poisoning him, and I’m only realizing it because I’ve gotten a taste of my own medicine.

                I’ve gotta fix this.




Dear Journal,

                It’s apparently National Boyfriend Day and I really only remembered because it’s the same day as the Mean Girls quote and Keith and I also got busted for being obnoxious about it in front of Principal Zarkon last year.

                I don’t even know if I wish we could be pulling the same shenanigans now.

                He never made this a mutual thing and it’s only taken a month of heartbreak for me to realize. He wanted me gone so he could be all alone, Mr. Lone Wolf. He wants people to pity him and that’s fucking it. He never tried to go make more friends or find someone new to hang out with or maybe date in the future. He wanted me gone, and for what? So I could look like the bad guy for fucking leaving when THAT’S WHAT HE WANTED??

                It’s not my job to fix him and I’ve tried to fix us and he doesn’t care.

                Am I allowed to not care or am I gonna be stuck in some stupid Catch-22 where no matter what I do, I get blamed? If I go back to him, it’s not what he wanted. If I leave him, it’s what he wanted but he’s in pain. And I’m in pain. I can’t win.

                (...Is that the right way to use that phrase, Catch-22? I’ve never actually read Catch-22. Oh well. Doesn’t matter, I guess. Nothing matters.)




                So I fucked up. Really badly.

                I saw Lance this afternoon after our classes and it’s like some fucking switch flipped because he’s suddenly pissed. Like really fucking pissed.

                It’s National Boyfriend Day. I was plotting to make this up to him today because it’s not fair for me to keep pushing him away after everything and I think he finally realized he deserves better. And I have no right to be upset. Because I did this.

                I wonder if making it up to him is even worth it now. I have to apologize. I have to at least give him that. He needs closure. He needs to know I don’t hate him. I never hated him. I never meant to hurt him like this. I fucked up.




Dear Journal,

                I did something stupid and pretty much avoided Keith all week.

                I can justify it all I want by calling it a taste of his own medicine or by saying that he asked for this and was waiting for this forever, but now that I’ve actually done it and spent time thinking about it I feel awful. And I feel even worse because Keith wanted to show me something, wanted to talk to me, and I told him I had another date.

                I think I watched the light leave his eyes.

                I don’t even have another date and now I’m just hiding out in the library doing homework so he can’t find me. I didn’t bother going to Late Night, didn’t bother going to Hunk with this. I’m in the FUCKING LIBRARY DOING HOMEWORK ON A SATURDAY NIGHT.

                I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what I want.

                That’s a lie. I do know what I want. I want him back. I want us to stop being stupid and fix things before we can’t.

                It feels like freshman year of high school all over again: us dancing around each other, pushing, speaking some sort of code where we both know what we want and we can’t do a fucking thing about it because we’re young and we’re stupid.




                I thought being spontaneous and jumping out of my comfort zone would maybe shake things up and help me forget about Lance for a little bit, and maybe hold up the deal on my end. Maybe I could meet a boy.

                So I went to a party.

                I lasted five minutes before I rushed for the door, and literally ran into him.

                He came looking for me, just to make sure I was okay. Because he knows I don’t go to parties.

                I ran.




Dear Journal,

                Emails about roommate change applications for the spring semester went out today. I watched Keith open the email, hover over the link, and then trash the email.

                Maybe there’s hope.




                Saturday. I have to talk to him by Saturday. It’ll have been seven weeks since I made this fucking mess and I need to fix it. I can’t lose him.

                This is the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. I hurt him. I took a fucking knife to his heart and kept twisting it and then got mad when he turned away. Who wouldn’t walk away from someone who tried to kill them? Who wouldn’t run?

                I don’t want to be his murderer.

                I don’t know how he can forgive me for ever trying.




Dear Journal,


                I didn’t panic this time and accidentally make up another date, so there’s that. Keith and I are gonna meet up over by the lake on the Fine Arts side of campus. Am I allowed to call it a date, if I’m going with my ex-boyfriend and I don’t even know if he’s going to finalize the breakup or try and fix things?

                Oh my God, he’s my ex.

                Keith is my fucking ex.


                I just...I’m scared. There, I’ll admit to it, I’m finally afraid. What if he says the wrong thing? What if I say the wrong thing? Impulsive Lance has a MOUTH and if he jumps out in the middle of things I might fuck everything up even worse.

                Is this even normal? Do couples get into huge fights like this? Because I don’t like it. I hate this.




Dear Lance,

                Sorry for intruding. Your journal was on the floor and I didn’t even realize you were writing this stuff down. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I miss you. I don’t want to do this without you.

                I can’t wait for tomorrow. Talk to me later, please.





                He never stopped wearing the promise ring.

                Neither did I.




Dear Journal,

                We never made it to Saturday. Yeah, I saw that last entry in Keith’s handwriting. He watched me read it and when I looked up he was fucking crying and God I hate seeing him cry because I know he hates crying in front of people and then I lost it.

                I don’t even know who apologized first but we spent an hour swapping sorrys and explaining everything and then Keith showed me all of his journal entries. And we kept crying.

                And I held him.

                And he held me.

                He apologized for starting this, apologized for dragging it out, apologized for the way he made me feel because he never wanted that. And I apologized for not trying hard to make him open his damn eyes.

                And we kept crying.

                I don’t think I’ve cried that hard in a while.

                I think both of us were wondering if we would have to let things sit and cool down before we got back together officially but I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand seeing him torn up and I fucking missed him and holding him felt like that hole in my chest was starting to close.

                So I kissed him.

                I think it answers the question for both of us.




                Lance is remarkably good at letting things go.

                We had each others’ hearts in our hands and I crushed his and he’s willing to let me hold it again.

                We’re not back at 100%. I didn’t expect us to be. Not after what I did to him. But I think we’re somewhere close to it. After everything that went down last night, we fell asleep together. In each others’ arms. The way it’s supposed to be.

                We went on a date this afternoon to make up for yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to have my camera out to take pictures of him in the autumn leaves, because damn...he’s a sight.

                I tried to let that go.

                I pushed that away. I pushed him and his sunshine and his heart away. And he came back. A second chance I shouldn’t have gotten. Sometimes I hate that he’s selfless. I hate that that’s something I took advantage of, whether or not it was accidental. He doesn’t deserve that.

                I won’t fuck it up this time. I’m going to do this right.




Dear Journal,

                It’s Keith’s birthday. I think still being in that weird break thing today would have been really awful and probably murdered both of us.

                Glad that’s not the case.

                I told him his gift today was me. I think he thinks I meant it to get back at him for starting the whole mess but really I accidentally had his gift shipped home instead of to Arus so he’s not getting it till the weekend. But whatever. Let him think what he wants. ;)




                “Happy birthday babe! I got you something!”



                I don’t know if he meant it to be like “I failed in the gift department,” or what, but joke’s on him.

                He’s all I’ve ever wanted.

                I knew what I had when I had it and I still tried to push it away, and it still came back. He still came back. And it still hurts to think about, that I could’ve lost him for good. I could’ve pushed him over the edge, some point of no return. But I didn’t.

                This is going to take some time to heal. But I could be healing from worse.




Dear Keith,

                The glitter’s sticking around.

-Lance <3