𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝟒

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EDIT: (most of this chapter is now retconned. the finale is now the true cannon. you the reader can choose to view weather or not to include this in the cannon as well.)



trump would wake up in a cold sweat , heart pounding and chest heaving up and down . his eyes would search for the clock in his dark room , 4:23 am .

for the past 3 years or so , nightmares where a constant thing , especially as of lately . the same occurring theme in each and every single one , almost a flashback to be exact .

the gunshot , the scream , the eyes piercing through his heart , phrases being constantly repeated , replaying and burning in his mind .

he'd put his hands on either side of his head , pushing down gently to try and clear it from the bad memories . not long after taking a while to breathe , he realized that going back to sleep probably wasn't an option . so , there he was , starting off his day at 4:23 am .

after brushing his teeth , combing his rhis hair that he barely had left on his head , and plowing through some cereal for breakfast , he'd get in his car to run some errands at his local piggily wiggily™

timeskip over things that i'm too lazy to write about , especially considering this chapter is going to be a long one , he'd arrive at the piggily wiggily™ . he'd turn the keys in his car to make it shut off . the sound of luke bryan's thats my kinda night™ suddenly being cut off and ending . he'd briskly walk through the cold , poorly paved parking lot and into the possibly 67 year old grocery store . he'd pull out a buggie from its holder , which also looked like it was 67 years old , considering it was those buggies that had the wheels that jerked and made it almost impossible to turn .

he'd grab some pasta , put it in the cart . pesto , in the cart . cosmic brownies , in the cart . those weird sweet pickles that are honestly kinda gross but southern people swear on their life that it's good , in the cart . aisle after aisle he'd finish up his shopping . but on the frozen foods aisle , the impossible happened . standing in front of him was none other than joe biden . his ex lover . his jaw would clench and he'd feel his eyes sting , this man has caused him so much pain in his life .

" oh , donnald ! it's nice to see you again . it's been a few years . "

( it was not . )

" yeah ... uh— yeah it has . how's you and obama been ? the white house still holding up ? "

( he's still not over joe . )

" hahah ... yeah no uh ... i don't know if you had heard but me and obama ain't a couple anymore . but the white house is fine , little empty though ... "

( he knew him and obama broke up . )

" oh— oh no yeah sorry to hear that joe . yeah i ain't live in NYC anymore , i live here in selma now , seemed like a pretty good place to get away and forget about all my problems .... how are you dealing ... you know— with all that ? "

( joe had wanted to talk to donnald about it , but he blocked him on twitter . )

" well , i done had the same damn idea as you . i also live here now . and ... not all too well ... i've gotten better at it— but i still cant forget about all that . ain't think i ever will if i'm bein honest . "

( joe ... still isnt over trump either . )

" if you ever need to talk about it joe , you know where to find my snapchat . i ain't ever got around to blockin you on there yet tehehe "

( he laughs like tehehehe )

" here . give me your hand . "

before trump had gotten time to question what he was doing , biden would grab his wrist , and would write something in his palm . after he was done he'd wrap his fingers around trumps knuckles and would close his fist . he'd then swirve his buggie and would walk away . ( almost tripping though , the buggies where still awful )

after biden had left , he would slowly open his fist . where he read , in blue ink :

' meet me at our spot '
( signed with a heart )

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