In a Heartbeat (MxM)

Chapter 48

A/N: Surprise, I didn't think I'd finish this, but here we are. This is probably more of a mellow chapter, but let me tell you that I've planned ahead up to about chapter 59, and boy oh boy do things get interesting, hehe. I think this filler will help with the angst and stresses of chapters 52 on. Ch 51 is fairly cute and fluffy, let me tell you. Anyways, enough of spoilers, because watch I have to rewrite my plans for chapters later LOL. For people wondering, and aren't following, this book will probably be about 62-65 chapters based on what I've planned, and will include an epilogue and potential deleted scenes :) I know this book is long and there's people who plan to read the whole thing when completed.  Sorry for my rant. Enjoy, let me know what you think and all that! Comments, votes, follows appreciated <3

Chapter 48

Vince's POV

Dear Simon,

Where should I begin?

No. I scratched it out.

Dear Simon,

You should hate me. You really should, if you don't already.

Nope. I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Dear Simon,

I'm sorry. UGH.

Dear Simon,

I know sorry probably doesn't mean anything, no, it definitely doesn't mean anything. FUCK.

I crumpled another piece of paper, and threw it haphazardly across the room, missing the overfilled wastebasket. Why was this so hard when I could write hundreds of reports and meeting notes like nobody's business? Why couldn't I just say it?

Chase had made it sound so easy, a simple letter. But this was worse. Just a page of words, but it would take dredging up some of the darkest fears, the painful memories that I didn't want to relive, things that I convinced myself were better unsaid. Feelings I had pushed down to the most hidden of recesses.

I tried typing it out, hand-writing it, but I just couldn't get the words right. I mean, what was I supposed to say to make it sound less of an excuse and more like a legitimate reason. Would my reasoning even be enough at this point?

I knew it wouldn't, but this was more than just that. More than justification, it was what he deserved. Those missing pieces, the clues to the whole giant mess of a picture we painted. The one I so destroyed.

Even if it ruined everything, at least it would be something I had done for him. Something he wanted.

So I focused all of my energy staring at the empty pages, other scrawled out sentences scattered on the desk, hoping something would conjure onto the page.

I managed to write Dear Simon a few more times, leaving space so I could figure out the damn first sentence, knowing I needed to make sure it sounded genuine enough, but before I could put even a single word, the door opened, nearly giving me a damn heart attack.

Thinking it was Simon, I scrambled to crumple the pages, when I realized it had been Michael.

"Love letters?" He joked with a smirk. He took long strides, walking towards my seat, looking at the crumpled paper balls everywhere.

"What do you want?"

"Well, someone's in a sour mood," he commented before leaning against the bookshelf in front of me. I rolled my eyes at him. "Simon told me you had to up your dose."

I frowned. Of course, they've been talking. "Yeah, apparently wolves have limits too when it comes to weaning off things."

"Well, I could've told you that," he mocked. "It sounded quite dreadful. Must've been painful."