John had always thought that death by heartbreak is an absurd concept. How can a heartbreak kill? Like, if it’s real, he would have died countless times, considering his history. He’s pretty sure SNAFU is the only proper way to describe his poor excuse of a love life. Her included.
BOHICA, he murmured to himself when she first barreled into his life, leaving a trail of beautiful destruction in her wake. He thought he’d know better but he has always been weak to strong women and the redhead is the strongest of them all. So he fell in love, a love so consuming he can no longer tell where he ends and she began. A love as overpowering as her that he’s brought to his knees and in her mercy.
A love that rips his still beating heart out of his chest and tore his soul apart.
A love that give him the answer he never knew he’s been looking for: that all it takes to kill him is one too many heartbreak by the right person.
It’ll make a great inscription in his tomb, he numbly thought as he burned the last cigarette in his fourth pack of the day.
Cause of death: broken heart.
À la mort,
Prompt: Shawn Mendes’ Stitches.
“I thought that I’ve been hurt before, but no one ever left me quite this sore.”