Heathers The Musical One Shot

Sure, you and Jason had your fights as every couple did, but they never normally ended up in you sitting on opposite sides of his bed with you trying to prevent him from killing one of your school mates.

"You are so much better than this." Jason pushed your hand away from his cheek, doing all that he could to avoid looking you in the eyes.

"There is no... better." His jacket slipped over his narrow shoulders as he stood up.

"What are you talking about." You reached out to his shoulder, he grabbed tightly onto your hand and threw it off.

"There is no better. There is no good."

"What are you talking about?" You tried to comfort him once more.

"Don't fucking touch me." A lasting sting radiating from the back of your hand told you to not try again, you held it back, stepping away from him as he rummaged around his desk. Every draw had found its way onto the floor, pages of unreadable scribbles floated through the air whilst the rest of the contents lay scattered on the stained carpet. "Where did you put it?" You felt him slam his palms onto the desk, his hair clung to his face as he leant over it.

"Where did I put what Jason!? You know I don't go through your things."

"Stop fucking with my head!" He fell to his knees and began to rummage through the piles of old stationary, notebook pages and discarded electrical components.

He was running his hands through what looked like just a pile of old scrap metal when he stopped, his hands fell deft and a smile fuelled by malice spread onto his pale face. His hands rose from the pile, small cuts crafted into his skin from the sharp metal plates lined his fingers which held an old pistol. He held with the gun with such confidence, as if he had had it for many, many years; a full magazine prompted another smile.

"Get in the truck." He tucked the gun into the back of his belt, concealed by his jacket and grabbed your arm when you clearly didn't respond quick enough.

"I'm not coming with you." Jason laughed, waiting for a punchline to your obvious joke, wrestling your arm free from his grasp only made him hold onto it tighter, so much that you could see a red aura radiating from his fingers and onto your am. "I'm being serious."

"What gives you the impression that I'm joking?"

~*~

Written by Aaron.