Instead of spending the day downstairs, hanging out with Rick like I'd hoped, I found myself sitting in my room, crying for three hours as the music blasted beneath me.

       "I fucking knew this would happen, and I let myself do it anyway. God, (Y/N), you fucking idiot." I buried my face in my knees, hugging them to myself as I sat in the corner of my room. Sobs tore through my body and I had no power to stop them.

       I was pulled from my current thoughts when somebody knocked on my bedroom door, pushing it open. I looked up, my vision blurred from the tears, and saw Morty. I wiped my eyes and sniffled, "W-What are you doing up here?" He shut the door and walked into the center of my room, rubbing his arm. "S-Summer and I were wondering where you went. W-We asked R-Rick, but he didn't know either. We've b-been worried ab-bout you, (Y/N)." I chuckled lightly, "Don't worry, Morty. I'll be fine. I should've known this would happen. Rick's just an ass. He doesn't care for anybody but himself." By the time I'd finished my sentence, more tears flowed down my cheeks.

       "That's n-not true, (Y/N)! I know he ca-cares about you!" Morty looked at me, desperation in his eyes. "I-I've never seen him care about anybody this much. He-He really does care, (Y/N)!" Morty straightened his back, moving his hands as he spoke, "He told me, (Y/N). He t-told me himself. He had said 'I don't know what to do' when he started hanging around you more. He said he didn't know what to do because he had told me he cared about you, and that he wanted to be around you through everything, but you refused to see him. When you locked yourself up in here for a week, you were all he could talk about. He didn't know what to do because nobody'd made him feel that way in a while. He found something with you, (Y/N). Please, you have to see that."

      I had slumped back down on the floor, wiping the tears from my face. "Morty, he doesn't care. If he did, he wouldn't have said what he did. If he did care, he would've been the one to come up and say that. He doesn't care, and he never will. And I'm done trying. I've tried, Morty. But, right now, I'm giving up."

       Morty just stared with a blank expression for a moment, trying to find something to say. Inevitably, he gave up. "Please, (Y/N). You're going to kill him. I mean it. Without you, he won't be the same person."

       Staring blankly, I shrugged, "I wish I'd never met Rick Sanchez." Morty turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving me upstairs for the rest of the night.

       I was right. Rick didn't care. He never stopped upstairs. Not once.