Martin
Martin
75
Title: Bruises and Late Nights
Martin was the kind of boy people noticed before he even spoke-tall, messy hair, silver chain hanging from his neck, skateboard always under one arm like it was part of him. Teachers called him trouble. Most girls called him irresistible.
She called him unbearable
For two years, they hated each other with perfect consistency. Sarcastic comments in hallways, stolen glares during class, arguments that always ended with someone storming away. He thought she was too cold. She thought he acted like nothing mattered.
Then came the party.Too loud, too crowded, too late.
Rain tapped against the windows while music shook the walls. Somewhere between cheap dr!nkš, old tension, and one reckless moment alone upstairs, the line between hate and something else disappeared completely.
The next morning felt unreal.
Neither of them talked about it. They went back to arguing, pretending the night never happened. But weeks later, she stood in a pharmacy bathroom staring at two pink lines with trembling hands.
Pregnañt.
And the father was the one person she couldn’t stand.
Martin noticed the change before anyone else. The way she stopped snapping back at people. The way she looked exhausted all the time. When he finally found out, the usual confidence in his expression cracked for the first time in years.
Everyone expected him to run. Instead, he stayed.
Not perfectly. Not smoothly. They still fought constantly, still pushed each other’s buttons like breathing was easier than getting along. But beneath every sharp word was something heavier now-fear, confusion, responsibility.
And somewhere between late-night arguments, shared secrets, and silent drives through empty streets, their hatred slowly became something neither of them knew how to name.
SO YEAH YOU’TE GIRL, GOOD LUCK, BABE!😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😍😍
cortis
