#poison tree

POISON TREE

pazzi x singer!reader

au fic, the team goes to hopkins .. that’s it really

sad, heartbreak , angst.

(THERE WILL NOT BE A HAPPY ENDING! YOU GUYS CAN HANDLE A LITTLE SAD STUFF. DONT ASK)

They broke your heart.

Tore it out, slammed it into the ground, and stepped on it like it was nothing more than an ant.

And you let them. You stood there, silent, as they walked away like you were disposable.

It left you feeling empty. Lonely. Soft in all the wrong places.

They all left. Of course they did — they were teammates. That unbreakable bond of loyalty never included you.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Not one person checked on you. Maybe they thought they shouldn’t. Maybe they didn’t care.

Your friends noticed the shift immediately. You didn’t even have to say anything.

But when you finally broke down and told them, it took everything in you to keep them from marching up to those girls — every last one of them — and making them beg for forgiveness.

You still loved them. You still loved both of them.

And that was the worst part.

Because they ruined you.

They made you believe you were the problem.

That you weren’t worth it. That you never were.

The only thing that pulled you from that pit was music.

The pen. The paper. The notes.

A talent show was coming up at school. And even though you weren’t quite healed, even though you weren’t sure you ever would be — you wrote a song.

And that’s what you were going to sing.

—

It took a month to finish it. It was short, simple, but every word bled truth.

The show was in two days, and while you weren’t nervous, you were scared.

Not of singing — no, you’d done that before. People knew your voice. Maybe not SZA-famous, but Hopkins-famous, sure.

You were scared of them.

The girls basketball team.

The ones that used to hold your hand in secret. Whisper sweet things and then leave you cold the next day.

Now you saw their faces everywhere — flyers, posters, morning announcements. Everyone adored them.

Sweet. Unproblematic. Inspiring.

So why couldn’t you think the same?

Why did your stomach drop every time you saw their smiles?

Why did their names feel like bruises on your tongue?

You sighed, biting back tears for the fifth time that day.

Your sister was in the other room, carefully picking out your outfit — something simple but eye-catching. Something that made you pop without trying too hard.

At least there was something to look forward to.

—

The auditorium filled up fast.

You watched from backstage as friends, classmates, and strangers found seats. Some waved. Others smiled wide.

A familiar face walked in — a guy from one of your classes. Kind, always helped you when you were struggling with math. You gave him a small wave.

An associate. Not quite a friend, but someone who saw you.

Then Thomas — your mentor, the one who helped you arrange the song — called you over.

He adjusted his glasses with his pinky and looked you dead in the eye.

“Look,” he said softly, “I want you to do your best. I want you to give it your all.”

You nodded, your breath catching.

“I know what happened,” he added, voice firmer now. “And it was fucked up. They don’t deserve you, sweetie.”

Your eyes welled with tears, but you blinked them back.

“Thank you, Thomas. Really.”

He gave you a nod. “Of course.”

—

You were the last act.

Ten others came before you — singers, rappers, a magician. You watched from the wings, half-distracted.

Because now… it was your turn.

And suddenly, the doubt kicked in.

Your song was heavy. Sad. Would people even like it? Would they understand?

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

You turned.

A girl stood near the curtains. Brown locs, soft glasses, glowing skin that smelled like coconut and vanilla.

She looked at you like she already knew you.

“I can tell when someone’s overthinking. You’re gonna do great, no matter what it is. You’ve got a voice on you, babes.”

The softness in her tone made your nerves settle, just a little.

“Thank you…” you said, voice trembling.

“Tessa.”

“Thank you, Tessa.”

She smiled and placed a hand gently on your shoulder. “Kill it, girl.”

—

“And last but not least,” the emcee’s voice echoed through the auditorium, “we have the amazing singer you all know and love, [ ]!”

Your heart thudded.

You looked over your shoulder. Tessa winked and slipped into the audience.

You took a breath — deep, steady — and walked onto the stage.

Cheers rose up. Claps. Hollers. Whistles.

But your eyes searched for only one group.

There. Side row.

Paige. Azzi. KK. Jana. Aubrey. Nika.

The team. All of them in matching blue warmups. Bright, sharp, undeniable.

They were quiet. No clapping. Just watching.

Observing.

It felt like ice water on your spine.

Your friend Sophie, who worked lights, dimmed the auditorium. Only one spotlight on you.

Just like you asked.

Thomas gave you a small nod from the wings.

The music started — soft, haunting.

And you began to sing.

⸻

“I’m slowly poisoned

And the voice of the wind

Reminds me of haunted dreams

My soul is healing

When all the stars reflect my memories…”

The crowd quieted. The room shrunk around you.

You poured yourself into the next lines like it was your last chance to be understood.

“Oh, beautiful poison tree

Let your power grow in me

Let your sorrow pour in me

Take away my blood and bones

Make your flowers deep inside of me…”

A flicker of something passed over Paige’s face.

Azzi’s lips parted, like she forgot how to breathe.

You didn’t look away.

“Oh, beautiful poison tree

Oh, beautiful poison tree…”

You closed your eyes for the second verse. It was easier that way.

“In another time when I used to feel

That something’s passing me…”

A hush had fallen over the audience. No coughs. No whispers. Just your voice and the slow pulse of the track.

“What a beautiful poison tree

Then your smile would crawl in me

Let your sorrow pour in me

Took away my blood and bones

Made these flowers deep inside of me…”

Your voice softened. You let the final note linger, fading into nothing.

Silence followed.

And then—

The auditorium erupted.

Standing ovation. Loud, raw applause.

But you didn’t hear any of it.

You took a step back, bowed once, and walked offstage.

—

Tessa was there.

She pulled you into a hug without a word, her warmth anchoring you.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered against your ear.

You didn’t respond right away.

Because over her shoulder, you heard it — sneakers. Footsteps.

And then a voice, soft and unsteady:

“Can we talk?”

You turned around.

Paige.

Behind her, Azzi stood frozen, eyes wide and red.

The others lingered farther back, unsure.

Your breath hitched.

You had choices now.

Because this time… the power was yours.

-

You didn’t say anything right away.

Paige stood there, eyes soft, shoulders tense like she’d rehearsed a thousand apologies but didn’t know which one to use. Azzi was quieter. Still. Like if she breathed too loud, you’d vanish.

Tessa gave your hand one last squeeze and backed away.

“I’ll be over there if you need me,” she said gently.

You nodded. Then, finally, looked at them.

“Talk.”

Paige blinked. “Here?”

“Unless you’d rather I make a scene.”

Azzi flinched. Paige shook her head. “No. No, here is fine.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, giving them nothing but your eyes.

It was Paige who started.

“We didn’t think you’d actually perform,” she said, voice low. “We saw the flyers, and… I guess I thought maybe you were just going to play something safe. Not that.”

“That,” you repeated. “You mean the song you inspired.”

Azzi winced.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she whispered.

You laughed, but it came out hollow.

“Of course you didn’t. You left before you could see the damage.”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair—”

“No,” you cut in, calm and sharp. “What’s not fair is being lied to. Being made to feel like I was something secret. Disposable. You two got to keep your perfect images, your teammates, your futures—while I sat in silence wondering if I was ever anything real to either of you.”

Azzi’s voice cracked. “You were. You are. I just— I didn’t know how to hold you and hold the rest of it at the same time.”

“I never asked you to hold all of it,” you said. “I just asked you not to drop me.”

That hit her. She folded slightly, covering her mouth.

Paige reached for your arm. “I messed up.”

You pulled back.

“You both did,” you said. “And I get it — maybe you were scared. Maybe the timing was bad. But you don’t get to come here and look at me like you’re the ones who hurt. You got to move on. I had to survive.”

The hallway was silent except for the buzz of the lights above.

Then you added, quieter this time, “That song was the only thing that kept me from hating you.”

Azzi looked up. “So what happens now?”

You tilted your head. Let the weight of that question settle.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But I’m not the girl who begged for you anymore.”

Paige stepped back. Her throat worked like she wanted to cry but wouldn’t.

“You were incredible,” she said.

“I know.”

You turned. Walked back toward the dressing room. Back toward the people who stayed. The ones who never made you feel like too much, or not enough.

And for the first time in a long time—

You didn’t feel haunted.

i want to be quiet . not necessarely mysterious , not scary or too beautiful . i want everyone to know about this headache and that it hurts to talk . i want to be left alone , and i want people to see i'm alone . i want to look sad forever .