One of my friends and my girlfriend I should post this. I wasn't really sure if I should, but I did anyway. I was kinda sorta inspired to write this by the song Don't Be One by Emmure, and I use the lyrics of that song in this story. I don't hate Wybie or anything, just so you know. I'm actually pretty sure this is a little OOC in the case of Wybie, but I guess that's up to the reader to decide. I have another reason for writing this other than the fact that I was inspired by the song. Disclaimer: Not only do I not own Coraline, but I do not own any songs or song lyrics by Emmure. I am just a fan.

Don't Be One

Wybie couldn't take it anymore. He loved Coraline, but she loved someone else. She was always with that other guy.... in her room, in his car.... Wybie saw them. It hurt, and he was alone to suffer. He kept saying to himself that she didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care.... he was alone in this world to suffer. Wybie couldn't take it anymore.

(These dark days, I spend them all alone....)

He lied down on his bed. He wouldn't sleep, he couldn't eat. Nothing but emptyness. He took out his phone. He had to call her, to hear her voice before......

(and I lie here awake, wishing you'd just answer the phone.)

The phone rang, rang, and rang.... it reached her Voicemail. Of course she wouldn't answer, she didn't care....

(1-718-No-You-Won't answer anyway, why do I even bother?)

Hw figured he might as well leave a message, asking her if she cared.... if it even mattered to her, would she even care if he died that night.

(Would it matter to you if I died tonight? Would it matter to you....?)

He asked if it mattered, if she even cared, that she wouldn't get to say goodbye. Would she even care that he was gone forever?

(Would it matter to you that you never got to say goodbye?)

Tears ran down his cheeks. Miserable, completely fallen apart. He told her that he loved her.... he told her to live her life, to be happy, to follow her heart....

(Just know that I loved you more than life, follow your heart and do what's right.)

He hung up the phone and put it down. Drawing the drawer beside his bed, he pulled out his father's old revolver, cocking it.

(We never got to say goodbye, we never got to say goodbye.)

He pointed the gun to his head, but he still wanted to hear her voice one last time....

(Here I go walking alone into the light.)

He picked up the phone, redialed her number.... it rang, and rang....

(Pick up, pick up, pick up before I enter the light.)

She answered.

"Hello? Wybie? Wybie I heard your voicemail just please don't-"

I was too late. The last thing he heard was the sound of her voice (the sweet, beautiful voice of the girl he truly loved).

He pulled the trigger.

[A/N]: This story has a moral to it: Don't pull the trigger. No matter how much heartbreak you suffer, it's never worth killing yourself over. It's always better to heal and move on. I really hope I didn't offend anyone in writing this. If I have, I'm sorry. In any case, please tell me what you think. R&R please.