Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[8]

Elliot

***

Being with Shawn felt like being in a prison. But a good prison, one with deep brown eyes and a contagious smile that made him look warm and inviting. A prison I didn't want to leave.

But I felt like at any moment the prison door would close and I would be left alone with him, me, and my guilt.

I didn't even want to leave him the way that I did when I was doing it, and now that it's years later I feel like there's no escape to what I did-- it's never going to go away.

As much as I hate pity, I kind of feel bad for Shawn. He was like this little ball of cuddles, nothing could hurt him except for me. The one person who had that capability and used it. Of course I used it.

Maybe the world is just this big test on who's life you ruin and who's you change, and then how that affects you and your life and your heart.

I always thought that Shawn and I were better than that.

I always thought I was better than that.

And now here he is, right in front of me. I feel like maybe he's trying to read my mind, and I just want everything to be okay so I can stop feeling invaded. We sit on the subway right now, me on the seat and him standing and holding the pole since there was only one seat left and he gave it to me.

People kept coming up in groups, each dying for a chance to take a picture with him or have a hug.

Now I know why it took so much to get Shawn on the train. He wanted to have a conversation with me, something that wasn't happening at all because every time I would start talking three more girls came up to him.

He seemed really apologetic about it, but that didn't change the fact that I wanted to get off this subway and just be alone with him. Not that I was dying to have him all to myself, but I'm just saying that if we must talk I'd rather do it in private.

"Elliot, I swear to God I am trying to listen," he says once he sees me getting annoyed.

"It's fine."

Once we got off the train, we find the exit and race up the stairs and back onto the streets. Shawn follows me with his hand on my back.

"So," he starts once we start walking and are alone again, "How did you -"

He was cut off by his cell phone ringing in his pocket, and he pulls it out and groans. Just when I think he was going to deny it, he looks at me with tired eyes and says, "I'm so sorry. It's my manager, I really have to take this."

"Oh, Andrew?" I lean over to meet his eyes.

He must've forgotten that her told me earlier who Andrew was. That seems like a lifetime ago, though.

"Yeah," he nods slowly.

He clicks the accept button and raises the phone to his ear, turning away from me. I could still hear everything he was saying.

"Hello?"

He pauses.

"What, Andrew, why are you calling me at like 3am?"

Another pause.

Suddenly his eyes go wide and he freezes.

"What?"

I step off the curb with one foot, shifting my weight. That's a habit I have when things get awkward.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I look around at the lights that were on in each little window of each little building in this little part of the city.

"But. . . I can't."

I wait patiently for him to hang up so he could tell me exactly what was going on. I really want to ask him something, I'm tired of waiting until everyone has gotten their fair-share of him. I know that makes me sound selfish, but before he was all big and famous I wouldn't have to worry about any of this.

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Yeah, whatever. Bye."

He slips his phone back in his pocket, turning to face me. He sighs.

"Elle, I -"

"You have to go," I nod, "Yeah. I understand."

"I really don't want to, but my flight to London leaves in an hour and a half," he reasons. "I feel like there's so much we haven't done."

"I know. I'm going to miss you," I say, and it was true. As much as I wanted to leave this prison before it's too late, I wanted him to stick around so maybe eventually he'll forgive me and I'll forgive myself, and everything will be okay.

I pull him in for a tight hug, my fingers locking on the small of his back.

"Take pictures of anything in London you'd think I would like," I say to him, my voice muffled by the clothing over his shoulder.

"I will," he responds, then he scrunches his eyebrows and looks down at the ground, his hands still holding the insides of my elbows.

"Can I just say, that, it would be impossible to ever forget you. It's not even that I'd moved on from you, it's just that I'd learned to deal with the pain of losing you. But if I never see you again after this, I don't think I will," he says quietly, our eyes meeting.

Then he smiled a little, and it was a smile I could tell was real.

"Be confident," I say. "I want you to be strong."

"I can't, not without you."

"You're going to have to learn to survive without me, because I won't always be around, Shawn."

He stands there for a minute, taking it all in, and then he nods. "I know. You don't give me strength particularly. Mainly the sanity I need to be strong. And I love you, Elliot. I know it's crazy, but I do. And I forgive you."

I pause.

"Thank you, Shawn. I love you too."

He freezes up, his eyes growing cold. I could feel his fingers on my arms tighten.

"W-what? You do?"

"Yeah," I shrug, grinning. "I always will."

He laughs nervously, his eyes drifting everywhere until they land back on mine. Everything slows down for a minute, and I could feel the gravity between the two of us pulling us in.

He stops suddenly.

"Is this okay?"

Without thinking, I nod, and soon the taste of his lips were familiar again, under the street light there outside the subway station. And I could feel something come undone, or reattach, or just in some way shift.

Things were so damn complicated.

This was my home, and he lived on a suitcase. But for that single second, it didn't matter.

Because maybe he gave me my own little piece of sanity to hold on to, no matter where either of us were.

***

A/N

good news at least is that I know how this story will end, so there shouldn't be much writer's block.

anywho, thanks for all the support! I love youuuuuuuz. (: