My Imagine

Chapter 9

You stay on the steps, eating and thinking about what the person on the phone said. If you're already being labeled as his so called "secret lover", then that's not good for either of you.
Sawyer angrily sits down next to you. He looks upset and furious.
You gently try to calm him down. "Sawyer? What's wrong? Talk to me."
He stares straight ahead. "This isn't a world I want you living in. It's full of judgement, and your personality is practically ripped away. I'm regretting it terribly, and I don't want you to make my mistake."
He looks into your eyes now. "Trust me, you don't want this. When I first saw you on the playground four years ago, it was like this, but being played by children. You, the star, were being bullied by the other kids, the paparazzi and society. My only wish now is that someone can come save me like I did you."
You're shocked. Is that what's been bothering him? Has he just been stressed out the entire time, worrying about your futures?
You slide closer to Sawyer on the step and rest your head on his shoulder. His arm comes up to your shoulder, and you two comfort each other.
"I never did thank you enough for that," you whisper. "I never realized how much that means to you. Thank you. Thank you for saving me."
He doesn't answer, but he does pull you in a little closer.
"You mean the world to me, and that's something I forget too often. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you." he says quietly. "I don't want you to be hurt by this, but you already have been. Just look at your hands and knees. That's partially my fault, and I feel awful about it. There's nothing you can say to get me to change that."
You feel something brush your face. You can see that Sawyer's crying a little. His eyes are glassy, but only the solitary tear escapes. The arm around your shoulders tightens to bring you in closer. Soon, you're half asleep on Sawyer's chest and playing with his hair, while he remains silent and staring.
"This is what I'll miss most about this place," he murmurs in your ear. "I won't be able to see you for a while."
You grimly braid a lock of his hair. "I'll miss this too, but it'll pass quickly once you adjust, and you'll be back before you know it."
He doesn't look comforted. "Yeah, but how long will I be able to stay the next time? With concerts and recordings and business things, we won't be able to see each other for a while."
Another tear falls onto Sawyer's shirt, but this time it's not his. You knew that this moment would come eventually, but you didn't expect it to hurt this much.
Sawyer shifts. "C'mon," he says, helping you to your feet. "I want to show you something."
Dazed, you follow Sawyer into his bedroom. It looks exactly the same as always, a little messy but simple and cozy. You spot a shoebox on his bed, and he hands it to you.
"I know I'll be leaving any day now, and I don't know for how long, so I got you something." he explains.
You lift the lid. Inside is his signature gray hat that he wore on The Voice. You look at him tearfully.
"Sawyer..."
You place the box on the floor and walk into his open arms. This isn't a friendly one-armed embrace: this is an actual hug, and it's filled with emotion.
He swallows hard. "I'm leaving next week, on Monday." he whispers. "I didn't want to tell you yesterday."
"When will you-"
"A few weeks, but not for long."
"Sawyer, I-"
"It's okay. I know. Ssh, it's okay."
You won't calm down, so he begins to hum in your ear. It helps, but it still doesn't ease your panicking nerves.
For the first time, you're worried that you might not see Sawyer again, and that thought crushes your heart, or at least what's left of it.
"Sawyer?"
"Hmm?"
"What about school?"
"A tutor's coming with me. This week is probably my last week."
"What about prom? It's next month! I know Ashley's dying for you to dance with her."
"I never really wanted to go to prom anyways."
"Well what about-"
"You can't change it. I don't want to either, but I have to go. I'm sorry, but that's how it is."
You knew your desperate attempts to make him stay weren't going to work, but you had to try. You carefully (and grudgingly) untangle yourself from Sawyer's arms and go back outside. You climb to the top of his favorite tree, and he joins you in about 30 seconds.
"I've always liked this tree," you say, looking over Fultonville. "I wish it wasn't a Sunday."
He laughs. "Why do you say that?"
"Because then we wouldn't have school tomorrow."
"I won't soon. So ha."
"I get it, city boy. Very funny."
"Hey! I'm not a city boy!"
"Yeah, sure then."
The two of you bicker like rivals up in the tree for hours, and for a few moments, everything seems like it'll turn out okay, but then reality comes crashing down on you as you leave your friend's house for possibly the last time.