all i want :: s.m

0: prologue

thursday ¬ january 1, 2015

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, and it was evident, he was completely heartbroken. Just as broken as his washroom mirror when his emotions got the best of him and his fist collided with his reflection. The mirror shattered into different sizes of ragged triangles of glass, only some parts of it surviving the impact of his fist.

His shaking body stumbled to the ground and he sobbed there, the piece of paper he held within his hand suffocating as he crumpled it, ripping it into pieces afterwards, making it correspond to his heart—no longer one piece.

Fireworks danced across the sky, and while everyone was outside with grins on their faces and cheers coming out of their lips, Shawn was locked inside his washroom, his breathing violently uneven and tsunamis of tears fleeing his bloodshot eyes. He weeped louder, knowing that no one would be able to hear him; his parents and his little sister were outside, and the volume of the booming fireworks helped.

Shawn cried vehemently just by simply imagining that he had never received the piece of paper—that it was never on his bed in the first place when he came back from a family dinner. And maybe if it that was so, he would be joining his family and Aaliyah outside, watching the fireworks up in the sky, his arms wrapped around Ella Rose (his girlfriend since freshman year), and he would so often give her small kisses on top of her head.

He wanted that. He wanted that so badly.

But he couldn't have that.

Not anymore.

Not since the piece of paper, a letter, was on his bed when he got home from a family dinner, Ella's neat and conspicuous penmanship handwritten in black pen. The simple piece of paper with writing on it was the reason why he was on the bathroom floor in the first place, draining his eyes from tears, his lungs finding it difficult to process air.

Dear Shawn,

Before I start this letter, I just want to tell you that I love you. I love you so much, Shawn...to the heavens and back...but you're not what I want anymore. When I say this, I say it sincerely: it's not you, it's me. You're a great guy, Shawn—and anyone would be so lucky to have you—but I don't want to be with you anymore.

My family and I decided that we're moving—and not just my house, but the country. I'm not going to tell you where I'm going (and don't even try to ask any of my friends because they don't know, either), but all you need to know is that I left already.

I decided that you didn't need to know where I'm going, because if you did know, it's most likely that you're going to visit me and try to talk things out, but there's nothing to talk about anymore. I'm ending it; I'm ending us.

And I know that this is the worst time for be to do this, and I cannot say it enough that I'm sorry. But I hope you'll still watch the fireworks. Let's just hope I don't crash...do fireworks even reach airplanes? Whatever. That's not the point.

I don't regret any of the things I've done with you, Shawn. I especially don't regret (and I will never forget) December 25, 2014, because that was the best night of my entire life. But stuff happens. I'm sorry.

I love you, Shawn, my babyboy. But it's over. Goodbye.

Love, Ella Rose ♡

-

*hopes to ruin people with this story*