Pentatonix (the album) One-Shots

Where Are Ü Now

Alright, y'all. This submission was by my wonderful, beautiful friend, , a.k.a. the girl who made me cry with this one-shot. Although I cried, it's tragically beautiful... therefore, it is worthy of being in my one-shot book. Don't forget, you can ask me about submitting one to be in my book. I don't want to write all of them. I'll write some, but I want this book filled with stuff from everyone. :)

So, without further adorn by miguel, here's a really sad one-shot that Is, as I said, tragically beautiful. <3

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Sitting there, I was sitting there on our bed. I was sitting there wondering how a year had gone by so fast. His shirt was in my hands, his favorite shirt. I could imagine him wearing it. I could imagine the way it hung from his shoulders, to the way it wrapped around his wrists. He had left me to rot on this planet by myself. He left me to cry in anguish as his spirit was freed.

Putting my face in his shirt, I walked back to the bed until the back of my legs hit it, then fell onto our comforter. I could still smell the cologne he used to used. He could smell that faint smell of the specific deodorant that he use to use. How I now associate him to that smell, no matter where I can somehow get a sniff of it, that was his scent.

A groan passed my lips as my eyes filled with salt water, the water soon escaping my now closed eyes, only to slide down my cheek like gravity planned it to. I knew that it is perfectly fine to be angry. That it is okay to get sad. It is fine to not be okay. I can't force myself to look into the future and protect myself from inevitable end, though, I was now in what felt like my inevitable end.

I have discovered many things from the last twelve months that I have been suffering greatly. I just needed to be aware of my boundaries and the wrongs I was now somehow making. I have learned and now knew that life isn't always fair. I know that at the time I truly did have a reason for what had happened, though they say I didn't. We were fighting, god, it was so bad. We were just yelling at each other, screaming at the top of our lungs, trying to see who could get the loudest.

When they say you never realized the damage it will take on your life after it happens, believe it. You truly don't know how much you love something until it is out of your reach, the grasp you are so willing to struggle with.

I had tried moving on, tried giving another person a chance to sweep me off my feet just like he had done with me. Just the way his smile glowed even in the darkest of places. The way his eyes were passages to what everything was, the true person he was. They showed emotions to me that I would only ever pick up by looking him in the eye.

I had tried to leave this place I now call a vacant piece of dirt. This so called home that now meant nothing to me, because he was no longer here. I had put them in my hand, thirty-five pills dead center in the palm of my shaking skin. But, by that time, I would be crying, bawling is a better word for it. I asked myself who would miss me, and the answer was him. For some odd reason I could still feel his connection there with me. Still feel his presence standing next to me in the line to get coffee, or while sitting on the couch. But, he wasn't really there.

I couldn't touch him or feel his skin on mine. I couldn't wake up to a groggy voice that I didn't realize I had loved so much. I just couldn't do anything because he wasn't here with me anymore. And, it was all because of me.

We fought, for no reason at all. Wyatt, our hairless cat, and I were laying on the couch watching some television, because the show that was on was the funniest show ever. While he stormed in, pissed beyond belief, he started to yell about something so absurd. Something that could have been fixed if he had just let me talk and not interrupted me. He was mad because the bills were sitting on the table this morning as he walked past them to go to work, which happened to be down the street. His bartending job took out all the energy he had, since he had to break up more than enough bar fights by pushing them away from each other and telling them to get out of his bar.