Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[30]

here we go you guys.. the end of this story. don't know why i'm cryin in the club rn

***

Shawn

Lots of things happened today that I don't think I can ever forget.

I woke up this morning thinking that I was going to a premier, walking the carpet and posing for some shots with the woman who was carrying my child, the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

I woke up this morning thinking I would never see Elliot again.

I woke up this morning thinking my career and the record company was completely done with me, and it was all over.

But now here I am, feeling like a completely different person sitting uncomfortably in the exact same skin-- I see everything so differently, but through the same exhausted eyes.

And there she was, next to me, where everyone knew she belonged. And somehow having her there put me at ease, knowing we were tackling every obstacle together.

We both cast our gaze to Brooke, who stood down the hall from us, patiently awaiting a response that clearly, between the two of us we were too stunned to offer.

All I could think was, I knew yet another thing was bound to pop up before this day ended.

"Brooke," Elliot at last speaks up beside me, her hands dropping to her sides as she heaves a sigh. "Brooke, please don't do anything with what you just heard."

"What?" she places a hand on her chest as if what Elle just said had offended her. "What did I just hear?"

"Oh don't do that," I scoff, rolling my eyes at her. "You know what she's talking about. Did you record that?"

She drops her wide eyes and replaces her shock for a small smile, holding her phone up in the air as proof. "You bet."

"Well you better delete it," Elliot shakes her head, stepping away from the door and closer towards where Brooke stood.

Brooke doesn't budge. "Or what?"

"Brooke, you don't want to do this. Articles like that ruin people's lives, their careers," Elliot explains, lowering her voice in case anyone around was eavesdropping, though the hallway was pretty much empty.

"Oh, his career is history anyway," Brooke argues, nodding towards me behind them. "You have to understand that this is my job. This is how I make a living."

"Shawn's job was how he made a living," Elliot fires back. "And you ruined everything for him."

"There was nothing I did," she rolls her eyes, dusting off her slick black leather jacket and tucking her cell phone back into the back pocket of her skin-tight distressed jeans. "You're making this way too personal. You don't understand everything about reporting yet, kid, and that's fine. But soon enough you will, and you'll learn that it's all a package deal."

"Okay first of all, don't call me kid," Elliot shifts her weight to her left foot as she speaks, "and second, I don't want to be a reporter if this is the kind of stuff you do. That's not who I am, and I know that's not who you are either."

Can I just say it again? I love Elliot.

I could stand here behind her and just shut my eyes and listen to her voice as she talks in that beautiful, small song all day, every day, for the rest of my adult life. I don't think I could ever get tired of her, stay mad at her, or keep away from her.