The One After [SHAWN MENDES]

Chapter 50

"You don't mean that," Shawn said in response to me telling him I was ending things.

"Please do not tell me what I mean! You read my journal, so you know I've been considering pulling the plug before I get in over my head."

Shawn got out of the bed and began pacing around my room. After a bit, he stopped and looked at me. "This isn't where I wanted this conversation to go."

"Same, but here we are."

"What am I supposed to do? Do you want me to give up on my plan to not get too involved with anyone at this stage in my life? Do you even understand why I feel this way?"

"I'm not calling what we have off as an ultimatum to get you to commit to me," I said with exasperation. "As for understanding how you feel, I respect that you're focusing on yourself, but if that's the case, why start anything with me at all? You had to know this wasn't going to end well!"

His face fell. "I didn't go into this planning to hurt you."

"Maybe not deliberately, but I made it obvious how I feel about you awhile ago, so unless you thought you might eventually feel the same way, you never should have shown back up in my life after things ended the first time."

"Lucy," he started as he sat back down on the bed. "You need to see this from my perspective."

"I'd love to, but you've been intentionally vague about what happened in your past that's made you want to limit what we have."

"My heart was broken in a million fucking pieces last year. I spent over six months grappling with the realization that the happiest time of my life was over and that I was alone," Shawn said sadly.

It's not like this was news since he'd said this in a song written before we met, but his words were like a dagger stabbing my already injured heart. He was never going to be as happy with me as he'd been with Camila. He'd made it clear that they were over and that he was no longer in love with her like he had been, but that didn't erase the fact that she had been the love of his life.

I wanted to hate him for being so blunt with me, but I couldn't help but feel empathy for his pain. "I'm sorry that you lost what you had. Maybe you need to fight to get her back. It's never too late for a second chance- look at JLo and Ben."

"Missing how happy I was doesn't mean that I want to go back. Camila and I broke up for solid reasons, and we were both aware that it needed to happen."

"Reasons you don't want to share with me."

"No. What went down with her doesn't involve you," he told me.

"Except it does. You're focusing on yourself as a result of whatever it was, and that's why you planned on taking a break before going on tour again. It's all interconnected with your relationship with Camila."

He winced, which occurred almost every time I said her name. "I don't want you pinning our issues on her."

I got where this came from; Camila came up an embarrassing amount in my journal. The thing was, I'd never felt hostility towards her and I didn't resent what they had. I just hated being the one that came after her, because she was an impossible act to follow.

"The night I met you, I thought to myself that your heart belonged to someone else," I said before taking a deep breath. "I don't blame her or you. I only blame myself. You have been open about not wanting to get seriously involved, and I've had countless opportunities to back out. I chose to stick around and fall deeper in love with you. Obviously I can't change my past decisions, but I can get out now before things go any further."

His brown eyes filled with tears. "I wish you'd reconsider. I really like what we have together."

"That's pretty selfish of you. Staying with you means I may never have the chance to be loved in return, which is the worst feeling in the world."

"I know that feeling," he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"Then you must understand my side, right?"

"That doesn't make this any easier."

I brushed the tears off my cheeks. "No, but it will get even harder the longer we continue this charade."

"It's never been a charade."

"But it's never been real, has it? At least not on your side."

He grabbed both of my hands and held them tightly in his. "I have strong feelings for you, Lulu."

I wanted to say, 'Not strong enough,' but we were going in the same circles we tended to spin in whenever we discussed our relationship. I needed to break the cycle. "I know. I don't hold anything against you. I've loved our time together and I hope I get to a point where I can look back on it without feeling sad."

We sat there for a few moments as it sunk in that there was nothing left to say. Then Shawn let go of my hands and stood up. "I'm going to my condo. I know that I should stay here because I'm contagious, but I can't do that. I'll triple mask and will avoid people if I see them in the hall."

I nodded because I understood why he was leaving. We couldn't spend four days in my tiny apartment with things the way they were now. He started packing, which hurt to watch, so I went out to the living room and held back my tears as I sat on my sofa. Inky snuggled against me and purred softly, and I welcomed her comfort.

When Shawn was done in my bedroom, he got his toiletries out of the bathroom and looked towards the kitchen. "Should I get the things that are mine? If you'll eat them, I'm happy to leave everything here."

I forced a weak smile. "I'm never going to drink your pond scum, so you should take that and anything else you'd like to eat."

Once he'd put everything gluten-free and vegan in a paper grocery bag, he approached me. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for," I assured him.

"That's not true. If I hadn't read your journal, we'd be watching a movie in bed right now."

I stood up and placed my hand on his cheek, which was quite hot. "Maybe, but at some point, whether it is tomorrow or in five months, we'd have gotten to where we are now. It's better this way. Can I convince you to take some Advil before you leave? Your fever is spiking."

"Yeah, maybe I should," he replied.

After he'd swallowed the meds with a big glass of water, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and took the grocery bag in one hand and his suitcase in the other. I walked him to the door and opened it. "Can we still talk?" he asked before crossing the threshold into the hall.

"I need some time," I told him. "Maybe eventually, but for now, I need a clean break."

He gulped. "Okay." Then he turned and left.

I closed the door and leaned against it. I waited there for over ten minutes, because a small pathetic part of me hoped he'd come back. Even if he did, we were doomed to fall apart down the road. Once I was positive he was gone for good, I went to my kitchen and rummaged through the fridge looking for something fattening shove in my mouth for consolation. Nothing appealed to me, so I fed Inky and went to my room and got ready for bed. I crawled under the covers and cried for god knows how long.

When I woke up the next morning, my pillow was soaked and my eyes were swollen shut.