The Trilogy: Smuts & One-Shots

See Me-: Chris Evans

Y/n's Pov: PART ONE

    I have been pondering this for a while now. I love Chris, more than I have loved anything. I may only be 19, but I knew what love felt like and I only felt it for Chris. He felt the same, or so I thought he did anyway. It seemed that way, until he began liking pictures of his former co-star; wearing nothing but the tiniest bikini and lingerie. He was always surrounded by beautiful women. It was part of his job. I knew this, but I never paid attention to his eyes. I ignored it for a while. They'd follow the trail of every piece or lack thereof fabric that was tightly fitted around their body. His hands would be low on their waist in pictures.

    How could he want me when he has so many options? More beautiful, sexier, and taller... I know he prefers them over me. I let it pass for a while. Telling myself it's just my chronic anxiety and overthinking issues I have, but this; this is real. He wants them. He wants her. The fucking half naked attress that's always seems to be on his instagram feed.

    I sat at my desk. Tears rolling down my face, painfully leaving my body as my heart fragments into a million different pieces. Shards of my heart leave my body with each tear that rushes down my face.

    "I can't do this." I say to myself, "I can't leave him." I shake my head. "The women, the fucking women. The way his eyes light up when they're in revealing dresses. Remember what you're doing this for. Fuck." I think out loud. I'm not doing this for myself, this is for Chris. Right?

    I raise my head. Straightening my posture with the false confidence I'm putting on for myself; building up the courage. I open my desk. The squeaking noise sends a pain to my chest that cascades down to the pit of my stomach.

    "I can't believe I'm doing this." I whisper.

    My hands force themselves to the papers that are neatly stacked in the drawer. My fingers are barely able to grip a pen in between them. I can't control my own arms anymore. My mind is telling me to stop but I can't. And so I wrote:

    Chris,

    I love you. I really do. I just can't shake this feeling that you want someone else. I watch you silently as you like your co-stars' pictures, wearing only bikinis. I look at you while you're looking at someone else. It seems you're the only person in my sight, but you see everyone else but me. You look at them differently. You look at her differently. I'm holding you back Christopher. I'm setting you free. You can have anyone you want now. I'll be gone before you get home. So I'll leave you with this, the time we spent together was amazing; when I was the only one you wanted. It was precious, when I was the only girl you saw. It was perfect, when I was enough.

    Goodbye Chris.

I continue to sit there, staring at a life changing letter that's burning a hole in my desk. Creating a fire through Chris' Boston home that was once our Boston home. Ropes of memories flood my body as if it were smoke, filling my lungs; killing me. This is it. I have to leave now or else I never will.