20 ○ shawn

09

New York, 5:00 pm

February 6, 2015

reason #7: pursuing your dreams 

Shawn's face showed a mixture disgust and anger as he looked at his wall mirror, grimacing not at his body, but at himself. He was not over the fact that he completely flunked his Geometry test, in which he got the results back today. I'm a fucking failure. I'm not good at anything. My parents probably think I'm a mistake; I know I'm a mistake. 

He balled his hand into a fist and nearly punched the mirror, but with all the strength he had contained in him, he just shook his head and stormed out of his room, down the stairs and outside, to his car. He drove, to the abandoned building, where him and Layla were going to meet (once again) after a week of not seeing each other. 

He didn't want to show, but he also didn't want to ditch Layla. She had texted Shawn, saying that she was excited for the reason she had in stored for him today. And as much as Shawn wanted to text back 'I don't want to go', he didn't say anything and he found himself climbing the stairs, to the roof, where Layla was waiting.

The sky was slightly dark, since it was still considered Winter (although it didn't snow anymore), and the nights come earlier. 

"Good evening, Shawn! How was school?" Layla questioned as Shawn approached her, slightly confused as to why she had a guitar on the floor, beside where she was seated. He sat beside her, his mood drained at the mention of school. 

"Don't want to talk about it," Shawn muttered, not even looking at Layla. "Now, can we hurry this up?" He was in a really bad mood. 

Layla pursed her lip, her smile falling just a little bit, but she quickly regained herself. "Okay, reason number seven: pursuing your dreams!" She squealed, taking the guitar and handing it to Shawn. "Well, you told me that you liked singing and playing the guitar, so I assumed that maybe your dream would be a famous singer. And I used to learn how to play, so that's how I have the guitar, just in case you were wondering." 

Shawn scoffed, and although it was true (him being a famous singer), he wasn't in the mood of playing and singing. He shook his head, handing Layla the guitar. "No," 

"Come on, Shawn!" Layla refused to get the guitar. 

"Layla, no," 

"Please?"

"I don't want to do it. It'll hurt my fingers," 

Layla groaned. "You silly pessimist..." she mumbled. Shawn clenched his jaw, putting the guitar down before standing up from the ground quickly. He towered over Layla. 

"You know what, Layla? Yes, I know I'm a pessimist! I know that I don't see the good in everything like you do, and honestly, I don't care that I do! You've been pissing me the fuck off lately, and God, I wish that I never agreed to hearing your stupid reasons." Shawn yelled, quite harshly. 

Layla's smile completely fell from her face, and she stared up at Shawn, hurt in her eyes, as well as tears. She swallowed a lump in her throat, unable to say anything. But Shawn wasn't even finished. "You're nothing to me, Layla! Nothing but a damn distraction - someone to pass time with when there's nothing to do. So don't think you're helping me in any way; don't think you're so fucking special!"

Layla nodded and stood up from the ground, taking her guitar. She adjusted her glasses, not bothering to wipe the tears that had fallen from her eyes. "I'm sorry for wasting your time." she whispered, and nothing else, before walking away, breaking into a run as she went down the stairs. 

Shawn looked at the streets below, and he spotted Layla coming out of the abandoned building, wiping her cheeks and running, eventually going out of sight. 

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