Shawn's POV:
Scoffing, I shove aside one of the many boxes of romance books y/n left behind, trying to figure out what to do with her stuff that was left in my attic.
While I'm going through dusty memories of my previous relationship's past, Ian stands at the door, his sympathy for me filling the room, making me cringe at the mental pity I'm most likely receiving.
"Pathetic isn't it?" I let out a strained laugh and look back as I'm hunched over, a small lump gathering in my throat.
"Sad really," this subject always being the clown in the room no one acknowledges, he stares at the floor, not exactly sure how to handle my pain, "sad that you still kept all this...junk."
Feeling personally offended by his dissing of something my girlfriend previously loved reading, using the word "junk" I immediately jump to her defense.
"She loved these!" I stand up straight and motion to the box, "she'd be in bed and she'd get so into the characters and compare them to how her and I used to be, and god I-I just couldn't get enough Of it because even when she was mad she'd be reading those damn books, and hell they were better comfort than I was."
It's only then when I take a breath do I realize that there are tears streaming down my face, and my hands are in fists, and now that I've started venting I can't stop.
"A-and she'd be constantly buying them and buying them and I'd read to her and she could be in the middle of a chapter and I would have no idea what was going on but I'd still read and she'd fall asleep and that last night I saw her it was this book-"
I drop to my knees and fish out her diary that she left behind, whether it was on accident or she wanted me to have it, I show off its worn cover.
"It was this, that was left in her drawers and nothing else and sometimes she'd even read this after she wrote an entry and she thought I never knew what she loved, or her hobbies, or what she had passion in but I could describe what she's like when she's happy and picture it with my eyes closed but Ian-"
His face isn't readable, but he hasn't stopped me from my breakdown.
"She thought I didn't care," crying turns to sobs and next thing I know I'm clutching the book, "I have to live with the fact that the person I love left thinking I didn't care and everything in me has been screaming at me to read her thoughts, her-her art! Not what other authors have written about their fictional love but what she wrote about herself, about our love."
I take a breath to calm down, and I set the book back in its box and slowly as I rise to my knees, I begin to get a feeling of shame, that I'm still talking about her.
"But Shawn," confusion rushes over Ian's face, "how come you haven't read it?"
I close my eyes and wipe the drying tears, preparing myself to answer the very same question I've been asking myself.
"Because I don't need too," I'm mumbling but it's so quiet up in this attic I know he can hear, "I was here for the joy, and when we had fights I talked her through everything, and all that's left to read is pain, and I don't like hearing about pain."
"I know her like the palm of my hand, she thought I had to read about the woman that she was and to give into that horrible thing that she wants is like ruining myself. I remember all the small things in our relationship, the late night dancing, eating tubs of ice cream, I remember the small traditions."
"So you want to look back and see happiness?" Ian shifts, trying to take all that I said in.
"I won't let her words that speak levels of pain ruin the happiness I hold onto."
____________________________~confusing?
Yes.
But you all can guess what song this was based off of.
Literally I'm so sorry for the non active nature of my account but I needed an update and I've been super into the Shawn POVs and that must get annoying.
I MISSED YOU ALL!!
~leah
