honey

four

It was a whirlwind from the moment David walked into your door, volunteering to help you lug the bags and boxes in as an icebreaker. You were pretty sure moving two cities away and changing your number would've kept him away, but maybe not.

It was an eerie silence hanging over the room, the air extremely tense. You had nothing to say to him, but clearly he had some choice words. You were in such a good mood that you decided not to be normal you and at least try to listen to what he had to say.

He rested in the hall, uneasy and a lot more nervous than he let on, waiting for you to finish putting away your items. "You can sit you know. I threw out the blade after we split." You muttered, directing him into the living room with you.

"Thanks, that puts me at ease." He nodded in relief.

Your gut started knocking around, twisting in forms even acrobats couldn't do. You knew it was your instincts, telling you he's here under the wrong impression. When your gut talked, you alway listened because it never led you wrong. Even when you first began dating David, there was always something off-putting about him, but you swept it under the mat. Six months later, you were crying on your bed, smashing everything he owned that you hadn't yet flung out the window at him.

"Why are you here?" You sighed, finally breaking the silence.
"What do you mean? You invited me over." He snapped, standing back on his feet.
"Uh no I didn't," You were trying not to let your chuckles be heard, but that was impossible. There was no way you'd let him back into your life, let alone your home. "I don't even have your number."
"Then explain this." He says, shoving his phone into your hands.

Your eyes scan the screen, taking in every detail. You hadn't gotten drunk at all this week, so drunk texting was out the window. You check the timestamp, seeing the last text was sent 4 hours ago. Your eyes floated up towards the unsaved phone number and your hands curled tight around his phone, probably bending it with all the force you were putting on it.

"Shawn." You growl, shoving the phone into the couch. You were so mad you could scream.

"Who's Shawn?" David mutters, accepting defeat.
"A douchebag who's about to get his ass kicked. Get out." Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to throw something, hit something, physically do something to let this anger be freed.

"Can..can I help?" David pipes up, suddenly extremely interested in this.
"He's not gonna go for you, David. He's straight." Your eyes had a mind of their own, rolling whenever you heard the dumbest things now.
"You can never be sure, Y/N--"
"I'm sure of this..and I'm not even going to do anything anyways."

The look on David's face was a look of pure shock. For as long as he knew you--closing in on 5 years, now--he never knew you to turn down the chance to make someone pay. Never, not even with him. He admitted to himself a while ago, using you to get to your brother was low, but he expected more than just a stab in the stomach and some stitches in a clinic exam room. When you never tried to come for him again, he spent so much time wondering why, before realizing you were just like that, refusing to let someone drag you down.

He'd expected you to rage more than Aunt Flo does, ruining everything and everyone in sight, but when you shut your eyes and flickered your hands like blinking lights, he was in disbelief. You were back to normal a few seconds later, still glowing with distaste of course, but a lot less now.

"Wow, you've really changed." You shrug at his response, pressing his phone back into his palm.
"I guess...but you're free to go now. I don't really want company at the moment." Your hand gestures to the door and he begins walking backwards, searching for his keys in his coat pocket.