You and Me, Forever

What It's Like Without You

Disclaimer: THIS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME

This is a converted imagine off of Tumblr. All credit goes to owner/ writer.

Link of the original imagine: https://shawnjpeg.tumblr.com/post/180237583460/i-dont-know-what-its-like

***

The tension in the room grows thicker with every word, ever moment of silence and every breath. Their lips quivering, trembling from anger, hands shaking from frustration, curling into fists and nails digging into their own palms.

Eyes flooded with anger and annoyance tear away from each other, not wanting the other to believe it's a look of disgust.

Camila stands on one side of the window, the night light darkening their moods, dampening the atmosphere further. She picks at the dirt in her nails, attempting to distract herself from the pain of the nail marks in the soft skin of her palms. The coldness in her body is amplified by her bare legs exposed to the cool air in the panties she sports. She lifts her hands, running them through her hair.

She glances at Shawn, standing on the other side of the bed. One looks into his stormy eyes and she is washed over with the matter at hand, fueling the fire flaming inside of her.

"You're seriously going to be pissed at me? For going out with my friends?" Camila hisses out, her voice quiet, eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the blaze inside her from growing - from destroying.

A sharp, rough voice cuts into the attempt of growing calmness in her mind, "I'm saying that I'm not here and when I am, you're leaving!" His voice contrasts her, louder than the quiet she tried to invite into the room.

It bursts, oxidizing the flame more, making her explode, "What do you expect? That when you fucking decide to come home, I put my life on hold? I am not something you fucking own, Shawn! I'm not going to be a fucking pet and follow your orders on command!"

"I'm just asking for my girlfriend to stay in, and I don't know, do the normal things that couples do: spent time with me!" Shawn argues, fingers scratching at his scalp. Camila snaps her eyes open, aggressive emotions in her enhanced, prompted by his words.

"You're the one with the job that doesn't require you to travel, Shawn! Not me! So, you cannot be angry with me for wanting to go out and have a life!"

"So now you have a problem with what I do? Why're you even here, then, huh? Why don't you just fuck off to your friends because you don't seem them at all, do you?" her boyfriend sarcastically mocks.

"Oh, fuck you, Shawn – I'm not the one going to New York and then drinking instead of coming home and spending time with me, your family!"

"You know what? You're right! You're fucking right because you're so selfish to want to see the bigger picture! Fuck it, I'm leaving," he concludes, feet taking off in the direction out of the house.

Camila doesn't follow. She absolutely will not follow him. Her anger begins to settle the moment she hears the door slam shut. It settles because grief takes over, making her heart mourn.

Camila stares at the spot Shawn was in. Her eyes are stinging as pitiful tears well up. The room is colder without him, she can feel the cold piercing through her skin. The hot tears fall onto the goosebumps cascading up and down her legs and arms, burning into her skin and fusing with the sadness strengthening.

She lifts her finger and bites onto it, her ego too in the way of her wanting to cry. She will not let herself have that outlet because she fucking made Shawn leave. He didn't leave. She made him. The damage is done and she hears the small call for help escape her lips.