You and Me, Forever

Met Gala [2]

Shawn knocked incessantly at the door, cursing under his breath when Camila didn't answer.

It had been fifteen minutes since he'd ran off the plane and took the first cab to her flat. It felt like hours of rapping against her front door with his knuckles clenched into a fish, hoping she'd open up. Now his desperation to see her and fix things has morphed into worry.

"Camila?" He called, wincing at his own voice's pitch. He had really taken the first flight to her place.. which just happened to be so late in the night it could be classified as early morning. He didn't want to disrupt the neighbors, but.. to be quite frank, he couldn't really give less of a fuck than he does now. All he cares about is her.

He sighed, leaning up against the door and lowering himself to the ground, trying to ignore how it smelt of Chinese take-out. He rested his head against the hardwood, and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he speaks remorsefully, voice soft and apologetic. "I shouldn't have said that or gone near her...never meant it, baby. Swear, I didn't do that to hurt you. I just- fuck," he sighed.

"I miss you. And I know you miss me, too, and that it's been months since we've properly seen each other, and I've been such a dick, but I was really hoping you'd be there. And I understand why you weren't there, and I should've handled it better.. I just miss you. It's always been you. Only you."

Camila leans against the corner of the wall before her apartment, watching Shawn intently. She wobbled a little, eyes slightly glazed over.

"Why-" she hiccuped (Shawn jumped at the sound of her voice, for a second questioning if it was the voice of God), "why're you talking to the door?"

"Camila," he sighed, inching towards her, jade eyes trailing over her. In seconds, he had her pressed to his chest, his hands holding onto her for life. Then, he noticed the slight wobble in her step, and hiccup in her voice.

"You're drunk," he breathed, pulling back to look into her eyes, concerned.

"You're Shawn," she whispered back, grinning slightly. He shook his head.

"It can't be safe to be out so late drunk..."

"You were," she stated, matter-of-factly.

"I know," he sighed again. Regret flashed in his eyes.

"You hurt me."

"I know. I'm so sorry, baby."

There were tears in his eyes.

"I'm sleepy," she murmured, falling against his chest. He smiled sadly down at her, pressing his lips to her forehead hesitantly, but pulling back faster than usual.

"Okay. Let's go. We'll talk in the morning."

He grabbed her keys, his hand at her lower back to help keep her balance as she muttered nonsensical things and he knew he was selfish to be grateful to have her like this, even after causing her pain.

"I really am sorry," he whimpered, after they both got inside the flat safely.

"I know," Camila sighed, flopping down onto her bed. "We can talk in the morning."

"In the morning?"

"In the morning. It'll be better then," she hummed, eyes bleary and tired, but voice certain. "I think we'll be okay."

And with that hope, Camila passes out. Shawn makes way with grabbing face wipes and a hair brush to help her sleep better. As he slips into bed, beside her at a respectable distance, he reaches for her hand and feels the gap in his chest momentarily close when her grip tightens on his.

I think we'll be okay.

_

ain't the best ending but at least it's fixed :)