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zankivich · 5 years

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Neighbors: Shawn x Plus Size Reader Chapter 16

a/n: this felt good to write. It feels like a natural progression. it’s a lot of y/n and a lot of internal reflection. I hope you like that. I hope that it’s worth it in the end. I really tried to do them justice.

Warnings: some really sad, angst smut. some internal reflection on past traumas. mentions of alcoholism.

*y/n point of view*

“W--What?” He whispered. “Wait, what?”

“Shawn I--”

“Not right now! I just need a minute okay?!”

You listen to him to shuffle around probably in order to find a place to be alone. This definitely isn’t how you thought about telling the news. In fact you weren’t quite sure you’d ever share it with him at first. But, now he’s here offering you everything you ever wanted...at least up until twenty-four hours ago. And you can’t help but feel like it’s too late.

“Listen, I know I fucked up. I know I fucked up worse than anyone ever could but...we’re us! I can’t even imagine us not finding our way back to each other. There’s so much for us to talk about, and I have so much to make up for...Just let me come home and we can talk and--”

“There is no home anymore.” You interject.

You can hear his heart accelerating. This was usually the point where you reached for his hands to still them. He just happens to be on a different continent at the moment.

“Y/n what are you saying? Of course there is. We’re neighbors. We--We have each other’s keys.”

“I’m moving out of my apartment.” You blurted.

“You’re moving?” He gasped, voice a little shallower, a little more wet. “Honey you--you don’t need to do that. Please, don’t do that. I know that I hurt you and I’m so unbelievably--”

“It’s not about you. Well, I guess maybe it kind of is, but not like that. Gina offered me a six month sabbatical. She’s gonna let me keep my salary, and I basically just get to travel the world I guess? Do some soul searching? I don’t know I’ve never really gone to many places besides Canada. Till I met you. This is my chance. To get a clean break, to figure out who the hell I want to be.”

You know it sounds like it’s a clean break from him, but it really isn’t. Or maybe it is. There’s far too many details for you to have it all figured out.

“That is...That’s so beautiful. I’m happy for you. It’s uh--it’s what you deserve.” He mumbled. “What does that mean then. For you and me.”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

“I think it means that...I’m gonna do my thing, and you’re gonna do yours.”

It sounded so much easier said than done. It sounded as if you hadn’t spent the past month crying over him, like your whole world hadn’t shattered the moment he left you.

“But I--I haven’t been able to breathe since you left.”

There’s a small part of you that finds comfort in his struggle. Not maliciously. But the break up had killed you in a way that no other moment in your life had ever quite accomplished. You felt like a little kid again, when everything that happened was the most important thing to ever happen. Shawn had made you feel like the world could be so much better than you ever thought. He had made you feel happy and special and important and sexy and everything that only you had been able to make yourself feel so long. And when he was gone, all of your training on how to do it yourself was gone. You felt shallow. Lost. Broken. Knowing that it might be possible that he felt the same way made you feel a little less crazy, if only a little.

“I wish that I could allow that to matter right now. I want that to matter but...I don’t think it’s healthy for me to put you first right now. And I don’t think it’s healthy for you to do it either.”

“But you’re...you’re my best friend. I love you so much.” He sniffled.

You closed your eyes as the tears found their way to you again. It’d been weeks and still you couldn’t control it.

“I love you too.” You sighed through the tears. “But maybe we need to learn how to do it on our own for a little while. Maybe that’s what you wanted when you left me and you just didn’t know how to say it.”

He’s silent for a long time. And you don’t know what to say so you stay silent too. It still hurts. There’s still a festering deep inside that you don’t know what to do with. And you don’t want to hate him because he means too much for that. So all you can do is hope and pray that he lets you do this, because it might be the only way to salvage your memories of him.

“Can I ask you something?” Shawn asked, voice soft and withdrawn.

You nodded as if he could see you.

“Yea.”

“Did you take your necklace off?”

It feels left field at first. You peer down at your neck where the swallow still is, and you think maybe you know what he’s getting at.

“No, I didn’t.”

He took a deep breath and let it go, voice a little lighter.

“Okay. Okay, if this is what you need then of course. I’d be a piece of shit to try and stop you. Whenever you’re ready just come find me. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

“Shawn what if--”

He interrupts you this time. “I’ll wait as long as you need, y/n. You’re all I’ve got to wait for.”

It’s final. He’s not willing to discuss it, and a part of you can’t help but want the security of hoping that he’ll still be there no matter what.

“Just don’t...don’t cancel your fucking tour idiot.” You huff. “You love music more than anything.”

“Not quite.” He admitted softly. “Not anymore.”

There’s another weighted silence between the two of them. Another round of having so many things that you want to say to someone, and there just not being enough time.

“I’m gonna go now. Congrats on the show tonight...you looked good.”

You can practically feel him smile. “You watched it?”

“I did. Good night, Shawn.”

“Good night, y/n.”

***

The first place that you fly to is coincidentally Italy. After a little research, it seemed to be a good time of year, less touristy, and you actually had some pretty good flyer miles after all the trips to see Shawn. You rent a small little place on airbnb near the water and it’s literally just you, just you and yourself and no one else. Sure, it wasn’t that different than life before your relationship, but in the aftermath of the break up it felt like a completely foreign concept. You woke up and the day was yours. There were no projects, no phone calls to be made, no marketing meetings or logistics. The most complicated part of your day was whether or not you were going to go down to the beach in a bikini or not. The answer was, abso-fucking-lutely you were.

There’s sunshine and warmth and so much fucking food everywhere. And you’re alone. And that’s okay. It needs to be.

At first it’s all about filling your day with things. You try out five different restaurants, go to three bars, and find a place to get gelato in between. All in one day. You post pictures on instagram with your tits out on full display in a bikini that was sure to make the masses upset, and you just didn’t care. You weren’t doing it for anyone, but yourself. It was your body and your happiness and you were responsible for both. At the end of the day you’d get back to the villa and pass out immediately. But, it meant you weren’t thinking, weren’t reveling, weren’t hurting. Or, so you thought.

You visit Rome, Venice, Florence, and Milan. You’re sitting on another beach somewhere with your toes in the sand and your body wet and warm on a towel when your phone starts to vibrate.

Shawn: Can we talk right now? Need to tell you something.

y/n: I suppose so.

“Hi.” He murmured softly.

And there it was. That thing in your tummy, whether it was a tightening of the muscles, or a flipping of your internal organs. It was a feeling that no one but him could ever make you feel with such ease.

“Hi.”

“You’re in Italy.” He noted. “It looks beautiful. I’ve always wanted to vacation there sometime.”

“How’d you know?”

“Oh you uh...your insta. All the pictures of the--the you know, sites and what not.”

You snorted and let your head nestle back into the comfort of your towel.

“Yes the sites. Surely this has nothing to do with the bikini pic I posted this morning.”

“Bikini, aye? No I guess I missed that one. Must be the timezones. I’m sure you look incredible though. Probably even breathtaking if I were to see it. Which, I have not yet.”

It is incredible how easy it is for the two of you. How quickly you can just fall into that comfort. He had really become your best friend more than anything, more than a lover even. When shit happened to you whether it was good or bad, you could never think of anyone else to talk to. Shawn was always your person. And that’s a hard habit to break.

“Okay big guy, why don’t you tell me what it is you need from me.”

“Right. Well I uh I’ve been writing a lot lately. And uhm, it’s been really helping me in terms of getting through the tour and trying to reestablish some of the passion that I felt like I lost.”

“Well that’s great. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Sure, I guess. Thank you. The uh label wants to do a few releases while I’m on tour. The way music is being released in the digital spotify age now is so incredibly competitive that artists are kind of heading in the direction of having singles between albums.We can thank Ariana for that.”

You smiled softly. “I’m sure there’s a point in here somewhere.”

“Yes. It’s just that...all the songs that I’ve written are completely and totally about you and for you. And I know you’re in Italy and you might be going somewhere else soon, but I didn’t want the first time you here these lyrics to be on the radio somewhere. I wanted it to be because I shared them with you.If you’re willing. If you want to hear them.”

It’s a lot to ask, which definitely explains him wanting to call. In all of your time traveling you had yet to actually sit down and think through some of the hurt that Shawn had left you with. You hadn’t even begun to touch the whole, “is he the one thing”. The fear was that by listening to these songs it might set you back in your healing, in your ability to move on. If that was in fact what you were doing.

“I--I don’t know. Are they sad?” You mumbled.

He chuckled. “Well, If I Can’t Have You was originally a ballad with a super dramatic piano. I think I might have played it that night I called you? It was a lot sadder then. Teddy helped turn into what I’m being told is a ‘summer bop’. I’ve got both versions if you want to hear them”

“Will either of them help me understand you more?”

The real question of course being was it ever going to explain how he could be supposedly in love with her, and then drop her like a bad habit all at once.

He paused. “I’ll answer any question you have, honey. You know that.”

Yea. No thanks.

“‘M not ready.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s okay. I can be okay with that.How about I send you the files in an email and you just...just listen whenever you want. If you want. I’ll send you the release dates too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Well uh… I guess that’s all I had to say.”

“Goodbye Shawn.”

You tossed your phone into your beach bag and close your eyes stubbornly. You really needed to get him off your mind.

***

Your birthday finds you getting a deep tissue massage that is the most action you’ve gotten since leaving for the damn trip. It’s an insignificant birthday and you had been traveling so much that it doesn’t feel all that special in the grand scheme of things. You reply to the birthday texts. Do a facetime call with Stu so he knows you’re still alive. You get day drunk and walk through old cobble stoned streans looking at beautiful buildings and not having to say a word to anyone, because they wouldn’t even understand you if you tried. It’s lovely. Shawn doesn’t call and it’s fine. You’re fine.

There’s a beautiful restaurant that sits on the edge of a hill right where the sun melts into the earth as it sets. You feel oddly at peace as you eat, your sixth glass of wine from the day twirling in your fingers when your phone goes off.

Shawn: Hey?

y/n: Yea?

Shawn: I just wanted to say happy birthday. I planned on calling but I think you’re like 10 hours ahead of me right now and I’m stuck on vocal rest. I also didn’t really know if you’d want me to.

It soothes a broken part of you that thought that he’d forgotten. After All you’d never actually gotten to spend a birthday with him since you’d met in the fall. A part of you wants to cry a little bit, but you’re not drunk enough to be that honest with yourself.

y/n: No worries. You don’t owe me anything.

Shawn: Yea, well I never needed to owe you anything, I just always wanted to give you everything. I’m sorry we’re not spending this day together. It would’ve meant a lot to me to celebrate you.

y/n: yea. Probably would’ve been fun. We always knew how to party.

Shawn: I got you a present months ago but I can’t send it to your apartment anymore obviously, and I didn’t know what part of the world you would be in. Maybe you’ll let me give it to you someday.

He sends you a picture of this book. It’s got no words on the front, just a pretty smooth cover. It isn’t until he describes it to you that your whole world falls apart. He’d somehow managed to scrape together the recipe for every single thing you’d ever made together, or for him, and had someone make it into an actual book. It was literally a story of your relationship and your love through the thing that mattered to you most. He had left some empty pages in the hope that you would continue it together. And that just stung worse than anything.

The waiter sends you a very worried glance as you begin to sob over your pasta. But really, what else was the alternative? What other result could there have been?

Y/n: well shit Shawn. That’s really fucking sweet. I’m sobbing over my bolognese.

Shawn: I never wanted to make you cry. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy. I love you. I know it’s not fair right now. But it’s my truth.

Y/n: I know, Shawn. I know.

Shawn: I didn’t mean to mess with you on your birthday. We can talk another time. Just have fun alright? Buy a round on me okay?

Y/n: I’ll do my best. Bye Shawn.

Shawn: Bye.

He venmos you enough to buy a round for a whole damn bar. You try not to think about how much it hurts when you find a place to take a shot. You try not to think about him at all.

***

You’re drunk. You’re in a foriegn city that is so beautiful it hurts and your body is full of alcohol. You kind of want a french fry. There’s man on the dance floor who’s been eyeing you all night and it hasn’t even occurred to you to give him the time of day. Even now, right now, if it weren’t for how good the music was you probably would’ve gone home. But instead you let him buy you a drink. And you let him take you on the dance floor. He’s good with his hips and he’s good at manipulating your body. It’s fun.

You’re wearing a dress that stops mid thigh and he tugs at the fabric as you grind to the beat. You’re not sure where the cut off is, where it goes from being dancing and fun to this level of discomfort. Perhaps it’s when your mind sends you an image of Shawn at New Year’s doing the cabbage patch for you. Perhaps it was the reminder than no one but Shawn had touched your body in months, and that you have been so fucking okay with that fact. For whatever reason you pull away from the guy and stumble home with tears of frustration, bitterness, and a little hurt in your eyes. You’re still not processing. You’re deflecting.

In your bed that night you can’t help but reach for the phone, your fingers doing things that a sober you hopefully would’ve known better about. But in the moment your fingers are tugging at this thong that Shawn had pulled off with his teeth once and when it comes to wanting and longing, he’s the only one that you can find yourself reaching for.

“Y/n? Sweetheart it’s two oclock in the morning.” Shawn groaned across the line. “What’s wrong?”

You peer over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Wherever he is, you’re in the same time zone oddly enough. Maybe it was fate instead of a stupid ass drunken decision.

“I can’t fuck anyone else.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry?”

“I can’t...I can’t even think about the prospect of sex without your big fucking head in the picture.”

You giggle a little to yourself fingers probing gently at your entrance. He was silent for a long while, long enough for your drunk mind to startle when he finally speaks.

“Were you...was there someone?” He asks quietly.

You roll your eyes up at the ceiling. “No. Just some guy I danced with for a song or two.I don't even remember what he looked like.”

He takes a deep breath and you wonder aimlessly what the hell you would do if he fucked someone else. How that might make you feel. You’d rather just fuck him instead.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve been drinking. Are you somewhere safe?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

“I’m in my hotel room, honey. It’s the middle of the night.”

Men. So naive.

“I miss you.” You hinted.

“I miss you too, y/n. So much.”

Your thighs clenched in agitation and you huffed up at the ceiling.

“No Shawn. I miss you. Please try to keep up here.”

It takes him a minute.

“Oh...oh. I don’t know about that. You’ve been drinking.”

“Have you ever known me to do something that I don’t want to do?” You asked him. “I’m consenting, Shawn.”

“I--I know I just...I don’t want you to ever regret us. Or anything that we’ve done. I’ve made such a mess of things, y/n. And I really, really want to be able to fix them. I love you.”

You’re not exactly in a talking mood. This isn’t about anything more than the fact that you need to get off and for whatever horrid reason, he’s the only one you can do that with. There’s still something ugly and mean in your heart. And you’ve not yet reached a place where anything positive is going to come out of this.

“Look, this is a virtual booty call. Nothing more, nothing less. Either you can do the one thing that you’ve never hurt me with, or I can go to bed a little frustrated. It’s up to you.”

It’s manipulative. You’re tapping into his incessant need to make you happy, and also into this very wounded part of himself that knew that he’d failed you, knew that he’d done something wrong. None of this is healthy. None of this is okay. But you don’t care. You just want to get off, and yea maybe you wouldn’t mind if it hurt him a little bit too.

“Okay. Okay, what do you want me to do?” He whispered.

“I want you to touch yourself.” You hum fingers dipping into your core where you’re already wet and needy. “Just like I am.”

There’s something about it being something that you’ve never done before that makes it feel not as wrong. Shawn was a little skittish about saving anything to his phone, so sexting and phone sex had never gone on the table. Tonight you’re just tapping into the ability to make each other feel something, to make each other reach heights that no one else can.

“I miss stroking you,” You admit softly.

He sighed. “Really?”

“Yea. You always get hard so quickly for me. I just have to trace my finger over that one vein and your thigh always twitches. Is it twitching now?”

His voice is a little lighter.

“Y--Yea.”

“Do you miss my mouth on you?”

“God, y/n. Of course I do. No one’s ever sucked me off like you before. You take me so good.”

You bite your lip to stifle the moans and it’s only because he’s not there to make you be loud, to tug at your lip with his thumb as he pounds you. But then you remember the reason he’s not there and it’s like starting all over again.

“Want you to touch me.” you mumbled trying to clear your mind. “What would you do?”

Shawn at first glance was the adorable puppy dog type. That surely didn’t translate to the bedroom. He had said some of the filthiest things to you with a single curl hanger over his eye and no one, not even his fans who seemed to know where he was at every waking moment, was around to witness it. Even now, with all of the distance--both physical and emotional--between you, he can still get you going immediately.

“I guess I’d just want to eat you out. I love the way that you taste. And the way you always coat my mouth with your juices. I just...fucking love pleasing you. Nothing gets me harder than when you grind against my face and make yourself cum.”

Your back arches and you groan out into your hotel room.

“God when you bump your nose against my clit, it drives me crazy. And when you suck on my thighs?”

“Fuck. Love marking you up. I miss the way you cry out for me when I make you squirt. Have you squirted since we made love last?”

You bit your lip an upset feeling hitting your stomach that you couldn’t rationalize, couldn’t understand. So you just tried to make it go away.

“No. No one makes me squirt like you.”

“Miss you.” He whined, voice breathy and desperate. “Miss the way you clench around me when I’m inside you.”

Your fingers speed up on your clit, your hips buck a little bit. He’s getting you there already and it’s wild.

“Fuck, Shawn!”

“Are you close?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Yea. Fuck baby I wish you were here.”

“Shut up. Not now. Just make me cum.”

Your words both turn to pants as you grunt and cry out for one another. Your orgasm builds in your toes and ripples through your entire body. It’s the first orgasm you’ve had since Amsterdam. For a moment it’s just the two of you trying to catch your breath. You’re drunker than you were an hour ago. There’s no doubt. He makes you fucking crazy.

“Y/n...What was that?” Shawn mumbled.

“I don’t know. I--I don’t know. I gotta go. Good night.”

***

There’s a bad taste in your mouth when you wake up the next day. Part of it is whatever the hell you drank the night before, which was quite frankly a little hazy. But, there’s something else there too. And you’re not even sure what it is at first. You’re naked in bed and the sun shines in through the windows so you dive under the covers to get away from it. And that’s where your phone is. That where it all sort of falls apart.

Shawn: Hey I’m sure you’re still asleep but I can’t really get this off my mind and I just needed to be honest with you.

Shawn: I can’t do that, whatever that was last night, again. Idk why but it just made me feel weird. I kinda feel like maybe you were using me or trying to get back at me? Which I guess I deserve

Shawn: I know I fucked everything up. The thing is is that I love you. I never stopped. And I don’t think I ever could. So just go figure your shit out. However long that takes, and I’ll be here waiting. But we probably shouldn’t talk for a while. I think it could help us both. I love you honey. So much. Have a great rest of your trip.

Your heart drops to your stomach as all the memories come rushing back. And it wasn’t just him being able to make you cum at all. It was his hesitance. It was the intimate sharings of your thoughts and feelings for him when your relationship was in such disarray. You told him things that night that had never come up, and he offered you the same. It wasn’t the right space, and yet you had given him an ultimatium as if him having phone sex with you would help anything. He seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. Somehow you had hurt the both of you last night and you had nothing to show for it. If Shawn was willing to go without speaking though it meant you had truly, deeply hurt him. You had thought that might help make you feel better, but it had the opposite effect of course.

You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything. And you can only hope that that doesn’t hurt him even more.

***

You take a ferry to Barcelona. And listen to Ed Sheeran’s Barcelona far too long. You spend a long time looking at the water and applying sunscreen and trying to remember another time in your life where you felt so out of touch. In college you had been entirely school focused, except for all the drunk shenanigans you and Stu would get up to. And then it had been the career and making yourself stable enough to never have to return home. Somewhere along the line after one too many assholes, you had stopped trying to find a relationship entirely. So you did hook ups, you did casual sex, and that was it. And that had been perfectly fine.

The problem with Shawn was that he had created a need in your heart that you weren’t prepared for. His yearning to know you in all of your complexities, to be there for you, to support you. No one had ever offered that before. And it wasn’t that you’d grown used to it necessarily, but dammit you had begun to try. It just so happened that for every wall he knocked down, there were five more already up and at attention. You weren’t perfect by any means. You were honestly probably a little fucked in the head. But you loved him. You had given in at some point. And he let you down. So, why in the entire hell should you allow him the opportunity to do it again?

There seemed to be a part of you that was jumping up and down and screaming, “I told you so!”. It hurt. It hurt so bad. You kept reliving the moment when it connected for you. When you realized that he was leaving you, he was just too much of a coward to say it out loud. You weren’t good enough. Not for Shawn. Maybe not for anyone long term. The thing that you had known all along from the beginning had come true with such startling reality. You had just been beginning to let go. You weren’t sure that you could do that again.

You stay at this beautiful bed and breakfast type place that was nestled right in the heart of the city where all of the museums and the shops were. You visit the La Boqueria, this large market that seemed to serve anything known to human. You spent an entire afternoon at one of the bars drinking and watching the locals. It was revitalizing in a way.You read books and sit in cafes and look at the architecture of everything around you. It’s all sort of beautiful and historical and vastly different than home. It’s perfect there.

It’s at one of the cafes that you meet her. You’re sitting there in a crop top and shorts reading a book when she comes over to you. She’s got a headscarf on that is this brilliant shade of red and gold. Her skin is a rich bronzed color that is elevated by a full face of makeup with a highlight that could cut stone. She’s maybe one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen in your life. And she walks up to you of all fucking people. Needless to say you’re a little tongue lied.

“You are American no?” She asked.

“Uhhh...no. No actually I’m Canadian. We’re the nicer versions.”

She giggled. You smiled.

You hadn’t stumbled across many people who spoke english. So you welcomed anyone willing to pity you with a conversation.

“Canadian. Ah, okay. Well, Canadian girl, I cannot help but notice how sad you look. What’s wrong with you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well damn, is it that obvious?”

“I would say yes. Can I sit?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s already sitting across from you. In canada, you could offer someone a seat and they’d apologize before sitting down. What a culture shock.

“I’m sorry. You are one of the most beautiful humans I’ve ever seen, and I’ve apparently been to the grammys. However, I’m a little confused as to what I can do for you?”

She smiled again. “Why thank you! My friend from the UK sent me a fenty highlighter. They’re not available here yet. Does Riri not know that I need to sparkle? Anyway I’m not sure you can do anything for me. I think it may be what I can do for you. So, what can I do for you?”

“I’m...confused.”

“My grandmother grew up here. I used to spend my summers with her until I moved here entirely to take care of her. My mama, she would always say, sometimes there is a need that cannot be seen, cannot be named, but it can be felt. And when you feel it, you must give into it. It is the only way to fix the issue. I feel your need, Canadian girl. I am here to help.”

“Y/n. My name is y/n.” You snorted softly.

“Y/n, I am Priyanka. Girl you should, as the internet tells me, spill the tea.”

Oh lord.

You peered at her in caution. She didn’t scream crazy fangirl, but that certainly didn’t mean anything. She seemed to be in touch with popular culture enough to know who Shawn was. You could only imagine flying back home only to find out that you had accidentally aired all of your dirty laundry directly to the tabloids. But also, she was kind of nice. And still startlingly gorgeous. And there really couldn’t be a ton of pressure there, because you didn’t know her at all. What was the worst that she could do? Leave the table and judge you only for you to never see her again? You had gone at this trip to find some healing, to hopefully recenter yourself a little bit. How could you manage that without a little effort?

And so you tell her. Not that you were kinda sorta dating Shawn Mendes, but that you were dating a guy in the industry whose job was very demanding, as was yours. It is the first time you’ve ever laid it all out word for word, and it’s kind of exhausting to share. But, it also takes a little weight off your shoulders. She doesn’t look at you like you’re crazy after all, which makes it go down a lot smoother.

“So he loves you? But he breaks up with you...because he loves you so much?” She asked. “That is pretty dumb.”

You threw your hands up in excitement.

“Exactly! That is exactly what I said!”

“But, he has come back to you. He has apologized. He has told you that he loves you and only you, that you are the love of his life. Yet you are in Barcelona. How come?”

You felt your excitement fade away and your face scrunch up slightly.

“Well… I can’t just take him back.”

She tilted her head. “Why not?”

“Because! Because he--he hurt me. If I take him back he could hurt me again.”

“But isn’t that what love is? Taking the chance that you may end up hurt, but doing it anyway? You have to put trust in him, to believe that even though he could hurt you that he won’t.”

“Isn’t that just allowing him the opportunity to hurt me again? Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me?”

She shrugged. “People always have the ability to hurt us. But if you close yourself off and never open yourself up again, how can you expect anything to change?”

“So you think I should go back to him?” You asked.

“That is not my decision to make. But what if he is this so called love of your life, and you refusing him because of an act of desperation that somewhat had good intentions hurt you? What if you’re throwing something good away?”

You had a feeling Priyanka and Shawn would have gotten along wonderfully. They were both people who viewed the cup as half full while you couldn’t ever seem to get over all the empty space. It was quite exhausting to ever try and prove them wrong either. Optimism. In this economy? Can you imagine?

“I don’t know.” You mumbled to yourself playing with the edges of your book. “I love him. Of course I love him. How could I not? I think I’m just afraid that if I let myself love him the way that he wants, the way that he deserves that...it’s gonna go wrong somewhere. I’ve never ever had it not go wrong.”

“That’s okay. That’s a real emotion. You get hurt enough times, you want to protect yourself. I’m just saying in this particular instance you might not need protecting.” She shrugged. “In fact, you know what? He might fuck up again. Men are dumb, we know this. It might all fall to crap a week from now, a year from now, three years from now. Who’s to say? But I guess the question is, is it worth it to enjoy the good times and to put a little belief in yourself and in your relationship?”

At the end of the conversation, your head hurt a little bit and your heart throbbed dully in your chest. Usually you would’ve crawled into Shawn’s arms and hid your face in his chest, the gentle hum of his heart beat lulling you into serenity. He would play with your hair and he would whisper/sing into your ear. He would tell you that he loved you, or that you were pretty, or whatever other ridiculous things came out of that man’s mouth on a daily basis. It was another one of those times where you were in pain; you were sad, and you couldn’t have the one person who knew how to make it all better. Suddenly you missed him more than ever. And even in Barcelona, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, you ached for home. For him.

Dammit.

***

Priyanka takes you to buy a journal. Apparently you’re friends now? Or at least she’s taking pity on you. She explained that for someone so angsty who internalized everything you should probably have a place to release or you were sure to explode. She didn’t seem to recognize that that might be mean so you just rolled with the punches. She takes you to the beach and you lay out in the sun together while she forces you to write about yourself. It is about as fun as one might imagine.

“What the fuck am I supposed to write about?” You huffed glaring at the blank page before you.

She snorted and reset her headscarf which was a gorgeous teal color today that blended perfectly into her bathing suit.

“Anything. Just make it personal. Why don’t you pick something you’ve never talked to anyone about and start there. You don’t need to be scared at all because it’s just who gets to read it.”

You were for certain Priyanka had stumbled into your life only to make it more difficult. She seemed to thrive on it actually. But, then again here you were taking life advice from a practical stranger anyway.

You decide to start with the first time you recognized that being fat was a bad thing. It was a visceral memory, one that you didn’t bring up too often, but one that had been instrumental to the woman you had grown to become. It was third grade. You had just turned eight. Your dad had been gone for three months, and your mom had started letting you help her in the kitchen after school. All of your brothers would go outside and play hockey with the kids across the street, or basketbal, or whatever other dumb game with a ball existed. You hated it. You just wanted to sit inside with your mom and make something.

You brought homemade cupcakes for your birthday. And you were so incredibly proud because you had helped make them! These were the product of your labor. But when it came time to eat and celebrate, Jenna Bartman came up to you to get her cupcake and laughed at you. Y/n you should probably give all the cupcakes away. Everyone knows you’ve eaten plenty. And all of the kids still left in the line laughed with her. You peered down at your tummy and it didn’t look like Jenna’s, didn’t look like most of the other girls in the class. You didn’t bake for an entire year after that. It didn’t mean you didn’t eat, you still snuck cookies from the jar up into your room when your brother wasn’t there to see you. But it was the first time that you had ever been told that what you were was bad, that you shouldn’t get to exist in the manner that made you most happy if it made others uncomfortable.

Fast forward to eighteen years old. Your first boyfriend in highschool. If you could even call him that. He didn’t want anyone at school to know that you were together. And he would only come over when your brothers weren’t around, which meant spending a lot of time in the garage. Not very sexy.

You had decided that you were comfortable and willing to have sex for the first time. You were going to go over to his place after school. His parents were gone and everything. The second that you got up to his room though, he closed all of the blinds and shut the lights off. C’mon babe. We don’t need to see all that. Let’s just do it already. The least enthusiastic five minutes of your life. You’d never told anyone that story before. Not stu. Not even Shawn.

And then there was your transformation in college. You excelled in your major, held the top GPA and graduated with departmental honors. You started to believe in your abilities, in this tiny vision that you created for yourself. You started dressing differently, started taking really important steps to love your body, to be kind to yourself. And it had these amazing ramifications, which was that the more you were kinder to yourself the happier that you ended up being. In college you fell in love with yourself and that’s when you started to shine. Your relationships with others became better as a result. The relationships that you had whether intimate or platonic thrived, because you were thriving. It was the happiest you had ever been and it completely altered your life. But, even in your quest to love yourself there were a lot of things you left behind just so you didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

Your hand is cramping when you set the pen off to the side. You’d scribbled pages and pages of words. At some point, Priyanka had gone off to swim leaving you there. When the words had run dry, you threw your journal to the side and joined her. If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was your ability to love yourself in spite of all things. You had grown to thrive on your own, to give yourself everything that no one else had ever bothered to give you. And it wasn’t necessarily about a need to be a relationship, or this idea that love from someone else is better than self-love. Maybe it was just that self-love doesn’t have to be the only love, and that you can love yourself enough to let others love you too. There wasn’t any weakness in that.

***

You’re in a bar listening to Priyanka try to explain why you should order this supposed magical cocktail that cures the soul when you hear his voice. At first you don’t even recognize that it’s music, so you flick your head around thinking that he’s standing behind you. Instead it’s his new single. Even in Barcelona you can’t escape him. It doesn’t help that the entire bar immediately starts to gravitate to the song. It’s kind of a bop after all. Until you start to listen to the words anyway.

I can't write one song that's not about you

Can't drink without thinkin' about you

Is it too late to tell you that

Everything means nothing if I can't have you?

You always thought the first time Shawn might write a song for you would be this incredibly sappy, and hopefully beautiful, love song. That had been his promise afterall to write whole love songs for you. You never could have imagined that what you would get instead was a piano ballad he sang you completely hammered through a phone one night, but over some uplifting beat. It almost didn’t sound like the same song, granted you hadn’t gone back and listened to the files he sent you like he asked. It was so weird to watch people dance and have fun to a song that was about the destruction of your relationship. Watching people enjoy it just made it hurt more.

“Can we uh...Can we go to a different bar please?” You murmured in Priyanka’s ear.

She stared at you like you were crazy.

“But we just got here! And this song is incredible!”

“No Pri,forreal. Can we leave?”

She takes one look at you and seems to get it. You hope down off your seats and clear the bar as Shawn continues to tell the world what he’d just barely been able to tell you.

Even in the hurt there’s a bit of pride and you find yourself reaching for your phone. Maybe it isn’t pride at all. Maybe it’s desperation. Who knows

Y/n: I know we’re not speaking, but your new song was playing at a bar in Barcelona. Thought you’d wanna know.

You don’t expect him to answer, can’t imagine him answering after the last time you two spoke. Priyanka leads you to another bar by your hand and you swear you’re not peering down at your phone every two seconds

Shawn: Barcelona?! I’m gonna tell Andrew right now. That’s incredible.

y/n: Yes you can imagine my surprise when I heard your voice and turned around and you weren’t there. You were right though. Definitely a summer bop.

You take a couple shots of tequila that burn like jet fuel and watch Priyanka’s much smaller form get hammered very quickly before he responds again.

Shawn: I’m sorry if it surprised you in a negative way. That’s not fair.

Y/n: It did a bit at first but...It was nice to hear a familiar voice.

Shawn: I’ll try to believe that. Are you finding yourself out there?

Y/n: Something like that. Think maybe I’m just coming to terms with who I was all along, just had to do a little digging.

Shawn: Just as long as you’re happy. That’s all that matters to me.

y/n: I am.

***

You have a dream about your dad one night. It’s odd because you hadn’t dreamed of your father since you were in college. You had sort of buried him away. Maybe that’s why he was coming back now, as you unearthed all of these parts of yourself, somehow you had let him out too. It’s not a super deep dream. He’s just there with you in Toronto. He’s in your apartment that you no longer own, and he’s sitting on your couch. And you’re so angry, but in that dream like way where you don’t even understand why. You start to yell at him. Not about leaving you, not about abandoning your whole family, and the hell he inflicted. You’re yelling at him because his feet are on the table. It is the weirdest fucking thing in the world. And then you wake up.

When you wake up the sun is just beginning to peek through the clouds, the rest of the earth this beautiful purplish bruised color. You reach for your journal and head for the water and the sand. Being a Pisces really came in handy when traveling. And the waves seemed to not just pull you in, but to pull you outside of yourself. So, you sit down and you write about your dad for the first time.

When you were a child, you were the last one to give up hope on your dad. Your brothers were old enough to see his illness for what it was, or at least angry enough to not give a shit anymore. You on the other hand had loved him so much that it took such a long time for you to actually see it for what it was. Everytime he fell asleep drunk on the couch you were the one to pull his shoes off from the bar. When everyone else would yell at him for the reason they were broke, you used to sneak him your allowance from mom. You had loved your dad fully and unconditionally. So, when he left, and let for good, it had completely and utterly destroyed you. Everyone else had been right. You were wrong. He didn’t love you, at least not enough to stay or take you with him. It was the hardest thing for you to face and you were only seven goddamn years old.

And to believe that that wouldn’t have an affect on your relationships with other people in your life is so wildly naive. To walk through life having never sat down and genuinely reflected on what that pain had meant for you? How had it done any good? You were terrified of letting people in. Terrified that something was gonna happen one day, that you could give them everything in the world, and it still wouldn’t be enough. People leave. They always leave. Hell, you left. Left Ontario. Left your brothers. Left your mom. Maybe you weren’t too far off from your dad after all. And maybe, maybe that was the fear that you had never addressed before. What if one day you were the one who deserved to be left? What if?

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

It’s his birthday. The not so big, pretty irrelevant 24. But a birthday nonetheless. He’s in New York and it seems like a pretty good place to have a good time. They’ve rented a couple of party buses and planned a list of clubs to go to. He doesn’t have the heart to tell anyone he’d rather go to dinner and call it night, so he’s playing along. In truth he’s been doing so much better as the days go by and the shows are better and the fans scream longer. It’s weird to try and find love in the thing that felt responsible for his pain, to nurse himself with the very thing that had made it all go wrong. But, it was all that he had. If he didn’t have her, this was it. And he needed to remind himself that there was something good here for him. He had to.

He’s in his hotel room with Brian getting ready when there’s a knock on the door. It’s Andrew. He had neglected to join the party for the night, but made promises to do a dinner or something just the two of them. Instead he’s standing at his door holding a box.

“Awwww did you get me a present?” He snorted as Andrew set the box down on the bed.

“Not quite. You’re 24 and a millionaire, what would I get you? But the hotel delivered this to my room and it’s from Madrid, so I think it might actually be for you?”

He only knew one person who could possibly be in Madrid. He feels his spine strengthen and his heart beat ramp up and his stomach flutter. They hadn’t spoken since June. She had no reason to send him anything, not after the last conversation they had. For a while, after her virtual booty call concept, he had thought it might be the end of them. That her refusal to respond was a glaring sign that she was done with him. That had been the absolute worst for him. But, he was a cup half full kind of guy, and had quickly convinced himself that no contact at all also meant she couldn’t tell him she was moving to Barcelona for good and she’d never see him again.

Andrew and Brian watch him as he sits on the bed. The box is taped pretty badly, and he just see her sitting there in frustration and proceeding to wrap the whole thing in tape for added measure. He missed watching her eyebrows furrow in irritation. He thought it was the cutest damn thing in the world. Surely enough, it’s addressed to Andrew, but the curliness of the letters are a hundred percent y/n’s. She must’ve looked through the travel packet he’d given her back when he thought she was going to visit him all the time.

He used a knife from the room service they got for lunch earlier and ripped impatiently at the box. The smell that hits him is like the ocean, a little salty and warm. But he can also smell lavender, and he swears if Brian and Andrew weren’t there, he would have cried. On top is a card which is really just a piece of card stock with her hand writing on it.

I would’ve baked you a cake, but I didn’t think it would travel well.

I hope this works alright. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate.

Take a shot of tequila for me? Or 5. Don’t worry about your voice, you’ll be fine.

Have a wonderful Birthday, Shawn. Love you.

-y/n

He can’t help but laugh at it. It was so her. To wish him a happy birthday and somehow slip in permission to get hammered. Suddenly he was extremely homesick for her apple pie. And her arms wrapped around him. And her heart.

She got him an anthology on meditation and holistic medicine. It’s in English surprisingly enough, and it’s massive. But he knows he’ll read every word. There’s a new rosary necklace for him that he immediately slips on over his head to nestle alongside their swallow. There’s also just a bunch of polaroids from all the places that she must have been visiting. He had told her one time in the most intimate moments that they used to share, after they’d made each other climax and would just lie in bed sharing secrets until sleep took them away. He told her this silly dream he had of doing photography. He loved pictures of different buildings and cultures. Her sharing her journey with him felt so deeply personal, especially because he knew what she was out there trying to find. It’s the kindest thing she could have given him.

Shawn: Andrew just delivered your package. It was incredibly sweet. You didn’t need to do that, but I’m so so glad you did. It’s the best thing I could have gotten today.

He tries not to set up any expectations that she’ll respond to him. Afterall she’s already given him so much more than he deserved. It doesn’t stop him from checking his phone every three minutes just in case he had somehow missed the vibration. And it certainly doesn't stop his heart from leaping into his throat when he’s two shots in and she responds.

Y/n: No worries. It cost me triple what I paid for the gift just to send it. I wasn’t sure if they’d actually give it to Andrew or not. Glad it worked out. Are you drunk yet?

Shawn: working on it. Where are you right now?

Y/n: I’m in a town called Cerdanya. It’s very beautiful. It’s like half Spain, half France. I’m in the France part.

Shawn: Sounds beautiful. You haven’t posted on insta in a long time.

y/n: You worried about me?

Shawn: Always.

y/n: well take a night off for me would you? It’s your bday. Go have fun.

Shawn: I’ll try. Am I ever gonna see you again?

y/n: You leos. So dramatic. I think I’m in a really good place actually. Maybe I’ll text you when we’re both back in town.

Shawn: Please do.

y/n: I will. Promise.

***

*One month later*

y/n: I’m flying back to Toronto tomorrow.

Shawn: Really? I’m actually home right now.

y/n: Yea I know. Your whereabouts are kind of google-able.

Shawn: Right. Duh. Do you need someone to pick you up from the airport?

y/n: Bryan and Stu already offered.

He felt like a teenager trying to talk to the pretty girl at school and royally fucking it up. What a fucking idiot.

Shawn: Can I take you out for coffee when you get back?

y/n: are you sure you’re not busy? With the show and everything?

Shawn: Let me take you out for coffee. I could never be too busy for that.

Y/n: Ok. I’ll text you.

He’s sitting at a table, his legs shaking up a storm. He couldn’t sit still for shit, kept looking out the window every two seconds, and had even burnt his tongue on his coffee in a desperate attempt to find something to do. This was it. This was everything he’d been waiting for. Either she was going to break his heart, or she was going to make him the luckiest guy on earth. There were no other options.

He catches her walking up the street and his heart spasms in his chest. He can tell that she’s gotten nothing but sun these past months because she’s absolutely golden. And she’s wearing all white like she knows that it’ll drive him crazy. Of course it’ll drive him crazy. A fucking pant suit with long flowy jacket and a camisole the color of periwinkle. She looks like a goddamn goddess.

She walks in and he just stands up immediately because he doesn’t know what else to do, hasn’t seen her in so long he feels like he’s gone mad without her. And there really is no thinking when it comes to her. He wraps her up in his arms immediately. He can’t do anything but smile at her and try to re-familiarize himself with her entire being. Shit, it’s like she got more beautiful while she was away.

“Hi.” He breathed, and it felt like the first breath he’d taken since she told him she was leaving.

She smiles and his arms tighten around her. It’s like no time has passed at all, like his love had only grown in her absence.

“Hi.”

“You’ve got freckles.” He chuckled letting his fingers skim hesitantly along her nose.

She scrunches it, like she always used to. He dies a little.

“Yea. They only come out in the sun though.”

“And your hair. It got lighter. It’s so pretty.” He hummed.

She’s running her fingers up and down his back and he just wants to pull her into bed and cuddle for a day or two. Now that she’s in front of him, he can’t even believe that he let her go. Six months. And all of the time after Amsterdam. How the hell did he let her go?

They stare at each other far too long in the middle of this coffee shop, but he figures if he just keeps staring at her than she won’t have time to destroy him.

“So uh coffee?” She giggled peering up at him from underneath her lashes.

He nearly groaned. It was too much already and all she did was laugh at his awkwardness.

“Right. Right! I would’ve ordered for you but I didn’t know how long you might be. Sit, I’ll get it for you. Do you wanna share a croissant?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

He’s more nervous than he was on their first date. It’s almost as if fucking up the order, or not grabbing her a napkin, could somehow change whatever she’d come here to say. He sets her white mocha on the table for her, and puts the croissant in the middle. The moment he sits down, there’s nothing left to do or say. He just has to listen. At least he knows that he owes her that.

“I uh...I guess I don’t know where to start.” She murmured, peering down at her cup.

He nodded. “Maybe you could just start with what you were trying to find when you left? And maybe whether or not you found it.”

She takes a deep breath and her hand moves from the table to the back of her neck to her necklace. And the second he sees the swallow his heart speeds up. Relax. Listen. Breathe.

“Well, I was doing really well at work technically. But Gina could see that I was using my job as a crutch to not have to deal with my pain. And I think that’s why she sent me on the sabbatical. I guess what I didn’t realize at the time was that I’ve always done that. I don’t like to be hurt, obviously. But more than that I don’t like to be weak. So, when you hurt me I was trying to--to pretend that I could be alright with you. And I was trying to learn from my mistakes so that I could make sure you, or no one else could do it again. But I think maybe I over corrected.

“I left because...I needed to figure out, like why my defense mechanism is to cut people off immediately. Like why am I twenty-six years old with one best friend and no one else? Not that I even want a whole bunch of friends, but I’ve never even tried to hang with someone besides Stu or Bryan. Why am I so incapable of letting people in? I spent such a long part of my life learning to be kind to myself, learning to protect my mental and emotional health because of trauma and because of hurt that I never learned how to let others do it too. I never learned what it could look like to let someone love me and not resent them for it. You. You were my first time trying.”

It’s instinctual that when she puts her hand on the table he reaches for it. He needed to show her how much he cared, how much love and respect he had for her. And when she intertwines their fingers and plays with his ring, it feels like an acknowledgement of that.

“I met this woman named Priyanka in Barcelona? I ended up spending like a whole month there just because of her.” She smiled softly. “And she made me keep this journal and she had me write all the things I was always too afraid to tell anybody.”

“Like what?” He asked softly just to keep her talking. “If you want to share. you definitely don’t have to.”

“Like...Like I never dealt with the pain of my dad leaving because I didn’t want to have daddy issues. I didn’t want to let him have power over me. The way that he left, and it took me so fucking long to see that he was wrong, that to me felt like weakness. I had let him give me whatever love he wanted and all it did was hurt me in the end. So, I guess in my mind allowing someone to love you meant that they could hurt you and if you let them do that then you were weak. And I guess that just equated to love being weakness.”

It’s like the most he’s ever heard her talk. She had clearly spent so much time reflecting and unearthing the parts of herself that she’d stored away for so long. Now it was like she was pulling out all of the individual pieces and sharing them with him. When he had begged her to just let him love her, and she had tried with all of her might, never had she ever done this. It’s like he’s seeing her in all her entirety for the first time. And it’s only making him fall even more in love with her.

He’s leaning his face on his hand and he’s just staring at her, listening to her say all of these thoughts in that big ass beautiful head of hers that he’s always wanted to know. It’s the greatest gift she could ever give him, and it makes every moment she was away worth it. If only she got to be a better version of herself, got to feel more confident in who she was. And not for him, not for anyone, but for her own happiness.

“You look so happy.” He smiled at her. “It all sounds incredible, y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m really proud of myself.” She giggled again.

God she was so fucking cute.

“Hey, that night that I called you drunk--”

“Don’t even mention it. I understood where you were coming from.”

She frowned at him and it’s the first time that she’s not smiling. He literally had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her lips. What a shit show.

“No. No you deserve an apology. I was drunk, sure, but my willingness and eagerness to inflict pain on you, that was all me Shawn. I knew you wouldn’t want to hurt me by saying no. I mean that’s so not okay. We were always open and honest with each other when it came to being intimate. I--I would never want you to pretend that what I did was okay.” She assured him. “I’m sorry, okay? I mean that.”

He nods and squeezes at her fingers again. “Okay. It was a shitty feeling. Mostly it was shitty that I felt like I deserved it, felt like even if that was all you were willing to give me than I should just take it. But I don’t like--I don't hold it against you. We were in a really shitty space. I forgive you.”

“Okay. Well thank you.”

He nodded softly. “ Have you thought at all about--I mean do you think you could ever forgive me? For what I did? For not handling things right? For messing it all up?”

“It took me such a long time. I was terrified of how in love with you I was. And I just was like waiting for the other shoe to drop for so long. I kept having to fight myself everytime you wanted me to be more open with you, and wanting to give you everything that you asked for because I loved you so much.”

“‘Loved’?” He asked hesitantly.

She sighed. “Shawn, even if I was waiting on the other shoe to drop I...never could have actually thought that you would hurt me the way that you did. That you would fly me all the way out to be with you just so that you could leave me and go on tour. That was so fucking painful for me.”

He nods and leans closer to her across the table, both of their coffees and the croissant long forgotten.

“I know. I know how stupid of me it was. I just, I think I got scared too. It was so easy to fall in love with you. It was so easy to want to spend all of my time with you. And the thought that like...that I could hurt you because of music of all things? That my being away could cause you pain? I just didn’t even know what to do. I love you so much, y/n. I need you to know that I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you. This was new for me too.”

“Sometimes you made it seem like you had all the answers. It was like you knew exactly what we were supposed to be doing when I was just flailing..” She mumbled. “It made it hurt so much worse.”

“I was just trying not to lose you. Do you have any idea how intimidating it is to be with someone as smart and wonderful and badass as you? You always seemed like you had the life part figured out. I thought that...that I needed to have the love part down so that I could keep you, so that I could deserve you.” He confessed. “But, honey I was just as lost as you were sometimes.”

“You were?”

“Of course!” He smiled. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I can be kind of dumb sometimes.”

She snorted. “That’s certainly one way to put it.”

She peered down at the table and he kind of figured that this was his chance, this was everything they’d been building up to. So he licked his dry lips and somehow managed to shuffle even closer across the tiny table they were squished at.

“Baby,” He whispered. “I’ve got to know... if there is even a remote possibility that we could try it again? And I promise to never do anything like that again, to communicate better, to be more vulnerable and open.”

She bit her lip and looked at him and he swore that he couldn’t breathe.

“I just wanna know how it’s gonna be different this time Shawn? When I go back to work and you’re still on tour for the rest of the year. How does this change anything?”

“It just means that we have to be better. It means you’ve got to be honest with me when you’re dealing with shit, when you need to get away from work, hell when you need to get away from me. And I have to...I have to learn to not place any of the weight of who I am on you. No more begging for forgiveness before shows. No more begging you to fly out just because I’m sad. It changes because we’re willing to change, and we’re willing to learn and grow together. Can we...Can we do that? I only want to do that with you.”

Her eyes flicked down to the table and then back up to his. She’s beautiful, so so beautiful. He just wants her.

She huffed softly at him.

“Well I love you, you idiot. So, I guess we can try this again.”

“Yea?” He beamed.

“Yea.”

He reaches across the table, trading her hand for the feel of her cheeks. They were still warm as if the sun had left a bit of itself behind. And the light dusting of freckles across her nose drove him insane. He was all in with her whether she knew it or not. She was it for him.

“Can I...Can I kiss you?” He sighed fingers cupping her jaw.

She licked her bottom lip and set his heart ablaze.

“Yea. You can.”

“Fucking finally.”

If you’d like to buy me a ko-fi

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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living on the edge of the law (biadore) - lily2

bianca is beginning to feel the heat from her old job in brisbane as a personal assistant and planner for a large cooperation record label and now she is being transferred and thrown in the middle of santa monica where she is assigned and paid to be on the tail of up and coming singer and songwriter, adore delano: who is definitely the most lazy and adolescent thing bianca had ever encountered thus far but things can change, can’t they? [ au where adore is a famous singer and bianca has to chase her around and be her personal assistant to get her income, mainly biadore but side ships and plots of course ]

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— *.✧

Bianca was a bit unsure what to think, what to do even, while she stood in the midst of Brisbane Airport. Clenching her carry-on as she just had her two suitcases weighed and sent off to what would hopefully be Santa Monica in thirteen damn hours, unless the Qantas airline staff somehow threw her luggage in the fucking Pacific Ocean she should be safe and so should her luggage which mainly was a accumulation of clothing, cosmetics, stationary & a dozen other things that Courtney had helped her pack yesterday as they shared one last drink before forcing themselves to wake up almost three in the morning for Bianca’s early, early flight. The coffee in her hand making her the only thing fully able to function, she prayed to get some sleep on the plane and was thinking she would since her best friend she should upgrade to the new business class seating, just to try it out and what better time to than a flight that would take more than half a day off her life, over the clouds, planning to do nothing but get wasted on discount white wine’s and gaze her eyes on her laptop which was already harboring a million emails from her transfer company about her position, her hours, schedule, whatever the fuck they wanted to write about they seemed to write about and send to her. “Wonderful.” She muttered to nobody but herself as she sat dull and already half asleep in her gate’s seating. It would be about another twenty minutes before her section would get to be boarded though Bianca didn’t expect so many on a casual six in the morning flight to Santa Monica, landing in LAX. — “I think you should accept the job.” Courtney spoke as she hit her best friend’s shoulder and grinned ear to ear, knowing it would be fun to be back in her own country of birth, “You’ve been trapped down under for almost six years, go and see the motherland again!” The Australian’s lips curling into a viciously attentive smile as the girl next to her simply rolled her eyes and clutched her glass in hand, swirling the alcohol around as their eyes meat briefly.

“I’ve never been to Honduras or Cuba—” correcting Courtney on the fact that America was indeed not the true motherland, it was where she was born and grew up and New Orleans itself could be considered a different fucking continent with all the culture and languages and diverse communities living in one big, united city. “I haven’t heard the best of things about America in general.” Referring to the news in which Courtney could only snicker, “Bad things go on in every country, every city and everywhere! Go and have fun, you know I will come to visit anyway.” They embraced in a small hug before the Australian girl wiped her growing red eyes, Bianca moaning. “Bitch if you dare get one tear on me I will make sure to whoop your ass so you hard you certainly won’t need a ticket to be in Santa Monica, I’ll express mail you.” Her tone only teasing though she knew deep down, Courtney was the only real person and best friend she had currently, struggling to get back in contact with old friends from America as the time came. “And maybe you’ll meet someone cute—” elbowing Bianca until she almost rolled Courtney off the bed with a yell, “Don’t even think about it, I came to work and maybe party once in a while, get better money but not for love. Besides, name me one decent American who isn’t taken, straight or a celebrity? You can’t, that’s the point.“ “Whatever happens you know I’ll annoy you and call you constantly, just the usual and casual girl things.” She hummed, the singer folding one of Bianca’s last articles of clothing. “If you didn’t I would murder you and unfollow you on all your social media, don’t test me motherfucker!” She spat as Courtney collapsed into her lap, “You can cry on Instagram live to all your five million Instagram followers!“ — Finger tips pressing against her IMac’s keyboard she begun to respond to a work email, this was one of the more interesting ones, about as interesting as assignments and work went but still something to do in whatever time she had left before she would just repeatedly listen to whatever shuffled on her phone once the airplane was in the air. She had already found out that her job was basically to do what she did with Courtney: boss her around, manage her social media, make sure she was healthy, laughing, whatever shit she needed and help with planning any kind of events, concerts, meetings, anything the record label asked for and needed. To: [email protected] Bianca, We are so excited that you have accepted the offer and I’m hoping the weather pulls through for your flight, you are our first new hire in a few seasons if I may be honest, most can’t handle the pressure, American records and singers are far more different than what it sounds like in Australia! I have made sure to tell Katya, our head in our department, to ship the packet to the address you provided! I understand the move, I went from Chicago to Santa Monica and it can be alot so please if you need a place to stay let me know! The packet should have exactly what you expect and a few other goods because we try and make it as welcoming as possible, not us being cheesy, us trying not to get fired to be completely real. Do not lose your ID, even if you use the pin to get in, security is really strict especially with all the mass hysteria with guarding and violence in the past few years, it’s required to clock in, clock out and even enter the bathroom, it sucks, I know but safety comes first I suppose. Thank you and see you Monday! — Shea ([email protected]) Atleast it was an actual human beyond the emails so far, better than some rich executive who was scarfing down his fifth coffee of the afternoon and forcing his personal assistant to quietly tap against the grain and send all emails with the same format, copy and paste all day. “Gate 10 will now boarding flight from Brisbane to Los Angeles, California.” She stood and reluctantly shut her laptop before putting it in her case, in her carry on and bringing out her passport and boarding pass, chugging some of her overpriced bottled water that she had to purchase after security along with a stash of dark chocolate large enough to last for most likely a week. Bianca made a very decent salary at her last job and would be making even more at this one however she was not ever one to spend more than she had to, Courtney for a singer who was booming in media and charts was suprisingly frugal with her spending most days, which made it twice as fun when they both would go all out and do their once a month goose chase of a spree around town, getting in all the stores they wanted in the span of one single day. “Well, let’s do this thing.” The words leaving her lips as she sent one last picture to Courtney of her passport and coffee, sending it with the text message of: If you don’t hear from me in twenty hours, I’m probably drunk! *.✧ The announcement came on and the lights flashed for them to be able to take off their seatbelts and Bianca completely had crashed course after one Hallmark movie, some wine, a Sprite and one entire chocolate bar. She was quick to jump up before she felt completely lagged and dizzy, quickly sitting back down until the rest behind her had gotten their luggage and begun approaching the exit of the plane, cleaning her garbage before she tossed it and grabbed her carry on, absolutely bolting for the door as fast as possible knowing it was a good forty minutes in a regular car to make it to her new studio apartment for god knows how long, Courtney didn’t tell her a thing about it expect her cousin had hooked them up and leased it. Thanking the staff she quickly felt her entire body want to collapse and throw up, maybe both at the same time, on the rugged floor of LAX, turning her phone off airplane mode and turning on her date plan she had decided to buy the night before just so she could be ready and set for when she landed, knowing Courtney would throw a hissy fit if she wasn’t the first person she texted. Fingers gliding across her iPhone she grinned, I’m in fucking america! can’t wait to grab some damn takeout and just collapse, meeting someone to take me, call you probably whatever the next time I wake up is! She had done the math in her head, it was about 7:20 PM here but almost 2:20 AM in Brisbane, timezones were about to be hell on Earth but they would make it through. An absolute dumpster dive of suitcases later she had found both of her own luckily, now heading for the International Arrivals entrance, Bianca had only been to LAX recently and it was for Courtney’s tour, before that she hadn’t really cared for or visited California much, staying in her own bubble. It truly was the epicenter of an entire universe however, as far as crowded airports went, this one was definitely the winner! “Jinkx!” She shrieked to her auburn haired friend who quickly winced out of her own delusional fantasy and screamed, running towards her oldest friend and happy to have collapsed and almost blacked out in the one person who could understand what it was like to be sleepy and tired though Jinkx had explained a million times that narcolepsy was very different than what movies and shows showed it to be, it was just in very relaxing and quiet surroundings, when she wasn’t doing anything and wasn’t focused on a task. “I’m so tired but I don’t even care, it’s so great to see you—” Jinkx shaking her friend in her own arms happily before Bianca had to pull away, not wanting to cause a meltdown or throw up on the expensive sneakers she seemed to have on. Grabbing a suitcase much to her newly arrived childhood friend’s concern, “Let’s go, my car is parked and she’s all charger for the trip!” “I forgot you have a fucking electric car.” “It’s red to, it has a seat warmer! That’s the biggest perk but also you can program it to do some cool things, I only got the car recently, DeLa was begging me to—” the mention of her college roommate who was also from Seattle made Bianca realize how long she had actually been gone. “I hate to be an absolute prune the first ten minutes but can we please stop and eat if that’s okay, I don’t wanna eat in your car but fast food inside is fine by me, I texted everyone I need to so now I’m all yours and I’m sure traffic will delay us another fucking three hours.” Finishing her water she tossed the bottle as Jinkx almost smacked her across her back, causing Bianca to choke a bit. “You really think I won’t let you eat in my car! Jesus Christ, this isn’t our senior year of high school where I had to keep my car spotless, of course we will get food, since you’re in California now we have to start with the local favorite, ever had In N Out?” A stammer before a tilt of her head came, Jinkx gasping, “I can’t believe self proclaimed critic of food, Bianca Del Rio hasn’t even tried it, much less heard of it.” Cackling, Bianca raised a hand, “Now hold on you shady bitch!” They made their way to the wonderful Tesla after an influx of stop signs and people shoving to simply get out of the airport. Bianca was definitely impressed, she had seen the cars before but they weren’t her style, it was much more different to actually sit next to Jinkx who immediately pulled out of the car and had her music blasting before Bianca lowered it a bit so she and Jinkx could atleast have a conversation, the girl beside her seeming to know what to do and where to go from here. “You can type in your address after we go and get some food, so tell me about what it’s like down under, I’m sure you have some stories.” Smirking, Bianca relaxed into the leather seat and sighed in relief, leaving her phone to charge with her portable charger as she crossed her arms and stared out the front view with Jinkx who was barely even focused on driving given the fact she had the rules of driving out of LAX down, the clouds and sky beginning to turn into a wonderful assembly of warm colors mixed with a vibrant purple. “Well since you asked.”

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #bianca del rio #courtney act #jinkx monsoon #shea coulee #adore delano #lesbian au #angst with a happy ending #living on the edge of the law #roza #submission #lily2

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