meghan trainor oneshots // m.t

4.9 • Drunk

It's funny. You spend so long trying to forget someone that the only thing you end up doing is thinking about them. You sit there with a bottle of vodka, doing nothing but the definition of letting yourself go, trying to make your Mr. Almost slip from your mind but you can't. Because you can't let go. Because he wasn't your Mr. Almost he was your Mr. Perfect and you always thought that you would be perfect together, that he was for life -- he was forever. You thought the relationship was blessed but it was cursed. You read everything wrong. And now whilst he's two chapters ahead, you're still on chapter four: the breakup. 

Whenever you kissed him it felt like it all slotted together; all your stars were aligned. But you were so blinded by the bright of the stars that you couldn't see past that and taste the bittersweet. His eyes twinkled with love but his facial expression screamed heartbreak. He was the one guy you never thought you'd fall for. You fell for the wrong guy, at the wrong time. And you fell hard. You were best friends and you fell into the trap of the cliche that it will work out. Because this wasn't a cliche; this was real life. Real people. Real feelings.

That was me. I spent my days lounging around doing absolutely nothing with my life. I spend my days drinking away the pain; numbing myself with cheap alcohol. It wasn't working. I was trying way too hard to forget him that I was unintentionally clinging in to what we used to have. Love. We used to have love but now all that lingers is the aftertaste. He kissed me one last time and left me stood there, somewhere in Los Angeles as the rain poured down and numbed my skin but left my feelings to harbor there and spread throughout my system. My heartbreak went terminal. He left me because he loved me, that's what he said. Funny kind of love because now he's on a world tour, one day in London and the next just a car ride away. But no matter what he was way too far away emotionally. Emotionally, we were miles apart. If we were a book, we'd be tatty and torn, we'd be the book that nobody looked at or read anymore because half the pages were missing. We'd be the book, that had a chunk of 100 hundred pages that were missing, making it miss the story line. I was the 100 pages that  was thrown on the floor, or lost somewhere because honestly I couldn't find myself. 

Every day he haunted me with his existence, and every night I was plagued by his face. From his undeniably sexy eyebrow scar to his perfect facial features. Then his smile. It was so incredibly incredible that I couldn't take it. It just lit up whatever room he was in like he was the sunshine and I was Australia in the summer. I was still so head over heels in love with him that I couldn't deal with the fact that he was gone. You can't even deal with the fact that your dream guy is gone when all you can see is the fact that he's your dream guy, not the fact that he's gone. In my drunken stupor I found myself digging through drawers and found the notebook. No, not the film. The notebook. As in my notebook, it was where I wrote down unwritten lyrics and stupid melodies that never made it out of the mini padlocked cage it was in. I flicked through the pages and watched my lyrics flick from sanity to insanity. My insanity was drunken nights of worthlessness and heartbreak. Then I found it. 

I call him the devil because he makes me wanna sin,
But every time he knocks,
I can't help but let him in. 

That was just it.  He's my devil and I can't get over him because despite his devil horns I was seeing a glistening, golden halo hovering above his head. I was seeing an illusion. I was seeing the illegitimate version of Charlie Puth that  I had fallen in love with. I had fallen for a fake man at the wrong time. Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going, didn't care if the explosion ruined me. His song lyrics were somehow accurately describing my life and I hated it. It kind of made me feel like he was feeling the same, but then I only had to flick through my Instagram notifications to be reminded otherwise. He was with some other girl, some other time. His life had turned into a string of one night stands and sleepless night with empty beer bottles and cigarette butts. I was woken from my incredibly long train of thought with thuds on the door. One. Two. Three. Loud and clear, someone pounding on my door. With blurred vision, I glanced at the clock, 1 A.M. Who is at my door at 1 A.M. The door swung open and there he stood. The devil himself was stood there with his halo and his cheeky grin and I couldn't help but thinking that he wasn't the devil. He was an angel. He wasn't a nightmare dressed like a daydream, he was a daydream dressed like a nightmare. 

He stood there with his messy auburn hair and his toothy grin. He looked like coming home and a future. Written on his face wasn't heartbreak but it was hope, the twinkle in his eyes looked as though it had only just been rekindled and he laughed a little. I staggered and stumbled despite the fact I wasn't walking anywhere. When I saw his beyond perfect face I practically choked on air but I didn't care. Because in front of me was... him. "Are you drunk?" he asked smiling with a light chuckle. I laughed and shuffled my feet, nearly falling face-first at the action. I smiled genuinely for the first time because I could see him and with him I saw a future, it was sat on his shoulder like an angel. Like him. 

I nodded, "Yes." 

A/N: No, no I don't know what this is. 

Stay strong lovelies, 
- Faye xx