Neighbors | sm + cc

Twenty One

Long chapter cuz I've been lacking rip

Camila ~
            Slowly walking into to our apartment, Shawn is sitting on the coach seemingly waiting for me to come home. The television is pitch black and only one curtain is open. His head pops up at the sound of my entrance. I give him a weak smile, unsure of how to react.

Precariously, he fumbles with his fingers before standing up to approach me. His walk seemed slanted at first, but he got balance after three steps.

"Hey, Babe." I wanted to be mad at how he acted this morning, but the cheeky smile he had on his face made me think otherwise. No matter what he does or says to me, I'll always be in love with this loser.

"I'm sorry again," he added, scratching the back of his neck. "It's alright, you were just mad. I understand." I lightly respond as I walk into the kitchen. Just past the counter, I notice the dining table set up with plates full of food in Shawn and mine's designated spots.

"I made us some dinner." He commented as he leaned against the counter. "Thank you." My smile was a mix of purity and ingenuity. It, however, leaned towards purity. Shawn has this gift of being very sensitive at times. A "gift," because his sensitivity is going in his favor.

Shawn awkwardly chuckled to himself. His laugh provided me a faster heartbeat. "Do you want to, um, eat?" After he asked, I lunged towards him and wrapped my small arms around his strong torso. The sudden movement caught him off guard for a moment before giving into the hug. He chuckled once again and kissed the top of my head. Despite his actions toward me, I continue to have him hold me in his embrace.

Pulling back from the embrace, I respond with "yes." Before I could get lost in his gaze, his hand met mine and led the both of us to our seats. I mouthed a "thank you" as I took a seat. Shawn had prepared a plate filled with mashed potatoes and a decently sized steak.

"When did you learn how to cook?" I joked as he sat across from me. "I didn't; I just know how to read a recipe." His remark caused me to laugh before I dove into the dish.

His eyes were persistent on staying glued to me. I was the only one who was touching the prepared meal. Shawn's Starr was almost unreadable. The only thing I could somehow receive from it was a hint of concern. Other than that, I'm clueless as to what he's thinking about.

"Okay," I started, swallowing a piece of the tender steak," you aren't eating and you keep staring at me. Tell me whatever it is you want to tell me." I propped my elbows up on the table and held my head in my hands.

Staring straight at me, he licked his chapped lips before speaking. "It just doesn't make sense to me; the stuff we were talking about this morning is still bothering me. I'm trying to ignore it, but it just isn't working." I stayed silent not knowing the appropriate response. Something inside of me wanted to ignore the subject at hand as well, but we both know it won't happen.

"Camila," he took my hand, leaving me to prop my head on only one elbow," why do you keep overworking yourself at a job that doesn't pay you nearly as much as you should be paid for all of your hard work? You come home exhausted and we almost never get the chance to do the things we used to. I don't want this job to be the reason we fall out of love."

I slightly furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at our joined hands. Shawn and I truly don't spend as much time together as we used to despite the both of us now living together. We both thrive to be just as affectionate towards each other as we once were.

"I guess I'm over-working myself..." I mumbled.

"I think you're over-working yourself at job you don't even enjoy." "Don't even enjoy?" I asked surprisingly confused at his statement.

"What makes you think I don't enjoy it?"

"Really? You enjoy stressing yourself everyday trying to find a story to write about and then getting it approved? You enjoy coming home late only to end up leaving early in the morning?" Everything that left Shawn's mouth was the truth, but it only made me feel guilty.

"I've worked so hard to get where I am in life right now. I refuse to throw it all away." I felt as if we both had pity in our eyes.

"That's where you aren't thinking; I understand you went to college for this, but don't you think that your happiness is more important than the amount of zeros in your bank account?" Reluctantly, I nodded. I somehow felt as if I had defeated by nodding.

"But Baby, you know I love this field of work." I want to defend myself for my unintentional acts of hurting his happiness.

"Don't you love to sketch, though? You told me that drawing has been a lifetime passion of yours. All I want is for you to be happy with what you do, really. I'm sorry for acting selfish this morning and telling you that you should basically think of me. Think of your own wellbeing first. Your happiness is the most important thing to me."

His happiness is the most important thing to me. However, he did shed a light on my passion for art. Maybe, I shouldn't overlook something I truly love. Is art a bigger passion of mine than writing?

"Art is a passion of mine... This morning, you weren't selfish. If anything, I was the selfish one. All of this time I should have been thinking about how my work is affecting you, and I'm sorry. I promise you I will start considering my actions and their effects towards you more."

"Purse what you love despite what happens to me. I love you, and the only thing I care about is your happiness." He rubbed his thumb over my knuckle and dreamily stared in my eyes. I felt a smile creeping onto my lips.