Totally Platonic - S.M & T.H

CHAPTER FIVE: THE NOTE

CHAPTER FIVE: THE NOTE

Shawn stands on the threshold, jaw clenched as his hand grips on the edge of the wooden door. How dare Tom show up here after what he had done? He was lucky Shawn had good self control, but his patience was running out fast.

Tom grits his teeth, eyes locked with Shawn's – Knowing that he had just been inside, probably holding (y/n) like the way he wanted to.

"is (y/n) here?." He avoids the question, eyes trying to peek from behind Shawn, but it was to no avail – Shawn's frame was almost as big as the doorframe.

Shawn chuckles dryly. "If she is, she doesn't want to see you." Tom's jaw clenches as well – His stare fighting for dominance, tension fills the hallway were he stands.

"I need to talk to her." He demands.

"What for? So you can hurt her again? That won't happen." Shawn states sternly, his eyebrows knitted together. "She doesn't want to talk to you again, so fuck off." Shawn curses. "Don't ever come near her, you asshole." He hisses.

Tom gulps down, knowing very well that he deserved every single one of the things Shawn had said. He looks down at the copy of Hamlet, before licking his lips.

"Can you at least give this back to her?." Tom asks pleadingly, feeling vulnerable at the fact that he was asking for something to Shawn. If anyone ever found out of that, his reputation would break.

Shawn stretches his hand out, holding himself back from punching Tom's face — Tom hands him the book, feeling as if he was handing him something much more than just a book.

Shawn slams the door in front of Tom's sorrowed face, and he walks through the hallways feeling as if he had been dried out and left to die.

You walk out of the steamy bathroom, your locks dripping water and damping the maroon sweatshirt — Shawn's sweatshirt. Shawn is quick to hide the infamous copy of Hamlet, throwing it inside his small closet.

"Did you slam the door?." You ask with eyebrows knitted together as you walk over to Shawn's bed. He turns to you, basking in the sight of you on his sweatshirt – It was too big on you, falling just a little above your knees. But he had never seen you look more beautiful, he saw you and the words got caught on his throat – He wanted that, he wanted to see you wear his clothes everyday and every night. He wanted you.

"Uh yeah it was just Jeremy from next door, asking us if we had any weed to spare — Told him again we don't do weed and slammed the door." He explains, chuckling lightly and you shake your head playfully.

Even with that small smile on your face, Shawn could still see clearly the ghosts of sorrow and sadness – And how much he wanted to wipe them off and pepper you with kisses. But he couldn't, because part of him knew that you were infatuated by Tom. And he despised that.

"You want to keep talking?." Shawn asks softly, sitting on the carpeted floor of the room and patting the spot next to him. You smile lightly before plopping down beside him, your backs laid on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Tom, I know you thought I hadn't talked to him since the party." You frown slightly and Shawn slowly lays his hand on your thigh. No matter how much that hurt him, he couldn't bare the thought of ever being mad at you.

"'T's fine." He clicks his tongue. "I did tell you that if he ever bothered you that you should tell me."

"I know, I know." You mumble, sighing as your hand slides down to tenderly touch Shawn's and intertwining your fingers with his own. Shawn feels hectic, your fingers grazing his' was a feeling that he would never be able to describe. "I thought he was different, ya' know?." Shawn breathes heavily through his nose, squeezing your hands together.