Multi-fandom imagines

To come apart in pieces (Dallas Winston)

"What is wrong with me?"

    Not an uncommon question in my utopia in which I call my brain. This question has crossed my mind more times than I've even picked up a book, but this time I think it has a much deeper meaning. Why am I like this? Why am I sitting here, wrapped in his old jacket, 2 months after our breakup? It still smells like him. Cigarettes, leather, and the everlasting, oh so vivid, sent of my perfume. Maybe I just need air.

(3rd Person POV)

Giselle's dirty, beat up shoes had a committed relationship with her windowsill. Taking midnight walks wasn't the only one of her escapist tendencies. She just indulged in this one the most. She'd let her thoughts take her to her made up fantasies about who knows what. Today her thoughts ran to Dallas Winston. Dallas Winston and his dazzling eyes. Dallas Winston and his rough exterior. Dallas Winston and his hypnotizing smirk. Dallas Winston and his leather and jean jackets, in which she is wrapped in. Dallas Winston and... and their agonizing split. As she walked alone down the street, that she has spent more time in than her actual home, she found her feet leading her to a familiar place. Another place she can refer to more as a home than her actual dwelling place.

(Dally's POV)

I'm laying here. I'm staring. I'm thinking. I'm trying to sleep. I'm failing. I'm... lonely. I thought our break up would make things better. Now I don't even know how I feel. "I've never felt this way with anyone before." I finally know what they mean by that. I always thought it meant that you never felt this way with a partner, or in my case, a girlfriend. But, no. That's not what they meant. They meant that this person makes you feel different than anyone ever. ANYONE.  This person stands out above everyone you know. In a room full of thousands of people, the only one I'd see is her. Her and her smile, her laugh, her hair, her eyes, HER...

(3rd Person POV)

Giselle arrived at the Winston residence, her mind telling her to turn around and go home, it was getting late, but her heart telling her to stay. It was getting late after all wasn't it? What's the harm in talking? Why can't things just go back to normal.

I walked over to his window and lifted my fist. It seemed like everything was in slow motion and that motion had taken years. All the years we'd spent together flooded back as I lifted my hand in those couple seconds. Once I'd lifted it, I hesitated and asked myself, "Do I really want this?" I mean he is a criminal, which is partially why we broke up. Shouldn't I want him out of my life. Shouldn't this be good for me?

    I mean, I could go to college and meet someone there. He would be educated and get somewhere. Somewhere other than jail, or worse, dead. I don't want Dally. I started to walk away when one of the many memories that was flooding back, stopped. It was our first talk. Our first real talk. The first time he said "I love you." The first time, well, the first time he'd cried. In front of me. Since then Nobody else was allowed to see him cry except me... Whatever, it was all bs anyway. He didn't REALLY love me. Did he? In that moment I realized, I've pushed away everyone who has ever loved me. Dally DID love me. Dally still DOES love me! And I love him! I turned around and lifted my fist, for the second time tonight, with confidence this time, and knocked.

(3rd person POV)

When Dally opened the window there was no hesitation for Giselle. She leaped in and kissed him passionately. Dally on the other hand kissed for a little, but eventually pulled her off. She looked almost hurt, until she saw the serious expression on his face. Before he could ask any questions she poured out the sea of words and emotions that she had been holding behind the dam she called her lips.

"I'm so sorry Dally, I should have been more aware of your emotions and I was so insensitive. I only saw what was wrong on my side of our relationship. I only saw the negative and thought that I wasn't good enough for you to love and I thought you didn't love me and I was just-"

Then it was Dally's turn to return the gesture. He kissed her. Not as rough as she had previously kissed him, but it was one to show his true feelings. Dally had been telling himself that he didn't know how he felt. That was a lie. He knew exactly how he felt. It was all clear now. He loved her. He loved her and he would never let her go. Never again.

"I love you too"

break up

[break up]

DEFINITION

verb To come apart in pieces