shawn chooses to quarantine with his fake girlfriend
You’re angry. No, you’re furious. Furious because while he’s known you haven’t liked this whole PR relationship stunt he’s been pulling with his ‘friend’, he still chose to spend his self-isolation with her and not you, his girlfriend of three years.
You’re upset. No, you’re devastated. Devastated because while he’s filming live streams with her and selling their bullshit love story, you’re all alone in your shared condo in Toronto, struggling to grip onto what little sanity you have left.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if you weren’t isolated alone; if you had a friend or someone else at the condo with you. But you don’t and your immune system is weak as shit and you can’t afford to risk leaving the house. You haven’t gone outside in almost nine days. Sure, you’ve sat on the balcony for a little, reading your book or just getting some air, but there’s only so much freedom the little strip of pavement gets you.
You don’t complain about it, though. You know you’re lucky enough to be able to walk about on the terrace and have a large space to keep you occupied with, but being alone is still alone and it’s lonely. It might only be nine days since you left the apartment, but it’s been almost three weeks since you last felt Shawn in your presence.
Working from home was proven difficult on the first day of quarantine. You couldn’t focus or get in the mood to do anything and the longer you looked at the list of unopened emails, the worse you felt. You’ve FaceTime’d Shawn twice since he’s been with her in Malibu. Twice. And it’s not like he doesn’t have time. You’re all in quarantine, what else would he be doing?
You’ve let your mind run to some impossible scenarios. Is he sleeping with her on the side? Are they getting closer and he’s forgetting about you? Is he beginning to delve too deep in this PR relationship that he’s starting to possibly believe it? The latter is what’s been keeping you up at night. That and not having his arms around you.
You’ve been trying to contact him all day but your calls are ringing through to voicemail and your texts are going unread. You’ve seen the daily ‘pap shots’ of them hand-in-hand as they waltz through the silent street, even laughed at that video of the one woman chewing them out for being irresponsible.
It’s not until you’re tucked up on his side of the bed with his pillow cuddled to your chest that he calls you back. You wipe your stray tears before answering the call. He can’t see you at first. The bedroom is dark because you switched out the lights and closed the curtains, but he can just make out your nose and eyes peering out of the top of your blanket.
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