I'm going to tell you the reason why I wrote this. I wanted more of Shane and frankly, I can't wait until May, so I wrote.
If anyone has any good suggestions on were to find GOOD Shane- fanfiction. Then, please. Write.
This is set right after Bite Club.

Enjoy,

I take a deep breath and knock on the door leading into the Glass house. I hear a couple of shouts before the door opens, revealing a girl in heavy goth make-up and a dress made up of a corset and a black tutu skirt. She widens her eyes at me and lets out a yell.
The yell is Eve Rosser's way of greeting people.
I smile at her and extend my arms and laugh out loud as she crashes into me.
"Easy, easy. You'd think I've been gone for a thousand years," I laugh.
Eve draws back and narrows her eyes at me. "I'm sorry, did you say something, person-who-left-without-saying-goodbye?"
I smile at her. "I'm sorry about that. But I'm here now, aren't I? Can I come in?"
"God, yes," Eve says and steps back.

I see Michael sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a guitar on his lap. He looks up and his face lights up with surprise before splitting into a grin. "Hazel!" He puts his guitar on the couch as he comes and wraps his arms around me.
I throw my arms around him and squeeze before I pull back to look up at him. "You look good, Angel. Different, but good. You could use some sun, man."
"Hazel?"
I turn around at the sound of my name and laugh when I see Shane standing by the door leading into the kitchen with a ladle in his hand. Happiness floods my chest.
He has a second to prepare himself before I throw myself in his arms and wrap my legs around his hips. I bury my face in the nook of his neck and exhale. "God." I breathe in his scent.
His arms wrap around me and I pull back a little, just so that I can look into his eyes. " God, I missed you," I murmur before I press my lips to his. They're soft and lush, and I sense just a second's hesitation before he gives me a kiss that is just as warm and damp as I remember his kisses to be.
I sense someone coming into the room. "What's going –" it's a girl, I manage to make out in my head. "Shane?"
His name seems to make him stop moving his lips and he draws back.
I turn around to look at the new arrival and find myself looking at a short girl with long dark hair and huge eyes. She narrows her eyes at me as she studies my position on Shane. "Oh, who's this?" I ask, beaming at her.
"My girlfriend," I hear Shane answer.
I turn to look at him and widen my eyes at his apologetic face. "Seriously?" I ask.
But instead of him answering, the girl on the stairs does, "Seriously."
I don't know how to respond at first; I don't know if I should be shocked or just plain hurt. The shock is there, but it subsides giving way to hurt. I didn't believe he would wait for me. Not after I left the way I did. I hoped. God, how I had hoped, but it had been too good to be true. Even then, I knew this, when I shouldered my backpack and zipped his jacket around me; when I closed the door to the only home I had ever known and justified it with that I was doing it in order to pursue my dreams.

Mortification burns at my face as I look into Shane's eyes. His don't look into mine, though, they're looking into his girlfriend's. It would've taken everything in me not to tear at the girl who is holding Shane the way I am now. I'm surprised she isn't.
"Oh my God," I murmur and drop my limbs from around him. "Oh my God." I land on my feet when he lets go and look at the girl. "I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, I swear." I look at Shane and opt for humor. "You could have said something."
His face turns incredulous. "You didn't give me a chance!"
Eve laughs. "You've always been one to make an entrance, sweetie."
I extend a hand towards Shane's girlfriend which she eyes suspiciously. "I'm really sorry," I manage to say around the hurt. "I promise, it won't happen again. I honestly had no idea."
She looks at me before she nods and takes my hand. "Claire Danvers."
I smile at her. I try to keep it from turning into a grimace. "Hazel Drew. It's nice to meet you." I drop her hand. "How long have you been living in Morganville?"
"About two years," she says.
Eve comes to wrap an arm around my shoulders and draws me close. "How about we step into the kitchen and catch up? I'm warning you, though. Shane's cooking."
I look at him, grinning. Something tells me that my smile looks broken but I dismiss it. I've always been a good actress. "Let me guess; chili. This can't be good."
He points the ladle at me. "Be nice."
My grins widens. It almost feels like old times.

I take a deep breath. "Alright, let me get this straight." I look at Michael. "You spent a period of time as a ghost because Oliver – who is an evil vampire – didn't manage to turn you into a full vampire but Amelie completed the transformation."
Michael nods. I turn to look at Shane. "And your dad came back to town, racked havoc, became a vampire and lives right now as a disembodied brain in a jar that has been wired into a machine. Correct?"
"Yeah," Shane mutters. "It was either him or Claire, so…" He shrugs.
I lean back in my chair and breathe out. "Well. And here I thought this was a small, boring town." I put a hand on Eve's shoulder beside me and squeeze it. "How about you, crazy?"
"Well," she smiles before she shoves her left hand at me. "I'm engaged."
"Oh my God." I take her hand to look at the ring; the diamond is gorgeous, laced intricately into the band. Obviously, it was silver. Eve did not do gold. The fact that the ring is silver proves that she's marrying someone who knows her well. "Oh my God. To who?"
"I never told you. Michael and I started going out a while after you left Morganville," she turns to smile at Micheal who returns it. A pang goes through me at the love in their eyes. I try not to remember the only person who ever looked at me that way. "And not too long ago he proposed," she turns to look at me, clapping her hands in glee, her grin clashing with the dark make-up she's always loved to wear.
I laugh and look at Micheal. "So how did you do it? Down on one knee, puppy-eyes, romantic speech?"
He fidgets and remains silent so Eve answers for him. "The whole shabang," she grins.
"Whoa. Maybe we should ease off on the girly factor and return to more neutral grounds," Shane says, leaning backwards in his chair. It's very hard for me to not eye the way his sweatshirt is hugging his wide shoulders.

Eve flips him off. "So, Hazel," she says, drawing out my name. "What about you?"
I laugh at her attempt to annoy Shane. "What about me?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Don't you dare hold out on me. I want to hear all about hot, blue-eyed Californian boys with rock-hard abs and sun-bleached hair. Spill." Her dark eyes glitter with excitement.
I laugh. "I don't see why since you're marrying one," I nod at Micheal, grinning at him. "Blond, blue- eyed, and I bet he's got things going on underneath that shirt." I wink at Eve. "Of course, you should know."
Shane rolls his eyes as Eve laughs and Micheal starts to collect the plates. Claire looks at Micheal's uncomfortable stance as he carries the plates to the counter and she smiles. It's a tiny, amused thing and for just a split second, I can see a glimpse of why Shane's with her. But then it's gone and I turn to meet Eve's eyes as she regains the conversation. "Don't distract me! Answer my question. Who is he?"
I laugh. "I swear, Eve. There is no one."
Her face turns incredolous and even Micheal turns to look at me from the counter. "Are you telling me, that you've been in California for three years and you haven't met anyone? Do you want me to guilt you into telling me? 'Cause I totally would. And before you ask," she holds out a finger, "yes, I would sink that low."
I laugh. God, I've missed her. "Seriously–," then I pause. I'm not going to lie. "Well, there was this one guy."
I half-expect Shane to comment; at least roll his eyes or give an experted sigh, but there's nothing.
"No shit." Eve rolls her eyes but she's grinning. "Who?"
"It was around last year, I think. I met him in the studio; he came with his friend to see my paintings and," I smile at the memory. "He didn't believe that I was the artist. It kind of pissed me off."
Eve raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it did piss me off. I'm not some damn bimbo whose only reason to pick up a pensel is to paint her lips." I shrug. "But I left him. It was either that or punch him in the face and I didn't want to be known as the girl who punched some guy on the day of her debut so I just left. He came back up to me when we were closing up. The whole thing was a success by the way; I sold seven paintings out of eleven which is pretty big for a newbie. Anyway, he wanted to buy me a drink as a way of apologizing but I didn't cave until after the fifth time he came knocking on my studio. I figured it would stop him from bothering me so much. We went out for coffee." I smile as I think of the way he made me laugh. "He was a good guy. Appearently he'd persumed the paintings had been drawn by someone with more experience. We went out a couple of times but I..." I trail off. "It didn't work out," I say finally and look up.
"What?" Eve asks. "Why? He wasn't hot?"
I laugh. "Oh, he was hot," I say, remembering the seagreen eyes and the way he looked when he was focused on something; an underlip between his teeth, green eyes blazing, dark hair going into all different directions but in the most charming way.
"Then why, you cow?"
I smile at her and shrug. She knows why. Everyone in this room does. Including the very reason to why. I was planning on coming back. On being with him.
"Oh," Eve says, finally getting it.
I nod, looking at the table. "Yeah."
Suddenly, there's a sound from Shane's side of the table and I turn to look at him. He looks furious and I know it's me he's furious with. "Nice. Real nice, Haze." He walks around the table and pushes the door open. It closes with a bang.
Haze.

"Haze?" I asked him over my shoulder.
His fingers traced up and down my waist and he pulled the comforter around us tighter. "Don't you think it's fitting?"
I chuckled. "Fitting?"
He kissed the back of my neck. "You have me in a haze. Whenever, I'm with you. I couldn't care less about anything. Eve might scream bloody murder right now and I seriously don't think I'd care."
I laughed. "Because she would be screaming over Ben & Jerry's Choclate Fudge Brownie or because Micheal would undoubtly come to her rescue?"
He turned me over and raised himself on his arms on top of me. "Because no matter how important something would be for me; in comparison to you, it's nothing.

I'm up and out of the door before anyone has time to draw another breath. "Shane," I call as I see him walking up the stairs and I follow him. He doens't turn around, doesn't respond in any way. "Shane!" I call again, following him down the hallway.
I'm just about to follow him into his bedroom when he closes the door in my face. I'm on the verge of opening it when I pull my hand back. He's not mine, anymore. I have to knock now. So I knock. "Shane?" I say.
When he doesn't answer, I knock again. Nothing.
Fuck it.

I open the door and find him in the process of taking off his shirt. He whips around to look at me and in a hurried motion pulls the shirt down. I supress the urge to roll my eyes; it's not like I haven't seen it all before. Although, the extre defined muscles are a very welcome surprise."What do you want?" He asks.
"What upset you so much, it had you throwing a tantrum like a little fourteen year old girl?" I ask him. It's not what I want to say. Not what I want to do. I want to walk up to him and slide my hands underneath his shirt; feel the heat of his skin against my fingertips. I want him to wrap me in his arms and never let go.
His eyebrows rise in surprise before anger pulls them back down. He heads towards me and places a fingertip right on my chest. "You have no right. You have no right to come into my room without my permission, you have no right to speak like you miss me in front of my girl and our friends, you have no right to come waltzing in here like nothing happened and fucking kiss me like nothing happened – not when you left me." He drops his finger and takes a step back. "You left me, Haze."
It feels like the tears will fall down at any given second and I scramble for my only option before it's too late; I turn all the hurt into anger. "It didn't take you long to find a substitute, though, did it? She's very cute, Claire."
He shakes his head at me. "Don't be bitter. It doesn't suit you."
"Fuck off, Shane. I'm not bitter. I'm surprised. I'm shocked. I'm hurt. But I'm not bitter," I tell him.
When he doesn't say anything, I drop my eyes to the rug; his lack of words make my tears spring free. "Why didn't you wait?" I whisper.
"You just left, Hazel! I woke up and you weren't there! You didn't tell me where you were going; the only thing I had to go on was you telling me that you had been accepted into some art school in California that you applied to just for the sake of applying. I didn't think you'd be back. Still, I waited a whole year and you didn't show up. I had nothing to tell me you were coming back to me and then..." he trails off.

I look up, not caring if he sees my tears. "And then you met Claire."
He exhales. "I met Claire and she was so good. She made me forget. Everything. You, dad, mom, Alyssa."
I shake my head at him. "Of course I would come back to you. I love you," I pause. "How could you ever doubt that, Shane?" I whisper, too afraid to speak louder in case my voice breaks. "I told you that night; the before I left. I told you I loved you and that I–"
"Always would," he continues, breaking me off. "It was a bit hard for me to belive that when I didn't find you in my bed the day after. Or, the week after. The month after. The whole year. It's been three years, Hazel. I wasn't about to give up my life because you were gone."
I dry my tears and stare back at him. "I did."
He smiles. It's sad and my heart breaks all over again. "No, you didn't. You lived your life and reached you dreams. You left me in this hellhole and you didn't come back."
"I'm here now," I offer, weakly. Some part of me figures Shane would have made a great lawyer.
"You're too late, Haze. I'm with Claire," Shane says.
"Do you love her?" I ask. I don't know why. Maybe, just to plunge the knife deeper into me; to make me suffer for leaving him, make me realize there is no way I could regain him. Make him mine again. A part of me still hopes he say no. Then, there are no limits to what I would to to get him back.
"Yes."

It astounds me how one short word can have such an effect on me. How it could bring everything around me crashing down like this.
"Fuck you," I say. I know it's childish. I know I should shut up. But I'm so angry he has this effect on me. That I'm broken and he's with a new girl. "I went there to follow my dreams. I am nothing here. Nothing! I wanted to come back and be someone I could be proud of. Someone you could be proud of. And I sacrificed three years with you in order to do that. You have no idea how hard it was to leave you; how many times I wanted to give up and come back. But I kept going because I wanted to come back having gained something in return for all the pain I was going through. I didn't want to come back and have you look at me like a failure; I wanted you to look up to me, I wanted you to smile every time you introduced me as you girlfriend."
"I was proud of you, Haze. You're a good artist. You always have been. I didn't expect you to reach your full potential here because nobody does. Just look at Micheal. He's been playing that guitar, for how long? All he got was one chance; one chance to go out of here and have a taste of the person he could be and he was ripped away from it just like that," he pauses. "And don't give me that bullshit, Hazel. You didn't do this for me. You did it for you. If there was anything you could've done for me, it would have been to stay. You don't know..." he takes a deep breath, almost as if steadying himself. "You don't know what it did to me." He eyes turn hard. "Everybody leaves me, Hazel. Every single one. But I never thought you would. God..." he closes his eyes, swallos. "I never thought you'd leave."
He breaks me, over and over again. Because I know losing control is not something Shane does easily. He's always been my brick; always been the one I could count on to be steady when it felt like I was falling apart. To see him unravel this way, it's impossible for me to think that my disappearence didn't affect him. "I'm sorry," I cry. "I'm so, so, sorry. You don't know how much I regret it. I've spent the last three years regretting it. I just thought, that when I came here, when everything was over, that it would be worth it." I take a step forward but that's as far as I'm willing to go, but God, all I want is to feel his arms around me. "But it's not, and I don't know what to hold on to," I look up at him. "It feels like I'm falling and I have no one to catch me. I have no one, Shane." The last comes out as a whisper but I know he hears it because the next second he has me wrapped up in his arms and it feels so good. He tightens his arms around me and it feels like he's squeezing the wound in my chest together.

But I can't seem to stop crying. All these years of lonliness and hurt that I kept pushing away because I kept comforting myself with that I was coming back to be with him and Eve and Micheal and everything would return to normal – it all comes back to me now, and three years worth of the feeling of nothing hits me hard; it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees.
I cling to his shirt for dear life, as if fearing that I will drown if I let go of him. I want to tell him how sorry I am, how much I love him but I can't.
Shane kisses my head and strokes a hand over my hair and for some reason, that makes me cry even harder but I don't want him to stop. If he wasn't with someone else, I would have pulled him to his bed and made him distract me from the pain that is tearing me apart. But I can't. It breaks me, but I can't.
Some time passes, and my sobs grow less violent. I try to make them even less violent by breathing in through my nose and exhaling through my mouth.
"I'm sorry," I whisper but I'm not ready to let go. "For everything, not just for getting snot on your fab shirt."
He chuckles quietly which makes me smile. "Fab?"
I pull back a little, just so I can look at him. "Are you honestly going to tease me about that? And didn't I always tell you that sweatshirts suit you?"
Shane smiles. "Yeah."
"And you know I'm not the sweatshirt type," I tell him.
"Right."
"But I'm always right."
He chuckles. "True."

I smile at him. "I love you," I tell him after our smiles have faded away. "So much, it's tearing at me." I draw a deep, shaky breath. "And I'm sorry. More than you can ever know." I rise to my tiptoes, giving him plenty of space to back away but instead I find him looking down at my lips. And I press my mouth to his. It's nothing, really. Just a soft press of lips against each other. I pull back before I give in to the temptation to kiss him more properely.
I let go of his shirt and that moment feels so significant to me. Like it's not only his shirt I'm letting go of but like it's him. Something tells me he comes to the same realization.
I take a step back and look at him. "Damn, that's a good shirt on you. Granted, you have bulked up."
He smiles, just a little and wipes at his eyes. I refuse to believe it's because he cried; that would send me crying again, and I can't go through that despair. Not one more time.
"I spent some time in the ring, a couple of months ago," he says.
"Full-time Slacker Shane, spent some time in the ring?" I ask him. "Do enlighten me."
He chuckles. "It's complicated."
I smile at him. I walk around, flop down onto his bed and cross my legs at the ankles. "I have all night."