for ellie. the plot is hers, i just wrote it :)


She wondered how long she'd allow herself to stare at her phone before giving up. Turning it on yet again, she wasn't surprised to see that she had spent three hours straight sitting in bed and checking the stupid thing every thirty seconds.

All she had were her thoughts, and they weren't being very nice to her. But that wasn't her fault. Nothing had been making sense lately, but if she was being honest, it would've been even worse if things had been making sense.

Though, things were apparently perfectly clear to him, and he seemed to want to keep that to himself, which was completely unfair because she deserved to know what on earth was going on.

She checked her phone again, and shocker, she had no messages. She considered calling him again, but at that point she figured he'd be too annoyed to even think about answering her.

Still, all she wanted was to know what happened.


"Ross, when do I get to be the little spoon?" she laughed, watching as the large blonde boy curled up on the bed in front of her.

"Never," he replied. "I like being the little spoon."

"But I'm the little one."

"Exactly."

She rolled her eyes and crawled onto the bed.

"This is getting to be ridiculous," she tried again, draping her arm over him. "Look, my hand doesn't even touch the bed."

"You're just tiny."

"Exactly! Which is why I should be the little spoon!"

He laughed and rolled over on his other side to face her. He cupped her cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb lightly over her cheekbone.

"I don't know how I've dealt with you for this long."

"We've only been dating for two years."

"Yeah, but I've had to deal with you for seven."

He chuckled quietly. "Fair enough."

She closed her eyes and kissed him, and she felt his lips curve up into a smile as she moved her hand to rest over his heart.

"You know," he said when they pulled away, "I think you give the best kisses ever."

"And I think you're just trying to get me to let you be the little spoon."

"Note to self: don't compliment Laura anymore."

Opening her eyes to look at him, she saw a small smile on his face and a familiar twinkle in his eyes as he looked back at her. It was the twinkle that always appeared whenever he'd get lost in her, the one that meant he had no idea how he was looking at her. When he had that look in his eyes, the world could've ended right then and there and he would've had no idea, because he was in a complete trace, all his attention focused on memorizing her.

That look always made her blush like a cherry tomato.

But suddenly, the look changed. His eyebrows knit together, and his heartbeat sped up under her hand. She saw goosebumps rise on his arms and his thumb froze on her cheek.

"Ross?"

"I-I'm fine," he said, swallowing. "Sorry. Just…I don't know. I'm fine. Yeah."

"You don't sound fine. You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"I'm okay. Promise." He took his hand off her cheek. "You can be the little spoon if it matters that much to you."

After thinking about it for a second, she decided that if it was really important he'd tell her what was wrong. She rolled onto her other side and closed her eyes as he draped his arm over her, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers. He kissed her shoulder and she shivered, so he pulled her closer into him and pulled her legs between his.

When she heard his quiet snoring a few minutes later, she came to the conclusion that everything must've been fine.


Finally deciding to get out of bed, she set her phone down and shuffled out of her bedroom. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and sat on her couch, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.

It wasn't fair. They were so happy, and then it… Well, she wasn't even sure what happened. But she didn't like it. And if she was sure of anything anymore, it was that she was not happy.

Trying to distract herself, she turned on the TV.

"Pop band R5 has sold out almost every show on their massive world tour, breaking records in nine different countries!"

She quickly clicked it off and looked away, trying to prevent the tears from springing in her eyes.

Surprisingly, though, they didn't come. She just felt numb everywhere. It was a weird feeling, but much more welcome than the way she'd felt for the past few weeks.

Still, the split second that she saw his face stung like a thousand knives in her heart.


"Sorry I'm late!" Ross exclaimed as he loudly pulled out the chair across from her in the restaurant and sat down. "I was – I was doing something, and then I just… Well, I didn't even realize that –"

"It's okay," she interrupted him, laughing a bit. "It happens. I'm just glad you're here."

"I promise it won't happen again," he said. "Did you order?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I got you what you usually get."

He nodded. "Thanks. So, how are you? Feels like I haven't seen you in a million years."

"I know," she agreed. "Busy, busy. School's killing me."

"But you like it?"

"I love it," she said with a smile. "College is so cool. Really hard, but cool."

"That's good," he smiled back at her. "I've been writing nonstop."

"Must've had a bunch of inspiration."

"Something like that."

"I'm sure the songs are great," she told him. "I can't wait to hear them."

He smiled at her and took a sip of his drink.

Something about them felt uneasy. She knew he felt it too. She wasn't sure what it was, but there was something very off. Things felt too forced. Their conversation, their smiles, even their looks felt like they had to try too hard. Meeting his eyes proved to be more difficult than she was used to, and she didn't like it.

But instead of talking about it like a smart person, she decided to ignore it. And apparently so did he.


After finishing her hot chocolate, she started making herself breakfast. She rummaged around the kitchen, looking for something appealing. There was nothing in the fridge, at least nothing breakfast-worthy. But when she looked in the cabinet, she found a brand new box of Fruit Loops shoved in the back behind all her healthy cereal.

She frowned, not remembering buying it. But then she saw the yellow sticky note attached to it. Pulling the box out of the cabinet, she grabbed the sticky note and read the messy writing on it.

Breakfast at your house should be more fun than it is. Don't touch my Fruit Loops without me there. – Ro$$ the Bo$$

She snorted at the note, unable to help herself. She always used to make fun of him for calling himself the nickname when they were younger, and it was only expected that he'd sign every note he gave her with the name.

She threw the note away, her small smile fading. She sighed, knowing that those times were over, although she wished to every star at night that they weren't.

What she would've given to be able to wake up next to him just one more time, to feel his strong arms around her, making her feel safe even with the police sirens constantly whizzing past her window on the LA streets at night, to be kissed awake after a night of just talking about whatever was on their minds. (Okay, maybe not just talking.) A little more not talking with him would've been nice too. (The not-so-subtle-sex-innuendo kind, not the actual not-talking kind. The actual not-talking kind really, really sucked.)

She poured herself a bowl of Fruit Loops and nearly spilled her milk when she saw her phone light up on the couch. Almost tripping over herself trying to get to it, she managed to look at who the text was from and was thoroughly disappointed to see that it was just her sister checking up on her.

Because apparently it was super obvious that she wasn't taking the breakup well. Although in her opinion, her experience as an actress made her an excellent liar and hider of feelings.

The excellent liar part was a lie. So was the hider of feelings part.

She sent a quick text back to Vanessa promising that she was fine (lie, lie, lie) before setting her phone back down and returning to the counter to eat her cereal.

She couldn't even look around her own living room without thinking of him. Granted, most of the memories were ones that she wouldn't necessarily want to share with anyone (she knew that "Laura, I wanna show you something! I can, like, dance on your coffee table, right?" was going to end with them doing a scavenger hunt for their clothes in the living room the next morning), but they were still cherished memories. He was her best friend. Even before they were dating she made memories with him here, but now he was just gone, her heart and half her sanity along with him.


"Laura, I can't really talk right now."

"Ross, I haven't seen you in nearly a month and we haven't talked in two weeks. What do you mean you can't talk?"

"I'm just…busy, okay?"

"What're you doing?"

"Something."

"Well…can you take a break from 'something' to talk to your girlfriend? I miss you."

"I miss you too." But his voice was empty. There was almost no sincerity in it, although she sensed a hint of something else underneath it. However, that could've just been a slight distortion of his voice over the phone. "I have to talk to you later though, okay?"

"Ross, don't you just have a few minutes? I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

She smiled immediately. "My album's being released in two months!"

"Congrats, Laura." Again, there was hardly any emotion in his voice. He seemed like…like he wasn't even himself. "Can I go now?"

"Uh…yeah, sure. Call me later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Bye."

She heard the 'click' of him hanging up the phone.

"Bye."


After showering, brushing her teeth, and getting dressed, Laura decided it was finally time to emerge from her safe den and walk with the living again. She grabbed her keys and got in her car, deciding to go for a drive along the beach.

She blasted the radio, which was a good idea at first. Her favorite song came on and it got her feeling pretty good about herself and her situation. She didn't need him, she was fine on her own. And besides, if he was dumb enough to leave her, he didn't deserve her anyway.

But of course, her feelings of independence and, heaven forbid, happiness were short-lived, as none other than R5's newest hit single. To make matters worse, she knew that the song was about her. It was all about leaving someone and regretting it at first, only to end up feeling liberated in the end.

Despite the sting, she liked to think to herself that the whole thing was a lie and that he was miserable, even more than her. At the beginning, when the breakup was still fresh, she would fantasize about him calling her, rambling and tripping over his words trying to apologize, and begging her to take him back. But now, she didn't even know if she wanted him to call. The pain, the longing for him was just a force of habit now; she didn't really know anything else.

She switched the radio station and continued her drive, allowing herself just for a moment to remember the times when he would sit in the passenger seat next to her and sing in his worst voice possible (little knucklehead couldn't sing bad if he tried).


Two hours. He was two hours late to a date they were finally going on after not seeing each other for a month. She was so angry that she probably would've strangled him then and there if he had showed up.

Although if he showed up then they wouldn't have this problem to begin with.

Finally, she saw his shock of blond hair outside the window. Standing up to open the door, she realized that he wasn't even dressed nicely. They were going to a fancy restaurant, and he was dressed in a muscle tank with holes all over it and ripped jeans. Not to mention that he didn't even look worried about being so late.

She clenched her jaw and opened the door.

He looked her up and down shamelessly. "Hey, babe. Ready to go?"

"Yes. I am. I have been, actually. For two hours!" she yelled through gritted teeth. "Where were you?!"

He winced at her tone and shrugged. "Doing stuff. I lost track of time, alright? I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever."

She walked out to his car and got in.

"You're pissed," he noted after climbing in the driver's seat and buckling his seatbelt.

"You're late. Drive."

He obeyed, sighing as pulled onto the street. "I really am sorry."

"You also didn't even dress up. Where do you think we're going, In-n-Out?!"

He winced again. "Look, I've got some…things going on."

"What things?"

"Just – things. And I just really need you to wait it out, okay? I know I haven't been the best boyfriend lately, but – but it'll get better. I promise. I just have to figure these things out and then everything'll be okay."

She sighed and stared out the window. "It'd help if I knew what these oh-so-terrible 'things' were."

"I…can't tell you that. I'm sorry. Just, please – please wait it out."

"Fine," she said quietly.

The date turned out terrible. He hardly spoke to her, and when he did, he was either snappy or not even present in the conversation. He listened to hardly anything she had to say, and he spent half the time in the bathroom.

At least he paid the bill.

When he dropped her off that night, she thought his "Bye, Laura," sounded strange.

Then again, her "Bye, Ross," didn't sound much better.


She stopped at a quiet spot on the beach and thought about him. She hadn't seen him since that night, since the date that was supposed to fix everything but just made it all worse. He hadn't spoken to her since that night either, ignoring every way she tried to contact him.

It had been months, and still the only thing running through her mind was that period of about three months when everything went downhill. In the back of her mind she had known that they'd have to hit rock bottom eventually, but then again it was them and they were supposed to be timeless.

It just wasn't fair. All their memories, all their fun, all for nothing. He probably forgot about it within a week of deciding to stop talking to her. But all of it was still there for her. She knew it always would be. She loved him, and he just…left.

She never even got to tell him.

Sometimes she would imagine what would've happened if she had told him. His face would've lit up and he would've kissed her till she was numb. He would've confessed that he loved her too, and it would've been happily ever after.

But she didn't tell him, and that didn't happen.

Still, she was waiting it out, like he told her to. But time is a precious thing. Eventually, you lose track. And when the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, waiting turned to wanting, and wanting turned to wishing, and wishing turned to nothing but a hopeless dream and a whisper of what if.