A/N: Hey, you guys! Got new stuff today after my long break. This one-shot was inspired on the song 'Você e Eu' (You and I) by one of my favorite Brazilian musicians, Max de Castro. As most of my stories, this is post finale. Hope you enjoy it. Let's read!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. No money is being made through this story.

SHATTERED PIECES

The concrete ceiling had never looked so dull and merciless before. The yellow weak light emanating from the single light bulb had been flickering for over an hour now, since the moment she walked out of the room, slamming the door shut. The electric buzzing and the endless wavering of the light were pissing the hell out of him, but tiredness had taken over his body and he didn't feel like standing up to shut it off. He just folded both arms over his naked eyes and let his body sink further into the thin mattress of his cot. It was kind of hard to stop thinking about what had just happened.

He had sneaked out of the party at some point. He couldn't watch them together any longer. His lips kissing her, his hands caressing her smooth skin, her loving eyes smiling at him. He was positive he was okay with this whole situation, after all, they were done for good. He'd moved on, so it was only fair that she had the right to do it too. He had even congratulated them for getting together, for God's sake. But when the whole thing really happened and he realized that she had actually moved on – and was apparently happy – it felt like the floor had faded from beneath his feet and the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

She wasn't his anymore.

Eventually she had come down to the dark basement alone while the party was still in full motion – he could still hear the cheerful noises of voices, music and laughter coming from upstairs. Seeing a thin light beam coming out of his bedroom, she carefully approached and slowly pushed the door open.

He was there, lying clumsily on his cot; one arm folded beneath his head, the other hand holding a bottle of beer over his stomach. His signature shades were off, but his eyes were closed. A few empty bottles decorated the top of his dresser, indicating he'd been having his private party downstairs.

"Hey, what are you doing here alone? Why aren't you upstairs celebrating with us?" She innocently asked. Her quiet voice startled him, but he took control of his body not to show it.

"What to celebrate for?" He asked, not moving a single muscle.

"Well, for starters your best friend has just got back from Africa," she told him, walking over and sitting down on the old ratty armchair at the corner of his room. "Also, it's New Year's Eve. Nobody should be alone tonight," was her final unconvincing explanation.

"Mrs. Forman sent you here, didn't she?"

She looked down at her clasped hands and released a quiet laugh. No way she could fool him, not even when he got his eyes closed shut. However, her amusement faded away as fast as it came because before she could say anything else, he continued, his voice serious and kind of harsh.

"Tell her I'm fine. I wanna be alone. So you can also get back to your boyfriend and leave me alone."

She scowled at his response, pinching her eyebrows together in annoyance. She'd come here with the best of intentions and he treated her like shit? Actually, it was a very expected behavior coming from him. Why hadn't she foreseen it?

"Why are you so mean to me all the time, Steven?" She spoke quietly, but the disgust in her voice was noticeable. "Why can't you just treat me with courtesy? Shoving your tongue inside that skank's mouth in front of me wasn't punishment enough?"

He took a deep long breath, making the best of efforts to keep calm, but her lavender scent invaded his nostrils as he did, infecting his whole system and reminding him that this sweet perfume wasn't dedicated to him anymore. It felt like the ignition of a firecracker, a furious one, so instead of calming down, he placed the current bottle next to the empty ones and sat up on the edge of the cot, looking directly into her mismatched eyes.

"If you're here to nag at me, you can just butt off, princess," he told her.

That was enough for her. It took long two seconds, but she managed to stand up and march back to where she came. However, she didn't make it to the third step, since she felt a hand grabbing her left wrist and holding her firmly.

It was enough for him too. He didn't mean to be rude. Actually, he hated when someone talked to her like this; even more when he was the one who upset her. But the truth was that he hadn't been able to contain himself near her during the past six months. Though he was angry at himself, it was her that his anger was being directed to, and it was time for it to stop.

"Jackie, wait," he begged her, his voice now much softer than before.

"Let go of my hand, Steven," she ordered in a harsh tone.

"I'm sorry," he spoke quietly, his eyes having a hard time to look directly at her, so he focused on the point of contact between them. "Just stay."

"You said you wanna be alone."

"I know that. I was a jerk."

"You are a jerk," she corrected him, which apparently he agreed, because he slowly nodded and loosened the grip on her wrist.

She watched him as his hands ran down his tired face then rested between his knees as he sat miserably on the cot. Something was off with him. She knew him better enough to say that it wasn't only the usual pissed off mood. There was something else, so she walked back and sat beside him, only the sharp squeak of the cot cutting the lingering silence in the room.

"Got a lot in my mind right now," he said after a few moments, but didn't avert his gaze from his entwined fingers. She wasn't sure of what to respond to that, so she remained quiet, waiting for some more information, which didn't take too long to come. "Got you a Christmas present, y'know."

Her big doe eyes shot in his direction at the mention of one of her favorite words in the world. But it wasn't much about the word itself, yet who was saying it. Steven was not a present kind of guy.

"Oh yeah? What was it?" She questioned, almost unable to suppress the eagerness in her voice. "I mean, why didn't you give it to me on Christmas?"

The response to that question was a one-sided shrug. The truth was that he wasn't very sure about the answer.

"I guess… I thought it wouldn't matter," he tried.

She narrowed her eyes to him, attempting to figure out his words somehow. "Then why are you bringing it up now?"

"Maybe I want it to matter now," he said after pondering the answer for a few moments.

He reached under his cot and grabbed a rectangular shaped object wrapped in green and red paper, placing it on her lap. She glanced at it for a second, then at the man beside her, who was also looking back at her. She took his tiny sad smile as a permission to tear the wrapping paper up, and what she saw beneath it made her breath catch.

A white and purple frame held an old picture of the burnout and the cheerleader. That was a great day to remember. It was football match day and she was on the top of the pyramid, but stupid Lucy, one of the base cheerleaders quailed so the entire formation went down. He wasted no time and ran down the bleachers to rescue his girlfriend. She couldn't walk for her ankle hurt like hell, so he took her in his arms to take her to the hospital.

It was one of the most romantic things someone had ever done to her. Her knight in shining armor carrying her as a newlywed bride. As the gang and the Forman's followed them to the car, she forgot about the piercing pain on her leg and baby-talked to him some sappiness she couldn't remember right now, though the shift of his face from a worried frown to a lazy grin was still vivid in her mind. That was the exact moment Mrs. Forman snapped the picture.

A small smile crept on her lips as she contemplated the memory of that beautiful day, and for a moment hope rose from his insides. But she soon suppressed it when she remembered they weren't together anymore. Furthermore, she was dating somebody else now.

"It's beautiful, but I can't take it."

"What?" He exclaimed as disappointment took over.

She shook her locks and managed to stand up, walking away to the end of the room. Keeping some distance from her ex-boyfriend would help her make her point.

"I'm with Fez now, Steven," she crossed her arms over her chest while explaining it. "I love him and I want to make it work."

"Come on, Jackie. You know this is all bull, man. There's no way you're in love with him," he complained as he also stood up. A hint of anger began to rise again, but he managed to take some control. He didn't want to snap at her again and make her leave. Keeping his voice low and soft, he approached her and gently caressed her upper arms with both hands, leaving some tiny tickles on her skin. "You know how it feels. You and I… That's how it feels."

Her eyes grew heavy and she averted them from his face. "Steven…" she managed a retort in an almost inaudible tone, but was quickly cut off by his soft one.

"Remember when you used to crash here?" His fingers roamed down her limbs, taking hold of both of her hands. His thumbs gently rubbed her palms, which absentmindedly made her do the same in response. "We would spend the whole night making out, and even when we were both too tired, we didn't want to stop till the morning. Remember that?"

"I do," she found herself answering quietly, the memory of those nights still fresh in her mind.

"Do you think you'll ever feel like this with him?"

"I'll try," was her almost unconvincing answer.

"You can't force this kind of feeling, doll."

Her teary eyes darted up at him, finding his tired blue ones fixated on her. She felt him release the hold on her hands, and before she realized, she'd let him cup her cheeks and seal up her lips with his own. A few tiny slow kisses were exchanged before his tongue asked permission to come in, which was granted with eagerness in a brief moment of recklessness. Limbs quickly wrapped around each other's bodies as every thought abandoned their minds. Now there were only the two of them. Two hearts beating on the same frequency. Two lovers waltzing at the same pace.

Except that they weren't lovers anymore.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this," she said quietly, placing her palms flat over his chest.

"Jackie…" His lips searched for hers again, attempting to restore the sweet contact, but she managed to free herself from his hold.

"No, Steven," she admonished him, her fingertips running fast under her already tearing eyes. "You had your chance. It's too late now."

And then she left as fast as she could, not even looking behind as she slammed the door shut. He remained stunned for a few moments as the light bulb began to malfunction, until his body finally snapped from the momentary paralysis, reacting the way it was already used to – he reached for the picture frame and hurled it against the wall. The protection glass shattered in a million pieces, making the floor look like a starry night sky.

Then he finally let fatigue take over his body and slumped down on the cot, remaining immobile for an entire hour until all the party noises were gone and the only audible sound was the annoying buzzing of the light bulb. He only wanted to sleep till he was dead, but his mind was as awake as ever. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

So eventually he managed to get up. As he placed one booted foot after the other on the cement floor, the cracking of glass shards warned him that leaving this mess as it was would only cause him unwelcome questions from his surrogate mother on the next morning. Not willing to deal with it, he grabbed a broom from the closet next to his room and started to clean up the mess, not so sure if he was gathering the fragments of broken glass or the pieces of what was left of him.

A/N: I'm not sure if I want this story to end like this. It can and might turn into a multi-chapter story later, but for now I kinda like how it stands. Lemme know what you thought about it. I would really love to hear you guys, if you got the time. Till next time!