Shawn Mendes Imagines

The Breakup

I hope you like it!
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I knock on Shawn's apartment door. I know he's home and isolating. I'll hopefully not have to use my key though. He wrenches the door open and I smile at him a little apologetically. He's wearing black gym shorts, a white wife-beater and he has dark circles under his eyes with a fifth of Jack Daniels in his fist. "Whatthehell  are yoooou doing here, Y/N? You want to hear all my *hiccup* drama? Well you're in luck! C'milla left me." He slurs. I sigh, feeling horrible for my best friend and neighbor. But I also want to shake him. "Shawn. Don't be an ass. Let me in so we can talk ok? I came to check on you yeah? Camilla's my friend too and she told me you might hide out in here." Plus our baristas down the street haven't seen him in a week and a half for his daily Americano and they told me so since we usually come in as a pair. He slams the door as I basically let myself in, pushing him out of my way a bit and survey his mess. His loose photos of him and Camilla strewn everywhere and half empty bottles of booze strewn over every table and counter. "I don't need you to check on me, I'm fine." He seethes. I turn my eyes from the mess, face him  and take hold of his arm, slowly lowering him to the couch, laying him down. I sit on his feet and decide to get right into it. "Ok bub. What happened?" He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "I don't know dude. We're both just so busy and haven't seen each other in so long and when we finally did get to hang out it was like, awkward. Like we didn't really know each other anymore. I don't know I guess we just grew apart." He hisses air through his clenched teeth, blinking away tears. I sigh, "People change. And that's ok." I try to guide his head to my shoulder as he starts to cry. "At least I have you though." He pushes himself back from laying his head on my shoulder, caresses my face and tries to lean in. I push him back before he can connect his lips to mine. "You're confused and hurt and also drunk Shawn, no. We need to sober you up, cmon." I drag him off the couch and somehow get him to lay in his tub fully clothed and turn the cold water on, waiting for him to come around and become a bit more sober.

Ten minutes after laying in the water he says something I can barely hear over the rush of the shower. "I miss her, Y/N." I take his hand and squeeze. "I know Shawn. You'll get through it though." He nods and leans his head back against the wall. "And I'll help you." He smiles but it barely reaches his eyes. "Thank you, Y/N."

45 minutes later he's dry and we're both in pajamas and he's waiting in the living room as I make us both cups of cocoa. "Hey, would it make you to feel better if you cried a bit? I know it feels good sometimes?" He stays mute and just nods as I come back into the living room with our mugs. I nod. "Okay, then I have the perfect show. What about some Grey's Anatomy?" He nods. "Perfect." He stupidly burns his tongue on the first sip of his cocoa. "Ah! Bitch!"

Two seasons later, we're bathed in blue light in the dark from the TV, still curled up together in several blankets on the couch we're both about to conk out when he whispers, "Thanks for checking on me and being a good friend, Y/N. I appreciate you." I smile and squeeze his bicep. "No problem dude. Now get some sleep. We can get Starbucks in the morning." He nods and leans into the pillows, shutting his eyes.