ShawnMendes entered Wattpad.

70

~ You've got that power over me ~

My gosh, is that hard. It's like I'm walking through honey. My steps are so slow. Everything seems to be so much easier than walking up this stairs to Shawn Mendes' room. The room, he warned me even looking at, yesterday.
A step.
And the next step.
And the next.
And shit. I'm up the stairs.
For a moment, I only listen to the laughter out of the living room and the kitchen, and I can hear Aaliyah telling a joke. I look out of the window of the corridor. It's snowing so much now that I can barely see any lights neither a single lantern. The snowflakes are like big shimmering unique jewels, falling down to earth. Maybe lost by some angels.

The corridor I am in is filled with framed pictures of Shawn and Aaliyah, alone, together or with their family. There are several pictures of Shawn with awards I don't know or I do know, and some of him with famous persons. I can see Ed Sheeran and Wincent Weiss (a german singer), and Billie Eilish is also there.
Wow. Could probably impress some people.
But not me. Not me.
Okay. I am impressed. Sadly, this doesn't change anything about Shawn's behaviour.
Okay, maybe, it changes something. It explains for example his arrogance, when it comes to normal people like me. – Before I can downgrade myself to a little tiny and undeserving person, I arrived at Shawn's door. I can hear silent guitar sounds, and some melodic fragments. I lift my hand to knock, but then I stop. I'm frozen, because I hear some words he's singing. I can't not hear.
And they are sang so warm and with such a bittersweetness, that I can't knock neither leave.

"Met you on a lovely summer day
Right behind the stage I sang my soul away
Thought you were the one for months
Didn't write any good songs
And I love, oh I love the way you looked at me that day."

I can't move. My feets are frozen on the floor.
For roundabout the minute that I can't move, I'm just listening to this boy – and at this moment, it's just a boy – who's singing a wonderful lovesong for a girl. And that girl is not me. I won't ever be that girl.
That lovesong is adressed to Amy. Or maybe to Camila. As an ode on a gone (or maybe in the future again hoped for) love. It will be sang on stages in front of thousands of people. They will hold up their smartphones and put on their flashes, and they will sing along and they will cry along, and they will speculate who's this song about and-
My heart starts beating faster.
This song will be a great youtube-hit. And the whole world will listen to this song on the radio. And every time, I won't be able to enter any service-station or a coffeeshop, without hearing this song. I will be tortured with the whole Amy and Shawn and Wattpad story for the whole next summer and maybe for a much more long time.
I would always be reminded, that honesty and trust were some of the most worthy things in building and holding a relation-ship.

I breath in. And I breath out. And then, I decide to just walk down, as I have had tried to reach Shawn, but he wasn't reachable. Or maybe, I should state, that he wasn't in his room. Maybe, he was in the bathroom. – Yeah, even a famous singer-songwriter has to visit sometimes the bathroom.

Followed by the guitar-strains, I go down the stairs. Now, very fast – nearly pressured by an more or less known power.