For Worse or For Better (Shawn Mendes)

Shattered

Come over and let me embrace you, I know I'm causing you pain to, but remember if you need to cry, I'm here to wipe your eyes. And every night before you go to sleep, I run my thumb across your cheek. Cry, 'cause I'm here to wipe your eyes.

-Maroon Five

"Shawn, Shawn, get up." I lightly shake his shoulder.

When he doesn't wake up, I grab a tree branch and poke it around on his face.

Sputtering and swatting, he scrambles to his feet and looked around.

"What, are the aliens here yet?"

I burst out laughing, drop the branch and wipe my tearing eyes.

Shawn glares at me. "Not funny, idiot," he says harshly, running a hand through his conveniently perfect hair.

I just walk to the window and look out at the wreckage covering the courtyard.

"Storm's over." I say, enjoying the stillness and the after-rain smell of the air.

"Great we can get out of here. I've had enough of you to pay a life time."

But this time, when he says it, it doesn't sound mean.

It sounds like he's teasing me.

"Hey, Sky," Shawn says, turning to me.

"Yea?"

"Do you want me to just ask my uncle to pick us up?"

Thinking about it, I figure it was worth a shot. Whatever, right? "Sure, that'd be great."

Shawn makes a phone call and then tucks his hands in his pockets. "Awesome, let's leave this horrid place."

We breeze through the hallway and hop into a car, a gray haired elderly man driving.

"Thanks, Uncle Pete, just take us home."

'Uncle Pete' eyes me suspiciously and then drives away at a snail like pace.

"We'll be home in less than five. I leave conveniently close. No one's home, so you can get some real rest at my house. You can take the basement."

I nod, feeling a bit uncomfortable, but agreeing because I don't feel like dealing with having to talk to Tyler.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, we arrive at a small brick house.

Shawn immediately gets out and walks up the path. He doesn't thank his uncle and he doesn't open my door for me.

I push it open and get out, following him up the driveway.

Shawn unlocks the door and flings it open, stepping inside after letting me in.

When Uncle Pete drives away, Shawn slumps onto the couch and takes out his phone.

"Make yourself at home," he mutters, not looking up from the screen.

"I intend to," I state, making my way into the kitchen for a snack.

And then a gruff, heavily accented voice thunders through the house.

"Shawn what the hell are you doing here?"

I turn around to see Shawn's eyes widen in pure horror and he leaps off the couch.

"Quick!" He hisses at me. "In the closet! Lock the door! Go!"

Shawn practically pushes me into the closet and slams the door closed.

"Hi, dad," I hear him say, his voice shaking.

I push the door open a crack and peer out to see him talking to a tall man with the same brown hair and the same brown eyes.