If Only You Knew

TWENTY TWO

The next morning, I woke up slowly, the soft light of morning filtering through the blinds. My head felt slightly heavy from the wine we had with dinner, a dull throb lingered behind my temples. As I shifted beneath the sheets, I realized Shawn was still asleep beside me, his breathing slow and steady. His face was so peaceful, and for a moment, I was transported back to us sharing his bed at sixteen.

The familiarity of waking up in his childhood bed rushed in a wave of memories of us as teenagers—late nights spent talking, laughing, and sneaking kisses when his parents were asleep. But now, it felt different. I wasn't that nervous, lovesick sixteen-year-old sneaking around. I was an adult, lying beside him, feeling the weight of a decade between then and now.

I turned my head slightly, taking in the small room that hadn't changed much. The posters were gone, and his guitars hung on the wall like a museum, perfectly placed. Seeing them there, silent and untouched, made my heart pinch a little. Shawn was Shawn Mendes, the pop star. The world knew him as this larger-than-life figure, but here, in this tiny room, he was just Shawn—the boy I'd known before all the fame. I couldn't ignore that those guitars represented a part of his life that had only grown bigger while mine had shifted to London.

I sighed, gently returning to my side facing the closet. The reality of our situation had been weighing on my mind since last night and I could feel it sink in deeper. These moments with Shawn had been so natural and effortless. We'd slipped back into a rhythm, but underneath the ease of it all, I knew it was only a moment suspended in time. I would be going back to London soon. My mother's health was improving meaning my time in Toronto was running out.

I rubbed my temples, trying to shake the anxious feeling building in my chest. The joy of being here with him made it easy to forget the life waiting for me across the ocean. A life I had built, away from him. Away from this. But with each passing minutes, I found myself more and more unsure about what going back would mean for us—for whatever it was we had now. Was this just a temporary reconnection, something born out of convenience and familiarity? Or was it just a pause for him? A pause in a life filled with concerts, tours, and millions of people who adored him.

- Mornin', Shawn purred against my ear.

My breath caught up in surprise, with my thoughts being so loud I hadn't heard him move closer. His arm lifted up my head to rest right under it, while his other wrapped around my chest. His legs wove in between mine, and he nestled his face right above mine, his breath warm on my skin.

- Hey, I whispered.
- How'd you sleep, he asked, his voice groggy with sleep.

I paused, enjoying this tender moment.

- Good. I slept good.

He hummed in response, shifting slightly, pulling me closer. His embrace was warm but there was something bittersweet about it, as if we were borrowing time. The space between us had closed physically, but emotionally, I could feel the weight of unspoken words looming.

For a few minutes, we stayed like that, wrapped in each other, our breaths syncing in the quiet of the morning. Outside, I could hear the faint hum of the neighborhood waking up, cars passing by, the distant sound of birdsong. But in here, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

- I like waking up next to you, he murmured, breaking the silence.

I smiled softly, even though my chest tightened at his words.

- Me too.

Shawn began a trail of soft kisses from my head to my neck, intensifying those left directly on my skin. His kisses grew more passionate as he lingered in the nook of my neck, triggering a wave of tingles right above my tailbone.