Shawn Mendes Imagines

Nothing In the Middle

Your POV:

Shawn once told me that when he would watch movies when he was younger, he always thought the princes were wrong because they fell for girls too hard and too fast all at the same time. Then he met me and his whole perspective changed. Not all princes were wrong, he came to realize, and I can't help but feel partially entitled to the way his opinion changed so hard and so quickly.

Apparently he had to thank me for his career too because he said that all of the sappy love songs he wrote came from his feelings towards me.

My cheeks warmed at that.

That was also the cause of our demise: our first fight over his career choices. He wanted to move to New York for his music that was rapidly growing popular the more time passed, but I didn't want to leave Pickering, Canada. It was my hometown, the town that I spent my entire life in. The one that has all of my memories and everything; that's also where I met Shawn. I met him before he started making music, and I've become so proud of him since. He's gone so far so quickly; he said it sometimes scares him. Like he's not going to produce music fast enough for his fans and they'll slowly stop being his fan.

"New York is where my career is." He takes a long stride towards me with his long legs. "Don't you want me to be successful?" He cups my cheek in his large hand and his eyes look sad.

"Of course I do babe, but I don't want to leave Pickering." I say, softly, quickly, trying to change his mind. "Honey, I know you want me to come with you and I love you for that, but I don't know if I can leave this town."

He drops his hand and my heart drops to my stomach with it. He retracts his presence as warmth from me, and that feels worse than if he yelled at me. He exits the room, his head hung low, and closes the door softly.

He's not angry, and that's what scares me. He's disappointed, and to me, that's worse than being angry.

I don't want to be in this place any longer.

Too many emotions are manifesting that I go for a walk around the park and finally place myself meticulously onto the bench, my entire body aching.

I don't know if Shawn's going to get past this. I know I can, but if moving to New York with Shawn is what it takes to make it up to Shawn, then I guess that's what's going to have to happen.

I stay at the park for a few more hours, solidifying my thoughts before I walk the trek back to the small apartment that we shared in Pickering.

Just as I get into the door, Shawn is closing it and gives me my favorite hug from him: when he's warm, soft, and he rubs my back.

"I'm sorry. I was being insensitive. You don't have to move to New York with me if you don't want to. I don't want to force you to do anything that you don't want to do." He tells me, his mouth near my ear, adding not the sense of calmness I feel from his hand running up and down my spine.

I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my head into his chest, inhaling his scent that seems to follow him, even when he disguises it with cologne. That comforting scent calms my erratic heart.

We embrace for a little while longer but it's getting late, so I decide that I want to go to bed. Shawn kisses my head and wishes me a good night, but he doesn't follow me. My heart falls a little when he didn't follow me, but I understood the message he was portraying: he wanted to give me space, and for that I was grateful.

Just as I was drifting asleep, I hear the strum of the guitar seeping through the crack in the door, the sound perking up my ears.

Since my curiosity always trumps reason in my mind, I decide to kill the cat and figure out what Shawn's doing.