Shawn Mendes Imagines

Christmas Imagine #1 - House Lights

"Oh my god, look at that one!" You exclaim, blindly slapping Shawn on the shoulder behind you.

"Ow," He mumbles, and you giggle to yourself as he grabs his arm where you'd hit him. What a baby.

"This house is gorgeous," You say slowly as Shawn pulls the car up to the curb, looking past you and out your window, where gleaming and twinkling lights were strung across every edge of the house, lit-up trees and reindeer placed in the yard that were jumping around at different times depending on the beat of the music blaring over it all.

"I wonder how they sleep," Shawn thinks outloud. "With all those lights and music outside."

"I'm sure it eventually shuts off," You respond, your eyes never leaving the bright and colorful house beside you. You turn to face him then, seeing, to your surprise, that he was already looking at you.

"What?" you both say in unison.

"Nothing," he answers first. "It's just that, and this is gonna sound corny, so please bear with me... when I look at beautiful things like that, they remind me of you."

"You're right," you snort. "That was corny."

"Why did you look at me?" He giggles, the reflection of the house lights gleaming in his dark eyes.

You look out the windshield at the quiet, empty street-- as if the answer was written there or something-- smiling to yourself. The world outside was sleeping soundly, waiting for Santa to arrive, but you stayed awake, driving all over town to look at each house.

It seemed so simple, but it was somehow magically romantic to you. The two of you were taking turns playing your favorite Christmas songs from your iPods, knowing full well that there were many other neighborhoods out there still begging to be admired. It was perfect, and it wasn't even planned.

"I was just thinking," you answer finally.

His hand rests on your knee, fingers pressed softly to your skin. He waits a beat before mumbling quietly, "about?"

You loved that he wouldn't let it go. You loved that he seemed genuinely interested about everything you said or did-- something you didn't always have growing up.

The funny thing about humans, you'd realized, is that there is absolutely no possible way that we can find out what another being's motives are. We will never have any idea if someone really cares, or if it's all a lie. We will never know if someone truly means it when they say they love us, or care about us, or will always be there for us.

Humans rely completely on trust. We move in with someone that we have learned about, because of what they have told us and what we have seen, and we decide we like it. It had become a sudden comprehension that it is never guaranteed.

You look over at him again, realizing you'd been silent for too long.

"Thank you," you say, your voice barely audible. He didn't ask what you meant. He didn't question you until you were unsure about everything ever. He just smiled, gave your knee a little squeeze, and nods slightly.

"You're welcome."

Before you knew it, the house with all the trees and reindeer was getting smaller and smaller in your rear-view mirror, and Shawn was making his way down the dark and eerie road, the lights from the burning orange street posts and his low headlights mixing with the blur of the pretty bulbs on either side of you.

He pulls out of the neighborhood and down the street of Pickering, rounding a few corners and going seemingly nowhere.

You watch him from the side, his profile soothing. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders square as he tightly gripped the steering wheel with his free hand, the other holding yours and rubbing circles over your knuckle with his thumb.

The sky was inky, it's clouds fading into it like a watery mixture-- evaporating, caving in. You'd never felt so content with someone. You weren't sure of the hour, but you were sure of him, and of the two of you. It seemed right, like you'd been sinning while alone or with anyone else.

You didn't even need to talk. His presence was enough.

Each house was illuminating its own section, but you saw them blended together, shining brightly like the stars. That's how it felt. Like you were drifting through outer space.

Shawn finally found his destination, the vacant student parking lot of Pickering High School. At first, you thought he was going to go inside of the school.

But he parks the car behind the school, by the curb, which was covered in snow. He looks at you, and suddenly, you understood what he was doing.

His fingers reach for the car light above your head, flickering them both off, so the whole car was gloomy, the only glow coming from the moon out of his window, only the bottom half visible.

You flinch when you feel his hands on you suddenly.

"I get your plan," you chuckle.

"Do you second?"

"I second the fck out of it."

He pushes himself up from his seat and falls rather ungracefully into the backseat, taking you with him by holding your hips securely.

You liked the taste of his lips, bitter, rare; like they were never supposed to be on anyone's but yours. You could feel the adrenaline buzzing in your veins as his soft, wet lips were trailing from your open mouth to your jawline, then just below your ear, your neck, your collar bone.

He finds your sweet spot and behind absentmindedly sucking, one hand on the back of your head, his fingers exploring your hair. His other hand was placed in the small of your back, pulling you closer, and closer still.

He straddles you in the backseat, you could only see his silhouette. It didn't feel like this was all he wanted; he wanted everything, and more. He wanted all of you, you could feel it.

"Merry Christmas," you whisper, feeling him laugh above you as his lips detach from your neck.

His mouth against your cheek, you could feel him smiling. "I love you more than anything."

***

HEY GUYS IM DOING A CHRISTMAS WEEK!! NEW CHRISTMAS IMAGINE EVERYDAY UNTIL CHRISTMAS EVE, THIS IS THE FIRST ONE, HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

ilyasfm, merry early Christmas (or Chanukah, Kwanzaa, or if you're atheist happy two weeks off of school).

(:

-avey