Shawn Mendes Imagines

What If I Told You A Story?

okay so y'all remember that cover shawn posted on ig of him singing WIITYAS playing it on the piano in front of the mirror ?? he posts quite a few covers in that spot actually so FYI that's where this scene takes place. if you haven't seen any of those vids i attached a photo above ((: ^^

enjoy!

***

You grip the folded, linen navy blue sweatpants to your side as you step through the front door, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face as you breathe in the still, cool air, relieved to have a break from the ultraviolet sun rays beating down on you.

As if on cue, Aaliyah exits the laundry room into the entry way as soon as the door closes behind you, beginning to tackle the stairs before she freezes upon noticing you.

"Oh," her eyes light up, and she tugs at the end of her dark purple t-shirt as she flips her glossy hair over her shoulder. "Hey, Y/N. Shawn didn't tell me you were coming over. We missed you at the welcome home party last night."

You had no intention of making her aware that while you were unable to attend the party due to house arrest, Shawn snuck over to your bedroom window late at night for a little celebration of your own.

"Um, yeah," you laugh lightly. "I was just bringing over his sweatpants that he left at my place."

Suddenly, you tense up, shaking your head as you add, "not last night-- or anytime recently, just, um, a while back and I just remembered that they were in my dresser, and--"

"Breathe," Aaliyah scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest in uncanniness. "The window he sneaks out of is right outside my room. I sleep with the door open. Not only do I know when he leaves, but I have a pretty good idea why. He's upstairs in his room by the way."

With that, she smirks over her shoulder as she scales the stairs once more, all the way to the top at a quickened pace and down the hall until you hear her bedroom door shut.

You avert your eyes to the floor, closing them slowly as you bite your lip to hold back an embarrassed smile.

When you get up to Shawn's room, you decide against knocking before swinging the tall, wooden door open, and instead go for during. You knew he wouldn't mind. He was probably jetlagged and sleeping anyway.

As soon as you open the door, you suddenly become aware of the music he was making over beside the mirror. You could hear it from outside, but never thought to hesitate long enough to process. He snaps his neck in your direction, his singing voice and piano-playing fingers slowing all of a sudden to a halt.

You put two and two together as soon as you notice his cell phone, carefully placed on the edge of his bed-- resting against a pillow-- recording his song cover in his spot of choice. First day back home and never taking a break from his career.

"Damn it," he groans, but he couldn't help but laugh. "You messed me up. Now I have to start all over."

"Crap, I'm sorry," you press your lips together, easing down his bed after he reaches out to grab his phone and stop the video. "I was dropping off your sweatpants that you left last night. What song was that?"

He looks up from his phone, which he locks down without looking and sets on the top of the piano, turning to face you and smiling with his eyes.

"A super cool song Jack showed me in the middle of the tour," he answers, leaning over the edge of the bed and sighing in exhaustion. "I've been learning to play it on the piano.. just about every chance I get when I see a piano, even for a split second."

"Can I watch you rerecord it?" you ask politely, criss-crossing your legs in the center of his bed. "I won't interrupt this time, I swear."

"Of course," he grins, and you felt butterflies at the sight of his pearly whites that you weren't used to seeing again.

"But," he adds, "go over by the door so they can't see you sitting on the bed through the mirror."

"What's the matter with me sitting on the bed?" you raise your eyebrows.

"Y/N," he clears his throat, clapping his hands together and preparing his sarcastic voice, "You know exactly what is wrong with you being in view of any camera. You go crazy. You wave, and you stare, and you flaunt yourself. You're a distraction, my love. This is a serious cover. I can't have you cracking me up when I'm trying to play."

"I'll sit still!" you cross your heart. "I won't move or make any noise, I promise."

"If I had just met you," he cocks his head to the side, "perhaps I'd allow it. But unfortunately, I know you."

You struggled to remain serious, but it was so unbelievably difficult with him resting his chin in the palm of his hands as he leans over the edge of the bed, his chocolate eyes bright and gleamy as he stares up at you. He just looked so damn cute.

"I'm not a distraction," you argue.

"Please," he rolls his eyes, a smile lingering on his lips. "Freshman year, they called you The Diverter."

"Who did?" you perk up, dropping your jaw at the accusation.

"Everyone, baby. Everyone."

You scoff, and scoff again, and just as you were about to speak, all you could do was turn away and scoff, shaking your head.

He sits up and faces the piano, mumbling softly under his breath, "go stand by the door, cuddlebug, before I kick you off my bed and you have to hide on the floor instead."

You open your mouth to speak, unmoving, just as he presses record on his phone. Not giving you a chance before he outstretches his leg and stresses against your body, he knocks you in minimal force against the wall where you slide right off the duvet and land on the floor on the other side of the bed, holding in your laughter.

Half a second later, he begins to sing and play the song What If I Told You A Story, as if nothing had just happened, while you zipped your mouth and remained silent for the entire thirty seconds on the opposite side of the bed-- battling to prove, once and for all, you were not a distraction.

But okay, thirty seconds felt like a lifetime.

***

bet ya didn't know that happened right before the video, huh???

also when i was proof reading i realized that i used sweatpants as the item shawn left behind @ your house, but doesn't that mean that he walked home in his underwear? interesting, i know. i'm just picturing it.

-avey