Nate Maloley Imagines

Wasted Time

Follow and for original imagine:
http://shawnstilinski.tumblr.com/post/146649752566/wasted-time-shawn-mendes-requested-imagine
(Changed the character's name to fit my Nate Maloley Imagine book)
Read Author's Note at end!
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Y/n's POV
I'm angry, no I'm more than pissed. Today was the worst day at work, my boss continuously complaining about how I've been so absent recently and blaming me for the fall of the company's rank. Adding to that, Nate had completely forgotten to pick me up, forcing me to walk all the way home only to be drenched with cold rain.
I was shivering and seething with anger as I slam the door close and throw my purse on the floor, yanking my jacket off and flicking my shoes next to the doorway. I grab my arms and make my way to the bedroom, seeing my small setup on the bed. I huff and turn to the bathroom. I turn my hair dryer on and start drying my hair, even putting the dryer down on my work clothes. I cannot stop thinking about how mad I am at Nate. Now I wouldn't be this mad if it were the only thing, but having the crappiest day is enough to make me this livid.
Leaving the bathroom, I make my way into the kitchen, still clad in my drenched work clothes, to the home phone.
Dialling the familiar number, I begin to tap on the wooden dining table. But before I could slam the phone back into the holder, the door opens, revealing a suit-clad Nate. I watch intently, still seething, as he takes his jacket off, looking around him at my jacket and purse lying on the floor, before undoing his tie.
"Hey," I have the most sickly sweet voice on and an annoyingly nice smile. Shawn's body jumps slightly, before sighing, holding his chest slightly.
"Hey, you scared me. Um, why is your stuff on the floor?"
"Well, as soon as I started to walk, I got drenched and then arriving at home, it was the first thing I could do." What I was hoping for was Nate catching on to the fact he'd forgotten about me, but what I got, really made my blood boil.
"Oh, you could still pick it up, though, it's kind of rude."
My hands turn into fists and are ready to grab the collar of his shirt and slap some sense into him.
"Well, they wouldn't be wet and lying on the floor, if you'd just picked me up like you'd said you would!" I felt the tips of my ears go red with anger and began to move across the dining room, right in front of Shawn.
His eyes widened in realisation and he begins to apologise frantically, but I'm not having any of it. Being my stubborn self, I refuse to believe any of the 'lies' he conjures up. He'd forgotten, plain as day.
"Baby, I'm so sorry," he makes a move to put his hands on my shoulders, but I step out of his reach, before pointing and yelling.
"It's not just this Nate. Last Tuesday, you forgot to pick me up from my mother's house, making me feel the most embarrassed I have ever, having to tell my mother, 'oh no, he is coming' and then forced to stay the night!" Nate looks down at his shoes, his hand rubbing his neck.
"You forgetting our anniversary! You forgetting our night was enough to make me upset, but stranding me at the restaurant? Apparently going to the studio makes you forget about the dinner reservations! I was sitting at that table for two hours! Two hours, I spent sipping wine and being looked at like I was crazy! Two hours spent with people just thinking I made a fake reservation just to get into a place like that! You have constantly been letting me down, and the same excuse of the studio has worn out! Whatever you're doing in the studio can't be as important as you make it seem out to be!" I knew I'd overstepped as Nate snapped his head towards me, his eyebrows furrowing and redness adding to his cheeks.
"'Can't be as important'? It's my job Y/n! It's what puts food on the table and a roof over our head! It's not just some job, it's our whole life! Don't you dare say something like that!"
"The world doesn't spin around your stupid job Nate! There're other people living too! Except you don't seem to care anymore!"
"My job doesn't have any affect on my affection for you, Y/n, there is no correlation! But it is my world! It is the one thing I know I'm good at!"
"Yeah, you're lucky you have your voice because you're a shitty boyfriend!" My hands are gripping onto my hair, pulling at it, waiting for Nate's harsh reply. But I was met with silence. Nate was just looking at me, his lips parted and his hands moving from their raised position, down close to his sides, all that could be heard was our deep breathing. But before I could apologise for my words, Nate turns and grabs his jacket and keys, walking out of the house.
Being the person I am, I stubbornly let him leave. But soon rush to catch up with him. But as I open the door, he's already in his car, buckled up and reversing out of the driveway, not sparing even a glance in my direction.
I slam the door shut, rubbing my hands over my face, rapidly muttering idiot under my breath. The words that had left my lips during our argument haunting me. I'm pacing back and forth down the hallway before a soft ding is heard from the small circle table I'd placed next to the coat rack. Walking over, I notice the bright glow from the table. As I reached the wooden table, I peer down to notice Nate had left so fast he'd left his phone. The ding had been for a message, one from a contact whom I didn't know.
Ashley? Who's Ashley? The text had been a simple 'it's fine' and as I slid and typed in his password, it seemed to be one of the five messages shared between the two.
One being;
Nate: Address? It's Nate
Another;
Ashley: Maladse Apartments, no.49
Another one;
Nate: I'll be there, late
Second last;
Nate: Sorry I left so quick, I was in a rush, I will be there tonight though
Last, but certainly not least;
Ashley: its fine
Being a person with lingering trust issues, this didn't sit well with my gut. Nate had been talking with other women, whom I had no knowledge of, asking for an address and replying that he's coming there late? I chose not to dwell on the subject, but instead focusing on the messages in front of me.
The first two had been sent roughly a couple of weeks ago, near the time of our anniversary. The next one being sent a few days back, the time of which I was at my parent's. The last two being sent this afternoon? Whilst I was at work? I was confused and decided to do the one thing I could do. I grabbed my keys from the desk, pulling a khaki coat on, before leaving and getting into my car, starting the engine. I look down at the address one more time before reversing out of the driveway and heading into the direction of the drive.
It had been a twenty-minute drive, but when I get close to the apartment, I'd wished I'd stayed home, where my only problems were the quarrel between Nate and me.
I turn into the shared driveway. Parking my car. Right next to Nate's.
I stare over at the black jeep, tears stinging the back of my eyes, before opening the car door and shakily stepping out. I'd been wearing my work heels, so instead of the horrible feeling reaching up my throat, I decided to concentrate on the sound of my heels hitting the pavement. The clicking sound distracting me from the obviousness of the situation.
I walk up the steps, pulling out Nate's phone to remind myself of the number of the door.
Reaching the door made my chest clench, and I close my eyes. Memories of Nate and I resurfacing making my throat close and tears to well up.
The night we'd first met. Nate's awkward hand gestures won me over and I had agreed to go to the park across the street with him, ditching our mutual friend's party to spend time with one another. We had shared a kiss that night, under the moonlight with the wind blowing through my hair, making the scene feel like one out from a movie.
Our first time being full of passion and love. Our bodies melding into one as his hands had explored inches of skin not touched by anyone. His lips dancing on my skin, leaving the familiar burning sensation. The moans, the panting, everything being so intense, makes me fill up with a dull warmth.
The day we'd moved in. The unpacking being a joyous, yet, extremely frustrating moment in time. Nate carried majority of the heavy boxes whilst also helping me throughout the afternoon. Afterwards, he'd thrown me on the bed and took me right then and there, a special 'new home' gift.
The days and nights filled with smiles, laughter, quarrels and tears. We'd been through a fair share of rough patches, but none stronger than our relationship. We'd gone through months of Nate's tour, nights of not sleeping in the same bed. Days not spent with each other, we've had it all. And we'd gotten through all of them with our heads held high. Because as he told me at the alter, "We are stronger than anything found in this god damn Earth and nothing will ever get in between us, this amazing bond that only we share."
But it was all a lie, everything single sentence coming out of his mouth these past few weeks, the I love you's, they were all part of a lie he'd thought he'd gotten past me. And for a while he had. But the sleepless nights of wondering why he'd become so distant would have gotten to me one day, and I would be standing in this exact position only many months later.
Opening my eyes, I moved away from the door, moving to the side where a thin fabric covered the window. But the scene unfolding felt too painful to even be real. His hands wandering someone else's body, his lips leaving marks on another's skin, his body tangled with another.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. A woman answered shortly after, sounding breathy. I reply, saying something along the lines of, "It's your neighbour, I just wanted to ask you something about the apartment," (not remembering much of what I said, being in the state I was) before hearing her footsteps.
And before I can take another breath to ready myself for the scene, she opens the door. And I'm hit with the realisation, that, this is real, this is something he'd consciously done. Maybe he knew how much he'd hurt me with this.
She's stood in front of me, and by her body language she doesn't know who I am. He can't see me as he's facing away from the entrance, his eyes looking across the room.
"Yes?" Her voice is deep, deeper than mine. Her hand's on her hip and she looking down on me slightly. Her bold green eyes, piercing into mine, and before I can usher another word, she cuts me off, repeating the earlier question.
Which happens to grab Nate's attention.
It happens so quick. His eyes widen and he's getting up off the couch, his body is tensed and his arms are slightly raised. He's got closed fists, a tight jaw, his lips parted. He looks truly terrified.
The woman, Ashley I'm presuming, moves to the side and looks in-between the two of us. She utters something, but both of us too concentrated on one another to even comprehend what's happening around us.
"Y/n," my name leaves his lips in a soft, gentle manner, a silent sorry. But was he sorry for himself, or for me?
I can feel the tears spilling down my cheeks, and I'm surprised that the women hands me a tissue. I don't even acknowledge her, only shake my head before letting a sob wrack through my body. My hand comes fast to cover my mouth, the other clutching my coat to my stomach. I can barely see him through the tears, but I shake my head.
"Nate," I choke out, before turning and rushing down the stairs. I hold both sides of the railing as I move down. I can hear him bounding down, going possibly two steps at a time. Before reaching the ground level of apartments, I turn to look at Nate's rushing figure right behind me, careful to hold both railings tightly. But was not careful enough, and trip over a crooked step. My knees fall forward, but instead of feeling the pavement on the side of my face, the stinging of scraped knees, the feeling of my world truly washing away, I feel arms around me, his arms holding me to his chest. His hand combs through my hair and his voice is whispering sorry's and shh's, like its second nature.
But I'm too weak to move, my strength drained. I can see him, the lights from other apartments helping me. The shoulder of his white dress shirt he wore earlier was now covered in my tears. My arms dangled by my sides and my knees buckled beneath me and my whole weight was now on him. I'm still crying, it still hurts, I still hate him, I still love him.
We'd been standing there for a while, his voice so gentle, so soft, humming a sweet melody. It calmed me, his voice soothing. But as soon as I lift my head up and see her standing there, the flashbacks of just earlier hit and anger fills my body. It courses through me and I push him, hard, enough for him to fall against the steps. His head is against the step before lifting up in a pained—sorry—expression.
"Did everything mean nothing to you? Were the 7 years of being together not enough!" I hear the gasp from upstairs but I'm too heated to turn to see the hurt in her eyes, "Was I not good enough for you? Did I not please you like she did?" I point to the women, only now realising she'd retreated back to her apartment, "Huh? Well, did I? You're truly pathetic Nate, a real piece of shit!"
I turn to walk to my car. I hear Nate get up off the steps and he's following close behind me, trying to make me stop.
We get close to my car before I'm tired of his attempts to get me to talk. I grab the collar of his shirt and push him against the car. He's not fighting back because he knows he has no right to.
I push him further into the car, moving my hands down his chest.
"Did she touch you like this?" My hands scratch at his chest, before grasping the buttons on his shirt, pulling them apart, ripping it open, "Did she rip your shirt like this? Huh Nate? Did her hands wander like this?" I moved my hands down his chest and torso, letting the tips of my nails scrape his smooth skin. My eyesight became blurry and I knew what I was doing was not only hurting him but me as well.
"Y/n, please stop, you're making this worse!" He grasps my wrists, holding them to his bare chest. He's looking at me with pleading eyes. But I shake him off, my hands moving to his crotch. I grab a handful and squeeze slightly, making his head tilt back in either pain or pleasure, I couldn't quite tell.
"Did she touch you better than me? Was she better? How was she Nate?Was she good? Was she tight? Did she feel good around you? Did you like it? Huh? Did you think about me once?" I move away from him, pointing in the direction of the apartment. His eyes glance over to the building, his mouth is open and twitching, like he wants to say something but can't find the words, he's panting, his eyes full of so much sorry.
"Whilst you were with her, did you think about me?" My voice is strained and breaking. You can hear how painful this truly was. The tears had finally stopped but it didn't mean I was over it.
"I love you, Y/n. I do, I truly, truly do," he moves towards me, his hands holding out to touch me. I step back, now realising I'd broken one of my heals.
"Then why did you do it?" I've given my all and was now drained of every ounce of energy I had.
He looked down, ashamed of himself and his actions.
"How long has it been going on? Tell me the honest truth."
His reply was quiet, but I still heard it. I also heard the sound of my already chipped heart, shattering.
"A month," that simple statement, brought my world crashing down, and made my worst fears come to reality.
I'm hunched over the front of the car, trying to breath. He's holding my back and I can't seem to find it in me to remove his familiar touch. I look over at him, and his hands on my body, noticing the tan line on his ring finger is open to see, since there's no ring on it.
I turn to face him and slap him, letting my hand make contact with his skin. His head turns, jaw clenches but he's too cowardly to look back at me.
"You got more to say to me Nate? Is she the only one? Huh? Tell me everything Nate!" I push him, wanting him to turn and face me.
"She's the only one! I'd never hurt you like that!" He still doesn't turn.
"But you did! You ruined me! You broke me and now you got what you wanted, we're finished." He faces me now, his eyes confused but drop down to my ring. I grab the golden ring from my finger and throw it at him, making sure he knows it's truly over.
"Have it back, I have no use for it anymore." I turn on my heels and move to the driver's side door.
He's not behind me this time. He's too stunned to move, realisation hits him, that it's over. Our marriage, 4 years of dating, another 3 of marriage, all down the drain.
Starting the engine, brings him back and he's chasing my car down the street before stopping and watching me leave him in the dust.
I turn to look at the rear-view mirror, seeing his worn out body, dropped on the road. He's on his knees, his hands over his face, before looking up at me one last time.
I held myself together until I got home. I ran into the house, the door slamming before grabbing pictures, of him, of us, throwing them against the painted white walls. I grab my hair, pulling at it like I did before. I grab vases, throwing them into the hardwood ground. I make my way upstairs, tearing down each picture on the wall, pulling them down and tossing them over the railing. I enter his studio looking around, but I can't do it. I can't wreck his whole life. Because I know I wouldn't just be ruining his life, but millions of others too. So I slam the door instead, hearing a guitar falling from a hook, before moving into our shared bedroom.
Nate always left earlier than me, so I had placed a gift on the bed with a sticky note on top of it, saying, 'open for a surprise'. I wanted him to open it with me after he'd picked me up and then we could've celebrated.
But instead, I grab the small box and toss it to the other side of the room. I grab the sheets of the bed and rip them off, throwing them to the ground. I grab our pictures throwing them across the room, hearing the glass shatter and sprawl out beneath me. I fall onto the bed and curl up, my body weakened. I close my eyes falling into a light sleep, letting the darkness provide me with a small amount of comfort.
I'm awakened when I hear the creaks of footsteps in the bedroom. My eyes flutter open, letting the soft lamp light in. I lift my head to see Nate standing at the doorway of the room. He's holding his jacket, he's eyes are red, puffy, tear stains running down his cheeks, he looks bad, worse than I've ever seen him.
We're staring at one another, our eyes not leaving the others. But his gaze soon diverts from me and slowly turns to face the small blue box on the other side of the room.
He makes a move towards the box, but stops to make sure I'm okay with it. I don't move, I barely flinch, because I know what's under the lid of that box, it'll crush him.
His steps are slow, they're smaller than normal. Like he wants to make our company last. I move up to sit on the bed, my legs coming underneath me.
He's kneeling down and picking up the already slid off lid. His eyes widening, his hands coming to his mouth, rubbing harshly. His eyes fill with tears, and he chokes out a sob.
He slowly stands up, holding the blue box, turning to face me.
He picks out the object inside, looking at me with widened eyes.
"You're pregnant?"
The baby blue stick sporting a two red lines, breaks his whole world, filling every ounce of him with guilt.
But I don't do anything, say anything or even blink. I only stare at him, we're staring at one another. Because no words could ever fill this gap of pain, nothing will ever suffice to cover the hurt I feel, the guilt consuming him.
Nothing is truly that strong.

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A/N
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Tumblr: Shawnstilinski
For more imagines on Shawn Mendes! (This one brought me to tears 😭)
P.S. Have a happy thanksgiving
🍽🍁🦃 Everyone! I accidentally deleted this already published imagine when working some kinks on my profile sorry.... Hope you enjoy your Thanksgiving.
Que tengan un Feliz dia de Pavo🦃!