Shawn Mendes Imagines

Valentine's Day - Part 6

Imagine:
I stretch my arms out and I feel a slight pain in my back. I'm not sleeping on this couch again, I think to myself.

I open my eyes and scan the room around me, remembering that I'm not at home. I get up and wash myself and decide to make breakfast for Nash and myself. I dip pieces of bread in some egg mixture and cook them gently. I stack them up on a plate and hear footsteps.

"Did you sleep well?" Nash asks me.

I pull a face. "On that couch, no."

He pours two glasses of orange juice. "Did you not pull it out? It's a sofa-bed."

I smack my forehead. "Now you tell me."

"Ahaha, I thought you'd remember from that time I threw a party, and then you shared the bed with Shawn... oh, sorry."

I shrug. "It's okay. Come on, eat up before the toasts get cold."

We eat in silence and Nash sees my bandage starting to unravel. "Maybe we should fix that. You know, clean the cuts, change the bandage."

I nod my head and finish my breakfast whilst Nash gets his medical supplies out. I sit still and look away as he peels back the layers, my cuts slightly stinging and itching.

"Woah, Y/n! Weren't you supposed to take an expensive ring like that off before you bandage your hand?"

I scrunch my brows up. "What are you on about?"

I carefully turn around and see the most beautiful ring on my finger, spiralled in an infinity design and encrusted with a few sparkly diamonds. "Holy shit," I whisper. "Oh my god..."

I look up at Nash. "Will you take me back home? Please? I-I'm so sorry."

My breath comes quick and fast as I sob quietly.

"Shhh, it's okay... it's okay Y/n."

I take a deep breath. "It's not. I overreacted when I shouldn't have. And now Shawn... I need to go back home."

My hand is newly bandaged and we get to Nash's car to drive back home. I check my phone and see Shawn's new story on Instagram. God, he didn't sleep much either. I just hope he's home. We take the long way home since there was an accident clear up, but finally we arrive home, and Shawn's car isn't there.

We take the longest lift journey up and I rush out as soon as the doors slide open. I shakily insert the keys and stumble into the apartment. It's empty.

"He could be at work or something right?" I ask Nash.

I message Shawn and wait a couple of minutes but he doesn't reply. I dial his number, but it just goes unanswered. I hear the radio in the background that Nash must've turned on.

"Come on, pick up, pick up," I mutter to myself. Again, the ring dials and goes to voicemail. And then I hear it on the radio.

"... involved in a car accident, the famous Canadian singer is in critical condition."