Shawn Mendes one shots

This Isn't Love

I fumbled a tad with my keys as I locked myself into our apartment after a long and somewhat draining day at the studio. I was worn out and had by far passed the point of being exhausted. My head was aching, my eyes were sore and my body felt much heavier than usually. I really just needed a good sleep to get back on my feet again.

"Hey love." I called out as I stepped through the door and into the hall. Kicking my shoes off and dropping my coat on the hanger beside the door.

"Hey Shawn." She muttered back. Her voice was almost too low for me to hear it.

I headed towards the sound of her faint voice and found her sitting on the white couch in the living room, back against the doorframe with her legs crossed without moving the slightest at the sound of my footstep.

The room was dim, no lighting was on and for some reason, all she did was stare into the dark, silent room.

Something about the tension in the room felt cold to me, uncomfortable almost. It forced a strange feeling to rush down my spine and no matter how much I tried pushing it away, it came creeping back within the matter of seconds.

"How was your day, love?" I asked her, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

She didn't move, she barely even registered my affection. I dropped down on the couch next to her as my eyes fell on her gloomy silhouette. I wasn't sure why but I nagging feeling grew in my chest and began to ache just a few moments later.

She shrugged her shoulders carelessly, but she didn't turn her head to face me. Actually, she avoided meeting my stare completely.

"Same as always." She muttered, barely loud enough to hear it.

Her hands were in her lap and she was rubbing her fingers nervously while continue to avoiding my attempt to meet her eyes.

She seemed distant to me, out of reach somehow. Sure, physically she was here, but clearly, her mind was somewhere entirely different. There had been a lot of those days lately. Days where the distant between us made her feel rather unrecognizable to me.

She was cold and distracted, most days she didn't even feel like being close to me. There were days where I barely got to touch her, kiss her or even hold her hand. It made me feel empty in ways I never had before. A kind of empty I didn't know even existed.

In a desperate attempt to numb the hurt in my chest, I reached out to stroke her cheek softly but she tilted her head to the side to dodge move. Her rejection sent a pull of pain through my body but I let it pass without commenting on it.

Maybe that way it would disappear, maybe that way we could pretend it didn't happen.

"We could watch a movie?" I offered her, hearing the begging tone in my own stuttering voice. "I saw the sequel to Captain America is on Netflix now."

And the first time since I walked through the door, she finally turned her head to the side to look at me. I wish she hadn't, though. Even the way she looked at me had changed.

Her eyes were empty, emotionlessly. She was a ghost of who she used to be, she felt more like a stranger to me these days than anything. Her pretty face was paler than usually and there wasn't the same warmth as normally to be found anywhere in her soft eyes. In a sigh, she forced her eyes to fall on mine.

"I don't feel like watching a movie, Shawn." She told me without pulling a muscle in her face.

"That's okay, love. I'm tired anyways." I rose from the couch to head towards the bedroom.

I could tell she wanted to say something else, add something to her sentence but I interrupted before she had the chance. I figured that if I didn't let her talk, didn't let her say the words, I wouldn't have to face it. I could swipe it under the covers, pretend it wasn't happening and never bring it up again.