Shawn Mendes one shots

Broken Dreams

I was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, staring over at the full plate of - by now – very cold food. Food that – once again – weren't going to be eaten.

I'd been sitting here for hours, but I stopped counting exactly how many that had passed by now. The more seconds that flew by, the more it stung in my heart.

I pushed myself up and grabbed the plate, before throwing the food in the trash, smashing the empty plate down the sink. It cracked and shattered into tiny pieces, but I didn't even care.

I was too upset to care about anything anymore.

I'd been crying heavily, but now, it seemed like there were no more tears left in my eyes. Instead, I just felt weak and drained, tried.

I dropped down on the chair again, resting my heavy head in my palms. I couldn't figure out if the anger had more control over my body or if it was the hurt heating up me up slowly.

I heard the front door unlock slowly as distant footsteps sounded in the hall, breaking the painful silence in the big house. I shut my eyes, feeling the sickness spread and making my stomach turn.

I honestly didn't know, if I could even be in the same room as Shawn. I was afraid, I might throw something at his face.

"Hey babe, sorry it got so late" Shawn shouted out, fumbling to take his shoes of.

I kept my eyes shut, trying to force down air into my aching lungs. Every breath seemed to slowly strangle me.

I felt the anger pumping around in my veins, forcing me to bite into my bottom lip until my teeth left sore marks.

"Did you eat already?" Shawn yelled out again. I was almost too furious to even answer him back. My nails dug roughly into the skin in my palms as I tried to remain somehow calm.

"Yes Shawn, I ate. It's 11 pm. Your food got cold so I threw it out" I yelled back to him. The hurt made my voice shake, cracking over at the end.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry, hon. We were writing this killer song and-"

"Whatever" I sighted exhausted.

I'd heard the excuses a million times before. I knew them by heart now.

"Where are you?"

"Kitchen" I mumbled back.

Seconds after Shawn appeared in the doorframe. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms like he always did, before gazing over at me. His warm smile met me within seconds, though I was angry, it still made the butterflies crack open in my stomach.

I hated it. I hated that even though he repeatedly hurt me, I couldn't get myself to stop loving him. I couldn't turn of my feelings or shut them down, they were always creeping in on me, even if I didn't want them too.

I had been staring at the ceiling for hours, all by myself, drowning in my own tears. It had left its obvious traces on my face. My eyes were watery and foggy, they were burning red and sore. My cheeks were sweltering and my face swollen.

Usually, I tried covering it up with make-up before he made it home, but tonight I just couldn't care less.

When Shawn caught my eyes, his smile slowly washed of his lips and his worried gaze stuck on me.

"What's going on, love?" he asked, walking towards me.

Shawn reached out to stroke my sore cheek, but I pulled away from his hand. His dark, confused eyes caught mine, as he wrinkled his forehead in confusion at my reaction.