Shawn Mendes Imagines

XIII ✧ ENOUGH

  His voice was raspy as he breathed through the phone. Exhaustion laced his voice. He always had a bad habit of overworking himself.

  "I just don't know how much more of it I can take." He whispered. My heart ached for him. I wanted nothing more than to hug him. To run my fingers through his hair and let him know that everything would be alright.

  "It's like," He continued, "Everyone is putting so much pressure on me. I have to be perfect, but I'm not."

  I sighed. "You push yourself too hard, Shawn. You work your ass off-"

 "But it's not enough, Y/n!" Both of us were beginning to grow frustrated. It was a little past four in the morning, and neither of us had gotten a wink of sleep.

  "Don't say that." I shook my head as if he could see me. "Shawn I've watched you strum that fucking guitar until your fingers bleed. I've heard you in the studio, belting out high notes until your voice gave out. You put your heart, soul, and your entire physical being into what you do. I've never seen someone work so hard in my damn life. Fuck being perfect, you're human. Perfection is unattainable, but you're as close to perfect I've ever seen. And that's sure as hell enough."

  The line was silent for at least a minute. I could hear him breathing through the line.

  "I fucking love you."

  A small smile arose on my face. "I love you more. Now get some sleep, rockstar."