Insomnia // Shawn Mendes

// part x

{ A/N - The object of this story was not to create a story in which the characters were particularly extraordinary or doing remarkable things. Jasmine and Shawn are just two teenagers growing up and trying to find themselves, who happen to fall in love over a short space of time because when they are with each other, nothing else matters except the present. They discover that one thing may lead to another. Obviously, I included a little bit of background information about Jasmine and the other characters, but nothing too detailed - mostly because it's just a short story. Vote, comment and enjoy. }

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jasmine // part x

When I first met Shawn Mendes, a talented up-and-coming musician discovered through the Internet, in an insignificant music store a few days ago, I hadn’t imagined that he’d attend my gig, eat frozen yoghurt with me or show me a recording studio – let alone kiss me. But, I suppose, one thing leads to another.

My father used this reference at least once a day in his forty-six years of existence, and he had since he was seventeen. He even had the saying engraved onto a bench in a park in his home town of Minneapolis, and a magnet of the quote pinned to the fridge in our kitchen. He said that in life there are always little signs – most of which we take for granted – which amount to something bigger, something greater and more significant. I never understood the true value of this quote until tonight.

I’d first started having insomnia for the first time in my life four months ago. I was usually a very heavy-sleeper, and would drift off within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. But since my father’s death, I’d lie awake for hours, memorising the faint cracks in the plaster of the ceiling, before finally giving up and going to watch the Weather Channel. For whatever reason, I found it soothing – the preciseness of it, the way it essentially predicted the future. I liked that the meteorologists could tell people across the country what their days and weeks would bring. They were preparing people, letting them know if a storm might be approaching them. And that way, you weren’t totally unprepared when it finally hit you. After watching the Droppler radar for a while, I would usually catch a few hours of restless, uncomfortable slumber.

Perhaps it’s he early hour of the morning or the fatigue which courses through my body, but when Shawn envelopes me in his warm embrace, his strong arms cradling me in a life-preserving prison like he doesn’t want to let me go, I feel the familiar pull of sleep tugging at me invitingly.

“I can’t wait for the world to hear your song,” I tell him softly, casting my mind back to the track he played me earlier. It had stirred the same excitement and adoration in the pit of my stomach that was reflected in his eyes when he first hit the play button. “Even without my drum feature.”

He laughs softly. “You sound like one of my fans.”

“I’m your biggest fan,” I say earnestly. It wasn’t true until the words slipped past my lips. I realize then that I want to support him in the same dedicated way a fan would, except of course, more intimately.He shoots me an odd mixture of a grin and a yawn and I lean my head against his broad shoulder. My thick curls fall over my face like a curtain, shielding my features from Shawn’s view.

He murmurs something inaudible into my hair before sleep drags him away from me. I pause for a moment, inhaling his scent deeply to try and imprint it on my senses whilst I still can. I detect lemongrass and driftwood and something masculine which makes my stomach churn. Soon, he will be gone, and as will the endearing effect he sparks within me. Maybe we will keep in contact, or maybe I’m just a new notch in his belt. But, right now, it doesn’t matter.

It’s only moments before slumber wraps me in its welcome embrace. And I sleep more soundly than I have in months.

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