Insomnia // Shawn Mendes

// part xi

{ It's a bit of a sappy ending and it's incredibly short. Also, I stole a bit from John Green's Paper Towns again. Thanks for the support throughout this story. Hope you enjoyed it. Vote, comment and enjoy. }

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shawn // part xi

We’re standing outside the recording studios when the good-byes become unavoidable. Jasmine twirls her car keys between her fingers, staring pointedly at the ground.

I force a weak smile. “I’ll call you when we get home.”

“Text me when your plane lands tomorrow?” she says, her voice tripping at the end so that it sounds more like a question.

“You have my word. And I’ll see you. We’re not done seeing each other.”

“We didn’t get to go to Subway...” she says, pouting slightly.

“There’s always next time,” I assure her, a small smile creeping across my lips.

“Make sure you tell me when you’re in New York next.”

“Of course,” I promise. “But I’ll call you in the meantime.”

“Not if I call you first.”

I shake my head at her attempt at humour. She looks up, meeting my gaze for the first time. Her brown orbs are sparkling with the threatening onset of tears, but she clenches her fists around her car keys defiantly, determined not to let the tears fall. My throat feels as dry as sandpaper. By imagining these futures, we can only hope to make them real.

“I’ll see you then,” she says softly.

I stand on this narrow street, realizing that I’m far from home with a girl I love and cannot follow. I hope that this is the hero’s errand, because not following her is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I expect her to get into the car, but she doesn’t. She blinks up at me as the dappled light of the morning casting shadows across her face and the light breeze flowing around us in soft tendrils, evaporating the physical space between us.

I press my lips to hers, my stomach writing at the sudden contact. The kiss is tentative and gentle at first, her lips are impossibly soft, but it grows more insistent, more desperate. Her fingers fiddle with the hair at the nape of my neck and my hands trace over her arms, one arm on her back, pulling her closer towards me. She tastes faintly of vanilla but more strongly of crushed almonds and lilacs and everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

After we kiss, our foreheads touch as we stare at each other. And as I gaze into her soft brown orbs, all I see is a boy and a girl, who promised to fall in love, not with each other, but in those city lights.