Shawn Mendes Imagines

33. Don't Stalk Me (S.M)

A.N: Shawn is 24 in this and got famous at 17

You plug your headphones in, about to listen to Shawn's newest album. You recall when he wasn't famous and was your friend, on the brink of becoming more than that. As soon as both of you had kissed though, his fame had taken him away from you and your near-boyfriend became less, and less than that.

He would probably think of you as a stranger now but when you remember him, no matter how long ago it was, he isn't a stranger to you. You cherish your memories with him, the few they were and you wish you could reconnect with him. At this point though, you don't know any of his contact information.

The last time you spoke with him was when both of you were 16 and it had been two months after the kiss had happened. It was when he announced that he landed a record deal and was leaving, not for good but as his frequent calls turned into none, you knew he was gone for good.

You feel your phone vibrate beside you and you remember that you're about to listen to his album. It's a message from an anonymous number so you don't bother to read the message right away, opting to listen to the album.

As the songs pass, you declare that they're all beautifully written and as he sings, you remember when he would sing to you, an original song of his own with his lovely voice.

The last song of the album comes on and you wipe your tears away, not wanting to have any present for the last song. The song begin to play and you notice the familiar sound of the strumming guitar, gentle and quiet at first, then rising louder in sound. You try to think of where you've heard the tune before and when he begins to sing, you know where it's from.

The song he used to sing to you.

Your tears slip out again and you can't help it, not even bothering to wipe them away.

Your phone vibrates with a message again and you decide to open the messages.

###-###-####| 5:25 pm
Listen to my newest album? Shawn Mendes? Out now?

You gasp as you seriously question how this person — who seems to be Shawn, got your number. You check the second message.

###-###-#### | 6:00 pm
I hope this isn't too stalkerish but I guess you listened to the last song. The song for you. Don't cry.

You cover your mouth quickly with your hand and you look around the room, making you shut the blinds.

It can't be Shawn.

The doorbell rings. You hesitantly go to the door, opening it and you cry when you see that it's actually Shawn.

He hands you a bouquet of red roses and hugs you as you cry.

"What— what are you doing here? How did you even—"

"I remember you. I remember all those times when we were 16 and all the good times we had— I remember it all. I never stopped thinking about you since then but with my fame, I didn't want to bring you into all of it. Fame can be too much to handle sometimes, in terms of privacy and I didn't want for you to deal with it. I decided though, if you want me then you'll be able to accept that I'm famous because as much as there are bad things, there are also really amazing things to it."

"Shawn, I— I don't care! I want to be with you, I never stopped thinking about you either and— the fame didn't make me not love you back then, so it certainly won't now!"

"You loved me?" He asks, seemingly surprised.

"I— yes! And honestly, I still do now."

"I love you too," he tells me.

He brings his lips to yours and as he kisses you, the flame returns, all the feelings you felt when you first kissed him— return.

When the kiss ends, you can't help but ask, "you were stalking me?"

"No! No, I have people that can find phone numbers and the addresses so I found you through that. I didn't mean to be a stalker!"

"I know," you say, laughing.

"I won't ever make it seem like that again!"

You nod and rest your head on his chest, thinking of the last few, lonely years you had without him.

You declare, in your head that the lonely years are now gone, forever.