Love Story (A Shawn Mendes Fanfiction)

Chapter 15- Rescue me

Shawn's point of view

Playing guitar calmed my nerves- that's why I did it for hours on end. I would just turn off my phone, disconnect from the outside world and just play. Feel the strings scrape the skin off my fingers, feeling them vibrate under my hands, hearing the notes come out of the piece of wood like it has always intended to be such a beautiful piece of art.

Luckily, that day, I didn't turn off my phone- it was just a coincidence, I randomly forgot- but it might have saved her life.

Ring- ring

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone, until I saw who called me. Nathalie.

I looked at the clock in my hotel room, 11.51 at night. She woud never call if it wasn't important.

So I answered: "Nathalie? What is it?"

"Shawn?", a quiet voice answered me followed by a sob, sounding like she was in huge pain.

I sat up in my hotel bed: "What happened. What did he do?", hearing her like this made me clench my fists and get murderous thoughts about Jackson. I always knew it was just a matter of time before he broke her heart, but her bones as well. God, I hated him. He'll pay for this.

"I'm sorry, can you pick me up? I'm in Central Park. I tried to walk farther, I couldn't. Please...", her voice was just a whisper, but I heard her as clear as ever. Her breathing was unsteady, which made me think of either immense pain or hypothermia- propably both. And I had already grabbed my jacket and my car keys, a blanket and a pillow.

"Don't move okay. I'll go get you. I'm on my way as we speak. Stay on the phone okay? Talk to me", I hastingly pressed the button of the elevator, but luck wasn't on my side that day, so I started sprinting down the stairs, 8 stories until the basement, where my car was parked.

I unlocked the Mercedes, jumped in, started the engine and scorched out of the garage.

"Nats, you need to speak to me. Tell me something random. Something really silly about yourself okay?"

Her breath came heavy, but steadier now. Almost as if the thought of that specific something calmed her: "I told you I really liked Taylor Swift right?", she whispered. I smiled: "Yah, so?"

"Well, when I was in 8th grade I phantasized about having my wedding dance to Love Story.", she softly laughed, but immediately whimpered in pain, making me drive faster.

"I'm almost there now. Where exactly are you?"

"Cafe", she whispered, before there was a soft thud and the line went silent.

"Shit!", I cursed, parked my car, jumped out and sprinted into Central Park.

She was where she told me she'd be, leaning unconsciously against tree. I quickly picked her up and checked her body for swellings and broken bones. She seemed fine so I wrapped her into the blanket. She wasn't hypothermic either, fortunately. Spring slowly faded into Summer, so at 12 pm it still wasn't colder than 55 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). I wasn't ready to take any chances though, so I loaded her into the car and started driving to the hospital, when she woke up.

She tensed up, but when she saw my face she relaxed: "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

"YOU CAN'T!", she spoke loudly, but immediately started coughing.

"Uhhm, yes I can. I'm driving, remember.", I wasn't gonna let her lick her own wounds like a dog.

"Jacksons mother is the head nurse there. Please, I'm fine. Just take me to my dorm."

I saw how that made sense, but I couldn't let her go to her dorm like that. Not that weak and not with Jackson knowing exactly where she was.

I hit the breaks and turned to her: "Fine, no hospital then. But I'll take you to my hotel room. Someone needs to take care of you." She nodded slightly, so my room it was.

Nathalie's point of view

"I'm sure I can walk those few steps myself, Shawn.", I moaned, trying to roll out of the grip he had around my waist and my legs. But he refused: "Not happening Nathalie. You refused to go to the hospital, so you'll do what I say. Understood?", his voice was tense and didn't leave space to disagree, but his gaze was soft and spreaded concern.

He sat me down on his bed and let his fingers slide over my bruised face.

My left eye was completely swollen, my nose was bleeding and I had multiple cuts on my chin, cheeks, lips and forehead. And this was just my face.

He let go of my face and stood up, walking towards his small kitchen to pick up a bowl and a towel. I closed my eyes and let myself fall backwards on the bed, when I heard water running. Next thing I heard was him turning the water off and making his way towards me with long steps.

"Can you sit up?", he asked me, but didn't leave time for me to answer. He laid his big hand on my back and gave me a push up into a seating position.

"I'm gonna kill him.", he said absentmindedly, while he dunked the towel into the steaming water and put it on my face carfully, to clean off my blood.

It didn't hurt when he touched me. He was so gentle with the towel over my wounds. His touch was so soft, when he stroked my hair out of my face, how he caressed my hand in his. His eyes were so warm, full of concern, when they wandered over my face.

He saved me.

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Daughtry