Shawn Mendes imagines

Fight

You looked over at the large silver clock that was perfectly placed above the kitchen counter, 9:42. You shut your eyes, trying to calm your breathing and not let any loose tears make their way down your cheeks. You had done enough crying.

You looked over at the display of food on your table, everything cold and unappetizing now. You took your glass of wine, chugging it all down in one gulp and beginning to put everything away.

You tried to sort the uneaten food into Ziploc boxes, hoping to be able to eat them for lunch tomorrow. You sighed as you looked over at the untouched cake on the table. You had worked hard, so hard, to make it, and now it just stood there – uneaten and taunting you.

You felt a hot flash of anger burn through you, quickly grabbing your fork and beginning to eat the chocolate cake by yourself. This was not how you were hoping to spend your night, but it would have to do.

Half an hour later, you were bent over the sink – scrubbing the dishes, when you heard the front door open.

"Babe?" You heard his voice, your ears beginning to ring as all the anger flooded back into you, "Sorry I'm late, I got caught up in the – "

You heard his footsteps stop, a loud intake of breath and then silence.

"Baby," he whispered, you could hear the realization in his voice, but you couldn't turn around, "I'm – fuck – I'm so sorry."

You shrugged, grabbing the sponge and beginning to scrub the already spotless pot again. You cursed silently as tears began to form; this is not how you were planning to confront him.

You flinched as his arms wrapped around you, steadying your movements, "It's clean enough, love."

You dropped the pot into the sink with a large bang, Shawn stepping away from you as you turned around to face him. His hair was messy, eyes wide and puffy – he looked terrified. Good, you thought.

"Where were you?" You didn't recognize your voice, it sounded so harsh, angry.

"The studio," he mumbled, "We had an important record to – "

"More important than our anniversary?"

He flinched at your words, you could see how glossy his eyes were, tears threatening to overflow at any point, "I'm so sorry, I lost track of time and ..."

He trailed off, your hand in fists at this point, your voice shaky when you spoke, "Would it kill you to text me? Just a – hey I'm not going to be home tonight. Don't bother making dinner."

He was silent, his big eyes watching you as you began to cry. Tears slowly falling down your cheeks, "I just – God –I feel like I'm putting in so much effort, and you're just – "

"I'm what?" his voice was so soft, so unlike him.

"Distant" you muttered, "I don't know! You don't care about us like I do. You're never around – "

"Of course I care about us! But it's my job y/n, what do you expect me to do?"

"Talk to me!" You blurted, before shutting your eyes and covering your face with your hands, your shoulders shaking no matter how much you tried to stop them.

"Baby, I love you," you could feel him getting closer to you, his arms beginning to wrap around your waist, "I'm so – "

You shook your head, stepping out of his grasp, "Sorry doesn't change anything, Shawn."

You could hear him sigh, "What do you want me to do? Why can't you be supportive for like one fucking minute, y/n? This is my job – one dinner isn't going to – "