One Shot with Shawn Mendes - Collection

IRMELA

You get back to the apartment you share with Shawn, and it's still plunged in darkness. It fits your mood right now, so you leave the shades as they are and go back to bed, still dressed. Shawn is only a few steps behind you, so he joins you in the bedroom, but sits at the foot of the bed.

"Irmela, are you okay?"

You only make a faint sound from under the covers, neither indicating that you're okay nor that you're not.

"I know today was tough," Shawn starts. "And I know you, I know you need me here. But I can't force you to talk."

He pauses. He knows you've been having a very hard time since your dad passed suddenly, and he always wants to be there for you, but he also knows you sometimes need space.

"Can I crawl in with you?" he asks.

You unfold the covers as an invitation, and he cuddles up against you, still in his suit. You both stay like this for a while, lightly dozing off as he runs his fingers through your curls.

You wake up around 6 o'clock and, even though you barely had a few finger sandwiches earlier today, you're not hungry. You can still smell food coming from the kitchen, so you get up and walk towards it. You see Shawn making two plates with different dishes from your favourite take out restaurant.

"Okay, that makes more sense," you say. "I thought I woke up in an alternate universe where you can cook!"

"I was just about to check on you, see if you wanted some food. How are you feeling?"

"Well, I wasn't hungry a minute ago, but now I can go for a egg roll," you say with a faint smile.

To see you smile, even the slightest smile, lights up Shawn's face. He brings both your plates to the living room and you both sit down to eat. He traded his suit for a more casual t-shirt and jeans, while you're still in your black dress. You eat mostly in silence, but it's comfortable. You love to know Shawn is there, both literally and figuratively.

You finish eating and cuddle into him. His presence eases your pain a bit, and his arms around you are like a balm on your heart.

"You know, Irmela, I have no idea what's going on inside your head. And I want to respect your space, but I also know that you can't bottle it all up or push people away."

You're listening, still staring into the distance. You still don't feel like talking, but maybe it means you have to force yourself out of your comfort zone. But is Shawn ready for this? He's running his fingers up and down your arm and continues:

"No matter what you say, I won't love you less, you know that, right?"

You take a deep breath. You want to speak. But you can feel the words get caught in your throat and your mouth gets dry. You sit up so you can catch your breath, but it's only getting worse now. Your hands are shaking and your words come out as sobs.

Shawn gets up from the couch in a hurry and crouches down in front of you.

"Oh no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" but he stops himself. He knows that's not what you need to hear right now. "Irmela, shhhh, calm down, it's okay. I'm here. You're not in any danger."

Your breathing is still shallow and rapid, your heart is pounding in your chest and you can't say a word through the crying. You can usually calm yourself down, but this is one of the biggest panic attacks you've had yet. Shawn grabs your hands and runs his thumbs on them.

"Irmela, look around. And name five things you can see."

He waits for you to answer. Still stuttering through shallow breaths, you muster:

"I see, uh, the coffee table. And uhm, the TV. There's our dirty dishes. I see the shades are still drawn, and the lamp is lit."

You're a bit calmer, but speaking still isn't the easiest.

"Okay, now name four things you can touch or feel," Shawn asks you.

"Uh, I feel your soft hands in mine. I feel the plush carpet under my feet. I- uh, there's- the couch I'm sitting on is soft, and my dress feels too tight on me right now."

"Okay, you're doing good. Name three things you can hear for me?"

You close your eyes to ground yourself. All you can hear is your shaky breath, so you try breathing out as slowly as possible.

"Well now I hear myself breathe out!" you laugh. "I can hear... The fridge is making a little noise in the kitchen. And uh, my heart. It's still beating fast."

"That's good, Liebling, now two things you can smell."

It forces you to take in deep breaths through your nose, calming you even more.

"I smell the left over Chinese takeout. And my hair still smells like my vanilla shampoo."

"And you know I love that smell," Shawn says, a proud smile on his face. "Now one thing you can taste?"

"I taste the peanut sauce from my chicken dish. Maybe I ought to brush my teeth!" you joke.

Shawn looks at you. He leans forward to steal a kiss.

"You're good," he whispers as he sits back down on the couch. "Are you feeling better?"

Your breathing has slowed down, your hands are no longer shaking and your heart rate is back to normal for the most part. You're even making jokes!

"Yeah, I am. Thank you. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I wanted to talk, but my body wouldn't let me."

"No need to apologize, darling, I never want to force you. I wish I could put myself in your shoes. I wish I could take away all your pain. I wish you never had to feel hurt again."

"But you can't. Only I can do this. I have to do it. On my own."

"Oh Irmela, never on your own."

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