shawn mendes imagines

we're in love, aren't we? (part 2)

In a drunken haze, she stumbled over her heel and laughed at herself but she didn't notice the look on Shawn's face. It was the last thing that she was expecting to see - guilt, doubt, uneasy. Maybe he was about to vomit all over her brand new jeans she bought just for him and just for this trip or maybe she had just said the few words that Shawn dreaded to hear.

"We're in love, aren't we?" She asked, trying to catch her breath from the mix of the dancing and the nerves and panic that was ensuing inside her. "I mean, I know I am. I'm in love. With you," she rambled. "I can see you're in love with me, too, but you won't admit it. But you are. Right?" Shawn blinked at her and the car that was waiting for them honked and she swallowed a mix of her pride, saliva, and baby barf. "Just tell me that you love me, too."

The words had sobered him up more than anticipated and maybe it was the shock of it all or maybe it was the sudden realization that this was becoming more real than he was ready for and how can you break your best friends heart without losing them?

It wasn't that Shawn didn't love her - god, did he love her - it was the spotlight and the stardom and the touring that made his heartache. He wanted more than anything to kiss her and tell her yes, yes I love you, too and it was nice standing under the street lamps in the few moments that it took her to speak because in those few moments he could pretend that it was all going to work out but now, with her hiccuping and waiting for his answer with pleading eyes, he couldn't tell her anything except, "no."

"W-what?" She stuttered, stunned by his answer and the car honked again and she was confused by his lack of eye contact with her. "You don't -"

"No, I can't love you, okay? Don't you get it?" He was quick and harsh with his answer and looked at her with cold eyes and she remembered how he was holding her hand earlier and she wished that she could go back to that moment before she fucked it all up but she swallowed the memory.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered to herself and nodded as Shawn stepped off the curb.

"We should go," he said, looking both ways before crossing the street to the car that was not-so-patiently waiting for the pair and she trailed behind him like a sad puppy that got scolded for giving too many kisses. Shawn didn't hold the door open for her and he didn't sit close to her and went straight to his hotel room without a single word.

The sun rose and she stared at the ceiling of her hotel room, her head pounding from her hangover and she rummaged through the memory of Shawn and last night. Looking for a warning sign that what she was wrong. That he didn't love her the way that she loved him but all she saw was his hand holding hers, his smile beaming at her with more happiness than she's seen on anyone's face and a lifetime of forehead kisses and shared beds where he sometimes pulled her close in the middle night and she sometimes didn't mind.

Their entire friendship was compiled of their love for each other whether it was as dramatic of her showing up to Italy to surprise him or him writing a song about her and playing it in front of thousands of fans or as miniscule as her crying on his shoulder when her heart got broken again and him threatening to beat him up even though he totally would not.

She fell in love with the way that he played the guitar and hummed out songs before they even had any words and the look on his face when she beat him in board games when he didn't even let her and the subtle smirk he gave her in the middle of a show when he'd catch her eye.

She couldn't believe that he didn't love her because you don't write beautiful melodies for people you don't love and you don't sing those songs to the girl you're not in love with and hold your breath until she tells you she loves it and you don't show her off to the world in Italy.