You and Me, Forever

Your Favorite Color Under The Light [2]

Disclaimer: THIS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.

This is a converted imagine off of Tumblr. All credit goes to owner/ writer.

This da link of the original imagine: https://shawnjpeg.tumblr.com/post/182640195620/your-favourite-colour-under-the-light-2

***

The next morning, Shawn awakens to a slapping on his shoulder and a hiss of, "Shawn!"

His tired eyes have formed little crusts around them, sleep evident as he yawns and sniffles, trying to blink himself awake. Just as he brings his hand come to cover his mouth as he yawns, a hand slaps out and hits his face, making his hand bang against his mouth. He lets out a quiet groan of pain, complaining, "Don't hit me."

It's of needless protest, as all Camila replies with is, "Then get the fuck up, you didn't mind me choking you last night!"

When Shawn awakens, he sees Camila frantically moving around her room, pulling up a pair of jeans and messing her hair up as she pulls on a satin white shirt. Buttoning it up loosely, she runs into the bathroom, hastily combing her hair, hoping she looks at least a little pretty to look at, before darting to her living space. "Shawn Mendes, get out of here now!"

Groaning, Shawn gets up, pulling on his suit lazily once more, letting the blazer be shrugged over his forearm as he walks out after a good five minutes. Five minutes was enough time for Camila Cabello to shove a granola bar into her mouth, grab whatever juice packet she could find, and wear her shoes. She's waiting by the door, pulling on a black long jacket, and is perching up a pair of clear glasses on her face. "Okay, you need to leave so I can leave."

"It's a Saturday?" points out Shawn, rubbing his tired eyes.

Camila's reaching out for the singer, curling her fingers around his bicep and tugging him out the door. "I know," she confirms, "but I was supposed to be in Pickering thirty minutes ago for a fucking brunch, now quick!"

"But –"

"Really not the time to argue about how your fly is down and I didn't say anything," huffs Camila, locking up before jogging to the elevator. At this, Shawn frowns, eyes dropping to his pants and finding his fly properly intact. When he looks up at her, she is looking over her shoulder, commenting, "You're too gullible, Shawn Mendes."

Rolling his eyes, Shawn catches up with her as they pile into the elevator. An awkward silence presses down on them and Shawn looks like he wants to say something desperately. She leans against the elevator wall, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot away impatiently. She thinks of saying something. Anything. But the elevator doors open in those moments when Camila finally gathers enough decent words to formulate a conversation.

"Dude." Camila stops from departing to her own path and turns to face Shawn. He's looking at her, hands tucked into his pockets. He opens his mouth and closes it, before opening it again to let sound come out of his mouth,"I . .I'm wearing the same clothes as last night."

"I realise that, just now."

He rolls his eyes at her unnecessary comment and continues, "It's broad daylight and we're near my home and I don't have my car."

It clicks in her. "People will see, assume things and make stuff up?"

At this, Shawn ducks his head, a coat of sheen redness covering his cheeks as he rocks back and forth on his feet. "Well, they aren't going to make stuff up when the assumptions are right. ."

Camila stuffs her hands into her jacket, biting onto her lower lip, as her eyes try to focus on all but him. But he's standing right there before her and she purses her lips, before muttering out, "Want a ride?" Her voice is distant, obligatory and her eyes drift to his hair. She has never communicated with a one-night stand as much as she is with him. It's funny to her - it's a one-night stand who also happens to be Shawn Mendes. And now she is forced to drop him off back home. She was really hoping he would have done the walk of shame because she does not have a clue as to what kind of conversation you share with someone you have just fucked. Turning on her heel, she beckons him with a nod, "Come on, Mendes." Smiling gratefully, he follows her and they get into her car in dead silence, not wanting to make anything more awkward by speaking.