#shawn mendes fluff

Shawn thinks he can switch between dating and not dating Y/N when it’s convenient to him.

Word Count: 4K

Thank you to the anon who requested this!

-

“Can I get another tray of shots?” Shawn giggles, cheeks tinted a bright red as they glow under the lights of the noisy club. His soft cheeks are bunched together as he smiles, and the more he drinks the floatier he feels.

Shawn tries to push the memory to the back of his head, the tears glistening against her chicks. The way her voice would squeak as she tried to form cohesive sentences through a faceful of tears streaming across her face, and perhaps, just her. The look of her supple lips engraved in his mind, pressing painful bruises into his memories and he wishes the drinks could drown her away.

Y/N walks in through the front door of the loft, body tired from running around all day. Her eyes scroll carelessly around the living room, but then she spots Shawn on the couch, hands fiddling with his fingers in her lap as he sips on a cup of tea.

“Y/N, I think we should take a break.”

And then he sees her pause for a bit, eyes still flickering between him and the ground to process the information, maybe trying to convince herself it isn’t real. That it isn’t happening, but it is. The person she loves, telling her he doesn’t want her anymore. And so the bottle of water she had held onto for the entirety of her day falls to the ground, and she croaks out a shaky word.

“W-what?”

It’s no use, evidently, because every time he tries to push her out of his mind, she reappears in small flashes.

And deep down he knows it’s his fault, knows that he was childish for thinking she would wait for him. He knows that there were better ways of handling the situation, perhaps any way that didn’t involve losing her. But here he was, drinking in a club in London after telling the girl he loved that he wanted a break.

“I just think we should take a break when i’m in Europe! That’s it! Just for a few months.” He rushes to tell her, he wants her to know that he still wants her, that he still loves her and wants to be with her afterwards. He just wanted some time, to figure out who he was before he was with her.

“I-If you think that’s what’s best.” Y/N has stuttered out, pips trembling a bit as she tried to keep herself together. She had  hand placed on the kitchen counter, supporting her weight as she took his words in. He didn’t want her, he wanted to drop her and then take her back because of what was convenient to him.

Truthfully, Y/N was devastated, and she reconsidered even being with him at all many times. The break he’d suggested hadn’t made her understanding, or made her sure about being with him at all. If anything, it had made her skeptical, and it had made her wonder just how easily he thought he could slither out of their relationship if needed.

So when Shawn had called her two weeks into the break, telling her he’d made a mistake and that he didn’t want to lose her at all, he was heartbroken when she replied on the other side of the line.

“Shawn, I…I don’t know.”

Shawn couldn’t stop picturing her in his head. He opened his eyes and things reminded him of her, he closed them and he envisioned her with someone else. Tugging at his hair, he downed another hot shot of liquor, throat burning as the music made everything seem woozy.

Maybe she’d found another guy? Perhaps his reckless decision of breaking her heart by saying what they had was easily disposable had led to her finding another guy, someone who would never ask her to break up and get back together with him when it was convenient. Maybe he’d messed up the only love he’d ever had.

He pictured the softness of her face when she would walk outside in the cold, the way she would look around with her eyes narrowed when she woke up in the morning and didn’t know where she was. The little indents on her cheek, and the hair ties she left around the flat.

“You don’t know?” Shawn runs a hand through his hair, letting out a scoff as his worry shows through his voice (and sounds a bit too close to anger). He can’t help himself. He’d just recently come to the epiphany of how stupid the idea alone was, and now he was being faced with the repercussions of it. Right after he’d realized what he’d done, he was being faced with the consequences.

“What do you mean?” He was worried quite a bit before, but when Y/N stays silent on the other side of the line, no nervous rustling or any indication of movement there, he’s properly panicking. Hand running through his curly locks, he rushes through all the possibilities of what she could say next.

“Shawn, when you just…paused us like that when it was convenient for you.” Y/N shakes her head on the other side of the line, “It just made me wonder how much you actually cared, I just need time.” She admits, chest tightening as she hears his breathing grow heavier through the phone.

Shawn stumbles off of the seat to the bar, legs a bit wobbly as he stares at the tops of people’s heads. Everything is blurry, yet he’s extremely confident in what direction he’s heading in. He remembers seeing a restroom near the back of the club, but somehow ends up in the middle of a mass of dancing people.

When he feels someone brush over the front of his jeans, a girl trying to grind into the tight denim material, he wants to enjoy it. Wants to forget about Y/N, and he wants to touch her like he touched the girl the week before.

Shawn hadn’t meant for it to happen so fast. He’d just been caught up, it wasn’t necessarily cheating since him and Y/N were on a break, a stupid one, but nevertheless a break.

So why did it hurt so much thinking about it?

After it had happened, Shawn was ridden with guilt, he was beyond worried that she would find out. But more importantly, he was worried of their relationship. He had slept with someone else, yes, but it was his fault. He was sure Y/N wasn’t prancing around, sleeping with guys all over her campus. And that’s why he’d realized just how much it’d mean to lose her, the one girl who would have the decency not to hurt him, no matter how much he hurt her.

“Baby, no, I care so much.” She hears him choke out, “So, so much.” Shawn’s head pounds, heart aching as he realizes he might actually lose her. The air feels thick all of a sudden in his large hotel room, and he tries to change her mind.

“I can’t have you thinking this, tell me we can fix this.” He rambles.

“Shawn - “

“Tell me you’re with me, Y/N. Tell me it isn’t over for us, please.”

Shawn’s fingers brush over the curve of the random girl’s hips, feeling a thin silky material there. Her hair is long, brushing against his abs as they move to the beat of the shitty rap song. Everything is a bit of the blur, but grabbing onto the soft skin of her waist calms his nerves in the blaring environment.

So he begins to trail kisses down from her ear to her neck, swiping his lips sloppily over the sweaty skin. She smells like perfume, mixed with cologne, mixed with alcohol, and when his hands wander up to grab at her breasts, he finally realizes what he’s doing.

“We do need a break, Shawn. I just, I just need time.” He hears her barely whisper into the phone. He feels guilt and hurt pinch at the outside of his heart, eyes shutting as he feels them burn with tears.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, isn’t it?” And he knows it’s his fault. Knows if he hadn’t suggested the stupid break to begin with, she wouldn’t have ever questioned his intentions, and wouldn’t have ever wanted to continue the break. And every moment spent without knowing she’s his is agony, but what makes it even worse is that it’s him who caused it.

“Shawn, it’s not your fault. I just…need to be confident before I can be in a relationship.” She breathes through the phone. And it hurts him even more, because he had caused it. He’d made her question herself, made her wonder (on top of her already amounted stress) why the hell her boyfriend wanted to break up with her for a month. Made her wonder why she wasn’t good enough to keep all the time.

She’s too nice, he thinks, so nice that even though they both know it’s his fault, she chooses to take some of the blame. She chooses to tell him that it’s not his fault so he won’t feel bad for something that he should feel bad for.

“What the fuck?” He mutters into her neck, and she snaps her head around hazily to stare at him. His hands drop to his sides, head pounding, and he thinks he’s going to throw up from the guilt.

So instead of looking for the bathroom, Shawn head towards the doors of the club and retches forwards, body emitting his dinner mixed with a vast amount of the different alcoholic beverages he indulged throughout the night.

His shoulders shake when he throws up, eyes squinting, and it’s a horrible feeling, he thinks. His insides feel like they’re about to drop out of him, and the only person he can blame for it is Y/N. He doesn’t know why, but he hates the guilty feeling in his chest mixed with the ache of his throat.

“Well… you take all the time you need. I love you, okay?” It takes everything in him to force the words out, and many times throughout the sentence he wants to back out and yell, ask her why the hell she doesn’t want him anymore. Tell her he’s in love with her, beg her to let him fix it.

“I love you too, Shawn.”

And the line goes dead.

The glow of his phone screen is almost painful in his intoxicated state, clouds of vapor flooding his vision every time he breathes. His eyes hurt, and his mouth has the putrid taste of vomit lingering onto it permanently.

Clicking on her contact name, he musters up all of his drunken courage, listening to the careful rings of the phone.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounds groggy, like the voice she uses when she’s been studying for hours and finally gets home. Or the one she uses when she’s brewing coffee in the morning. Shawn assumes she’s just woken up, or something along those lines, and he basks in the smooth tone of her voice. He just wants to hear it all the time, he thinks, wants to record it and play it over and over again throughout the day.

“I love youuu” He drags out, smile etched onto his face.

“Shawn, why are you calling?” She seems a bit annoyed and Shawn’s smile drops, heart hurting once more as he processes her words. She didn’t say it back. All he wanted was for her to love him enough to be with him, but after a month of being on a break, she didn’t even love him anymore.

“You didn’t say it back?” He carefully asks her, voice gentle as he worries more and more.

“I wanted a break, Shawn. I need time to think.” She simply replies, head aching at her lack of coffee. She hadn’t expected him to call right as she’d woken up for her first job at the crack of dawn, and she certainly didn’t want to hear from him for a bit until she got her thoughts together.

Shawn furrows his eyebrows, frustrated at her words. He loved her, was in love with her, was worrying about whether or not she wanted him back, and couldn’t stop thinking of anyone but her for the past two weeks. And here she was, telling him to stop calling without even telling him she loved him.

“You know, you can be a real bitch sometimes.” He angrily spits, and Y/N would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt her a lot more than she thought it would. She hadn’t been the most well received person at all times, and she always thought he’d at least be patient and kind with her, no matter what they went through.

“It’s like, i’m in love with you, but all of this bullshit.” He thinks to himself, shivering slightly at the cold winter air, “It just makes me fucking hate you.” He throws the word out there, using it to emphasize his point, but not actually meaning it at all.

Y/N swallows a tiny lump in her throat, edges of her lips curling downwards into a frown. Her hair is messy, cheeks flushed as she puffs her lips outwards sadly, “Do you have anything else to say?”

Shawn lets a few tears dribble out, swiping them away so that they don’t freeze onto his face. From outside the club, he hears hints of the electronic music and feels the beats of the song thudding beneath his feet from how loud it is. Tequila and vomit burns at the tip of his tongue, taste buds stained with another girls perfume and it’s all he can think about.

“I didn’t mean to, Y/N.” He sadly admits, head dropping down and shaking even though she can’t see him. Y/N stands frozen in her kitchen, wearing nothing but a large t shirt and her underwear with one hand on the coffee machine in front of her.

“I hate you because you hurt me so much.”

“Shawn-”

“I cheated on you.”

And the mug that was in her other hand, the one she was about to pour her coffee into, drops onto the counter in front of her with a loud clang. Her heart leaps forward and begins to thump a lot faster than it had been doing before, her head spinning at the amount of hurt suddenly flooding over her.

“Shawn, what?” She quietly squeaks out, and strangely, she isn’t even angry. No anger traces her voice, just hints of hurt leaking out through her words.

“It-” Shawn licks at his lips, “It was during our break!” He tries to justify, trying not to hurt her any more than he already had. He wants to fix it, whatever he’s done to her, but all he can hear is her whimpering through the phone line, and all he can picture is her licking her chapped lips as she widens her eyes to stop the tears from dribbling out.

“Who was it?” She asks, she didn’t know who it could possibly be, what girl he would trust enough to do anything with merely a few weeks after they’d called it quits temporarily.

“Y/N - “ He tries to reason out of hurting her more. He shouldn’t have said it, he thinks, but he’s too inebriated to think differently.

“Who the fuck was it, Shawn!” She more urgently yells at him through the phone line. He whimpers, body shifting back a small bit as he tries to collect himself.

“Stop yelling at me!” He sobs through the phone, “You can’t keep doing that after hurting me, you just.” He shakes his head, tears falling off his face when he does, “Can’t do that.”

Shawn feels himself getting angrier. She wanted to hurt him, he conspires through his intoxicated mind. She didn’t love him, and she yelled at him, and she didn’t want to be with him. Angrily, he waits for her to answer so that he can try to hurt her just as much as he’s hurting.

“H-how many?” She asks shakily.

“Just the one, and I just grinded with another one a few minutes before I called you.” He tells her, and he can hear her sniffle through the phone line, tears matching his own as they fall onto the marble flooring of her kitchen.

“Was it good?” She asks, “Was she good?”

Y/N hadn’t been the most secure person, she needed constant reassuring that she wasn’t being too much. She always asked if people were mad at her, and she never felt secure enough in herself to think she was good at anything. So when Shawn had told he he had managed to sleep with another girl during the time of their 4 week break, she instantly had the idea that he took the break just to cheat on her. Because she wasn’t enough.

“It felt really fucking good.” He tells her honestly. He wants to tell her that she wasn’t her, that no girl ever would be enough to match up to the way he felt with Y/N, but he ducks his head in shame and plays with the inklings of snow on the black road underneath him.

Y/N sobs, body falling limp onto the floor of the kitchen. Her knees press up against her chest, body rocking back and forth on the cold floor as she tries to hold herself together. The phone is set on the floor, and through the line she hears a bass beating wherever the hell Shawn is.

“How long after we called it off?” Se asks, one hand wiping under her nose as the other holds her head up by her chin.

He’s hesitant at first, rationality debating whether or not he should tell her, but when he finally says something, he instantly regrets it, “A week.” He replies, and she recalls exactly what she was doing a week after they called it off. She was calling in sick for work, telling her boss that she wanted to use up all of her sick days, and emailing her professors to ask them if they would send her the course materials through email.

She cries harder, and she feels like the room is physically spinning around her. She wishes the building would collapse around her, perhaps knocking her out so that she wouldn’t have to face the persistent ache clawing its way around her chest.

“Hey.” Shawn whispers through the phone, “Hey, please don’t cry.” He feels bad now, his tears have stopped coming out, and he sobers up a bit as he slowly pieces together what he’s just done.

“Y/N, please stop crying.” He begs, voice cracking as he asks her again, “Please, I don’t want to hear you cry.”

Her tears are persistently falling, and she can’t even form basic words as her lips curl downwards in an ugly expression, pain filling her features as she tries to convince herself it isn’t happening.

“Stop crying, i’m sorry!” He yells into the phone desperately, pitiful tears welling up in his hazel eyes as he tries to fix what he’s just demolished.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” He pathetically cries, and when he continues to hear her heavy breathing, incoherent words squeaking out of her throat, he knows he’s messed up.

So they sit like that a while, Shawn wondering how he can possibly fix things while Y/N can’t do anything but cry into her fingers. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had, over and over again. Shawn didn’t know how to fix what was already shattered completely.

“Shawn?” She finally croaks out, and his entire body tenses at his name falling from her lips. Her voice sounds rough, and croaky, and he just wants to wrap her up into his arms and hold her until she’s done crying all the tears that she can. He wants to bring her everywhere, tuck her into his pocket and take her with him everywhere he goes because he just wants her to be with him. But how was that possible when his actions made him not even want to be with himself?

“Yeah?” He finally replies, head tilted so that it’s pressed against the door to the club.

“We don’t need this break.” She tells him, and right as he’s about to sigh in relief, “I don’t want you at all.” And that’s when he blacks out.

-

When Shawn wakes up in the morning, his eyes are barely able to wedge open before a shot of pain flood through his head. He immediately falls back onto his matress, and pulls his soft comforter over himself to guard the sunlight from hurting him.

Sighing, he drags himself out of bed, immediately smelling the putrid smell of alcohol radiating off of him. His clothes are thrown into a messy pile in the corner of the room, and he basically runs towards the shower before he can inhale any more of the smell.

After washing himself off, he grabs his phone from the nightstand. It’s dead, so he urgently plugs it in to see what time rehearsals are for his concert. His heart still aches a bit when he remembers he has no good morning text from his girlfriend to look forward to.

When his phone finally turns on fully, showing his lockscreen, he unlocks it with his face recognition and reconnects to the wifi. He has a few emails, some Instagram notifications he really doesn’t care for, but at the end of it all, he has a voicemail from Y/N.

He doesn’t know what to call her. She wasn’t technically his girlfriend anymore, even though he still considered her more than worthy of the title. He wasn’t completely her ex, seeing as they were on a break. He just wanted to be with her again, so none of this confusion would occur.

Seeing that the voicemail is rather short, merely 45 seconds, he doesn’t think it’s too big of a deal. Maybe he’d accidentally left his things in her flat and forgotten them before he left.

Without hesitation, he opens the voicemail, but he’s simply met with her sniffling, and he’s immediately worried.

“Hey.” She sniffles, “It’s crazy that i’m calling you saying this. I never thought I would have to but, uh, I think we should end things.” Shawn tenses up, the hairs on the back of his neck raising, “i just…I don’t think I could trust you, you know?” Her voice raises up near the end of her sentence and Shawn can tell she’s close to tears, “Especially after you…just a week after we took a break.” Shawn’s mind is pounding, head exploding from the information. He hadn’t told anyone about that night, about the horrible things he’d done. He never wanted her to know.

But when he hears her break down through the line of the phone, he already knows she’s made up her mind completely about being with him.

“I love you, Shawn..” She mutters between sobs, “And that’s why I can’t do this anymore, because as much as I love you, I don’t think I can feel like I deserve you. Especially after you fucked up my trust like that.” Her words are profane, but Shawn understands. If she’d slept with another guy after their break, he wouldn’t have taken a second look before cutting her completely out of his life. She was kind enough to call him to apologize, for something she didn’t do, for getting her trust broken.

Much like the night before, Shawn ends up on the floor of his hotel, downing hot mouthfuls of liquor as he sobs and tries to call a blocked number with too many memories attached to it.

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Word Count: 3k

Shawn regrets letting her go.

-

In his newly furnished condo in downtown Los Angeles, Shawn dries himself off with a towel in his marble-floored restroom. He stares at the tips of his toes, a while beneath him due to his lengthy height, and sighs to himself as he shakes thoughts out of his head.

“You know, when I come to you with my problems, I want us to talk about them. I want reassurance, not an argument!” Y/N pleads back as Shawn narrows his eyes. His hair is tousled, a bit messy with his cheeks flushed red.

“So you’re saying the arguing is my fault?” Shawn promptly bites back.

“That’s not what I said, I just…” 

“You just what?” Shawn takes a step forward to shorten the gap between them, “You just think i’m the reason we’ve been arguing for the past fucking month?” Y/N flinches, “You think i’m the reason that our relationship is borderline toxic?”

Shawn lowers his arms, weakening his defenseful stance “It’s always my fucking fault, isn’t it?”.

The two linger in silence for a bit, Y/N suppressing tears while Shawn remains heated, eyes scanning across his condo in Toronto. He wonders if it was the right choice, moving into the condo in LA more permanently. The fighting had begun once their time was severed, and while both of them knew it, they could never come to an agreement on it.

After a few moments, Shawn clears his throat, “Are you happy, Y/N?”

She thinks to herself for a bit. All the anger exuded, the misunderstandings, and the arguments.

“Honestly?” She wipes the back of her hand against her nose “No.” She expects him to ask how they can fix it, how they can manage their time to fix the strain that’s been put on their relationship.

“I’m not either.” Shawn admits. He hates to say it, really does considering he’d thought about being with her for the rest of his life.

“Maybe we should break up.”

And Y/N freezes, because she doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to lose the love of her life over a series of dumb miscommunications on both of their parts. She doesn’t want to let go of something she’s grown to love so much. They weren’t always like this, and they didn’t have to be.

But looking at her favorite boy’s stern face, with his cheeks soft and his forehead wrinkled, she can’t help but agree.

“Yeah, maybe we should”

-

The first month was terrible.

Y/N would wake up every morning with an ugly feeling in the soft part of her chest. She didn’t want to think about it, but she’d wake up and her mind would scream, “He’s not yours anymore.” and she’d be put back into the grave of heartbreak that Shawn had dug for her.

She avoided specific locations, like the pasta place they frequented back when they were together. The clothes he’d given her were in a box, stuffed in the shadows of her apartment where she wouldn’t have to see them.

But now, Y/N watches the Raptors game with her friends somewhere in Toronto. They’ve all gone out for drinks, and there’s a prominent smile painted on her face. The jersey she borrowed from a friend fits her loosely, and she enjoys her night out.

Her phone buzzes, she looks at the caller ID and a wave of anxiety crosses her being, she declines and focuses back on the game.

-

It hadn’t always been this way, two strangers, one of them now lingering onto the past while the other was almost fully recovered. At one point, they were very deeply in love. But Shawn had given up. He’d left, and Y/N needed someone who knew how to stay.

For the first few months after the breakup, Shawn didn’t think much of it. He’d go out, drink, party, and listen to his friends chant at him to sleep with other women (to which he had gladly obliged at the time). He’d wake up some mornings with an achy headache and a girl he couldn’t remember the name of lying next to him, her hair tousled all over his sheets.

But after a while, his mind seemed to wander to how Y/N was doing. Like if she’d gotten the job she’d hoped to get, or if she’d fixed the hole in the wall of her apartment. Or how her classes were going, and how she was holding up mentally.

His mind would linger on things for extended amounts of time. Any girl with long hair would remind him of her, dimples pressed into a strangers cheeks would have him thinking, and he inadvertently found himself scrolling through her instagram sometimes.

He’d thought about it, really thought about the situation. That was when Shawn realized that he fucked up, when all he could do was regret, while she was doing nothing but having the time of her life. Happy without him.

So Shawn took out his phone, punched in a familiar name, and hit the call button.

-

Y/N’s phone rings for the 3rd time that night.

She should ignore it, she has every right and every intention to ignore it. But for some reason, she finds herself excusing herself through crowds of bunched up people to pick up the call.

“Hello?” 

“Uh, hey, this is Shawn” She hears from the other side of the line, she scoffs.

“I know who this is. Why are you calling?” She wants to go back into the sports bar, and enjoy her night as soon as possible. With all the suffering she’d endured, she knew she deserved nothing less than that.

“Just…” Shawn trails off for a bit, “To see how you’re doing.” He finishes speaking, and Y/N feels a surge of anger and hurt beat up to her chest.

“Why do you care?” She swallows a pebble-sized lump in her throat, “You gave up on us, remember?”

The line goes silent for no more than 5 seconds, and Y/N hangs up. She goes back into the bar, orders a drink, and high fives her friend for the Raptors’ lead in the basketball game.

Shawn feels hurt, incredibly hurt. And, as if this could possibly make things better considering the amount of damage he’s done, he books a flight to toronto and wonders how he could possibly fix the mess he’s made.

Because somehow, even after all the times he’s washed his sheets, they still smell like her. And somehow, even after all of the words she said out of spite, she still feels like home.

-

Y/N just wanted to watch her Game of Thrones.

She just wanted to sit there, wth her bowl of over buttered microwaveable popcorn, and watch her TV show.

But instead, she’s met with a boy, a very familiar brunette boy at her door. With tousled hair and a suitcase behind him, he somehow still pulls off matching a trench coat with sweatpants of some sort.

“Bye.” She goes to shut the door, but Shawn reaches out to stop it before it closes.

After a childish round of push and pull, the door swings in Y/N’s direction and she’s distraught because it’s knocked over the full bag of popcorn that was resting halfway on the counter.

Shawn stares at her in awe. He’s never seen anything like it before, he thinks. The girl he’s still so deeply in love with, with her hair in a messy bun and her body clad in shorts and a baggy tee with her university’s logo on it.

“Leave.” She suggests again, as if she should even try with her knowledge of the boy in front of her.

“I’m sorry.” He immediately blurts out.

“I don’t care.” Y/N shrugs, and she turns around to make another bag of popcorn.

“I miss you, Y/N.”

“Must suck.” Y/N presses numbers into the pad of her microwave before leaning down to clean up the spilt kernels from Shawn’s dramatic entrance.

“Close the door on your way out.” She exclaims, before hopping on the couch to the theme song of Game of Thrones, the microwave making a slight buzzing sound in the background.

-

It’s 2 am the next night.

Y/N is stumbling across the street, shoes drenched in mud and spilt whiskey as she carries herself to her apartment. She remembered locking it, a regretful decision now that she was too intoxicated to even find her key.

But when she walks into the hallway where her place is, she’s greeted by a boy, asleep on the dirty carpet of the hallway with a bouquet of red roses grasped in his fingers.

“Get up fucker.” Y/N pokes his forehead, not having to lean down much from her short stature, “Help me find my key so I can sleep in a bed.” She slurs out, the room spinning around her. She meant to poke his cheek, but coordination proved to be difficult at the moment.

Shawn shuffles, feet brushing against the carpet before he opens his eyes and prop himself up.

“Y/N?” He questions, “You’re drunk.”

“Duh dummy head. Now help me find my key!” She exclaims, just wanting to be in the safety of her own bed.

He finds it rather quickly, tied to the shoelace of her sneakers. A clever way to keep track of it. He laughs a bit at how small her feet are, but stops once he realizes that no part of her is his anymore.

“Y/N?” She rushes into the apartment, opening the fridge and grabbing several containers of food that doesn’t mesh well together.

Shawn finds it amusing, just staring at the girl he loves eating tiny pickles out of a glass jar. And before he can think about any of his actions, with his mind only focused on the fact that she was drunk beyond belief, he says it.

“I love you.”

Y/N chokes a bit, mouth full as she spits some chewed up pickles out into the sink.

She coughs for a bit, but then fails to make any noise. All movement is halted between both of them, and just as Shawn is about to speak to end the stark silence, he hears a small whimper escape her.

Shawn feels his heart aching a bit. It throbs where it is, somehow forging a lump in his throat that makes him want to break down. He watches her crumble a bit, face scrunching as tears begin to drop out of her eyes. And all he can think to himself is that it’s his fault, that no one could be blamed for the damage but him.

“You gave up.” Y/N speaks softly, sniffles interrupting the flow of her words.

“You said I was the love of your life. Then, you gave up.”

 And it hurts because Shawn knows it’s true. And even after 4 months, 4 months of ex communication and closure, she still possesses the hurt the string of words he’d always say to her to make her cry. Because he’d broken her heart, absolutely destroyed her, and he’d expected her to wait until he was ready.

Shawn wants more than anything to grab her in his arms. He wants her tears to soak through his shirt and leave puddles on his chest, he wants to tell her that it can be fixed. But how does he assure her of something that he himself is still unsure about?

“I tried to keep in touch after but you didn’t care, did you? You never did. I meant nothing to you. I tried so hard to fix things and you just - you just left.” Sniffles echo the room and Shawn desperately wishes that he could fix things. He wishes that he could’ve seen things clearer at the moment, but he was too selfish. He cared about himself, and not at all how it would affect her. The same girl he wanted a future with.

“I love you, Y/N.” He steps forward, “I want you back.”

“You’re just gonna hurt me again.” She shakes her head, tears making zig zags as they fall, “I’ve tried so had to fix myself and it’s all gonna be for nothing.”

It’s hard, and Shawn knows it is because he has the overwhelming urge to cry. Because when they’d first ended things he’d somehow convinced himself that being without her was better than all of the arguing, that she was holding him back from bigger and better things. He’d been having the time of his life while he left his favorite person shattered.

Shawn remembered the few texts that had come right after the breakup, Y/N pleading for him to speak to her. He remembered the strings of “I love you”s and “I miss you”s buzzing on his phone. He thought it was entertaining at the time, even showing his friends how needy she was.

But now, staring at the girl he’d broken and humiliated, Shawn can’t stand to think of all the cruel things he’d unknowingly done to her. Silencing her texts, making fun of her to his friends. He feels ashamed at the amount of pain he’s caused her.

“I’m sorry.” He hears her say and he’s confused, what could she possibly have to be sorry about?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you.” She sniffles, sobbing as her face looks down into the sink. Shawn feels a knot in his chest, and the guilt becomes unbearable as his heart begins pounding loudly in his ears.

“Y/N…”

“That’s why you left, right? Everyone’s left, I just never thought it would be you.” She managing to laugh, breathing heavily through all the tears and snot.

She never thought it would be, but it was, and perhaps that was the part that hurt the most. So when she tells him to leave, Shawn obliges, wondering how to fix something he so recklessly broke.

-

They’re both half naked. Y/N’s bra is still clad on her while Shawn rushes to unzip her jeans. He’s already pulled his halfway off and he can’t help but admire everything about her. The small freckle near her hip bone, the scar she got from falling when she was younger that never fully healed.

And just as he’s about to take off her underwear, she holds his hand back.

“Wait”

“Huh?” Shawn doesn’t seem mad, or impatient, just genuinely confused at why she seems like she’s changed her mind.

“I just… there’s just something I want to know.” She shyly admits, eyes avoiding his as she picks at the lace on her underwear. Shawn stays silent and Y/N knows it’s probably his cue for her to continue.

“How many girls have you slept with?” She asks. “You know, since we ended things.”

And Shawn feels his head swirl a bit. He had to tell her, he knew he did, but he had just gotten an inkling of hope that she’d take him back. And he didn’t want to lose her again. So without too much hesitation, he swallows his pride and answers.

“Fourteen.”

And the moment he says it, he regrets it. It reminds him of the time he’d spent hours building a tower out of wooden blocks as a child, only for one stumble to make them all come crashing down. He sees her freeze, her eyes welling up in tears before she leans down and reaches for her pants.

He wants to time travel to 4 months ago, where he ended things, and just slap himself in the face. Tell himself that he doesn’t know what he’s losing. That watching her walk away will be scarier than any horror film he’s ever seen when time passes. That the love of his life was standing right in front of him, trying to fix the mistakes that he had caused, while he discarded her like she had never meant anything to him.

“Y/N I-”

“I think you should go.” Her voice wavers a bit, and Shawn wonders if he’s ever felt more disappointed in himself than he does in that moment. She slowly puts her clothes back on, suppressing her feelings as she waits for him to leave.

Shawn doesn’t know how many times it’s been, but he finds himself sitting on the carpet of the hallway to her apartment again. Thinking it’s such a shame, such an absolute shame that sometimes, all a man has to offer are the stars, to a girl who deserves nothing more than a galaxy.

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