#Shawn emends ff

[lonelyreputation]

Sixth Step

A/N:  Hiiii! For all you angst lovers out there––Here’s some angst! We love the angst! all of it!!! This was a request sent in and I had a lot of fun crafting a story around the sound of a staircase! 

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Thanks a million to everyone who has read my stories! I appreciate and love you all to bits!!💗

PROMPT: The squeak of an old wooden staircase

Chat Chat Chat | MASTERLIST

Warnings: Angst (!!!), underage drinking, and a swear word or three

Word Count: 8.4K

                                                   |  2004  |

You didn’t know what moving to a different neighborhood meant at six years old.  You didn’t have any bearings that the town you were moving to was three hours away from where you previously lived.  So it was rather confusing when your parents informed you that you wouldn’t be able to play superheroes with your neighborhood friends the following weekend.

You liked having the boxes piled up on top of each other throughout the house; it made for good hiding places when playing hide-and-seek.  But then the boxes began to disappear, so did the window curtains, and so did the furniture.  You now had nowhere to hide when playing.

With your tiny arms crossed over your chest, and a permeant pout on your face staring out the window, you felt sad about leaving your friends.  You didn’t want to find new people to play superheroes with.  What if your new friends didn’t want to play superheroes with you?  You had stopped your fussing an hour into the drive when your dad promised you ice-cream if you behaved the rest of the way.

You hadn’t said a word to them since.

You saw the skyline of a city you weren’t familiar with––Toronto, is what your parents had said––and soon the highway began to morph into more residential streets.  Trees lined the streets and kids played in their yards, all running to the side of the road when your car passed.  You don’t know how much longer you were in the car for until you saw a Welcome to Pickering sign.

A few more turns down a few more unfamiliar streets; you stopped outside of a house that had a nice sold sign out on the front lawn.  Your father parked the car, got out, and tried to unbuckle you with your arms still bitterly crossed over your chest.  Your father didn’t say anything, and instead let out a sigh of relief, when he got you out of the carseat constraints.  He said something to you, but you ignored him as you grabbed your teddy bear, walked over to the front lawn, and sat up against the pretty white sold sign.

A new house, you thought to yourself, your old house was better.

You sat on the lawn as you watched your parents take the brown boxes you hid behind during hide-and-seek and carry them in, one by one into the house.  The pout on your face deepened until a soccer ball came rolling toward you.

But the soccer ball wasn’t the only thing coming toward you.  A boy with scraggly brown hair ran at you full speed.  You clutched your teddy bear tighter to your chest as the soccer ball stopped right in front of you.  And the boy quickly stopped running before he barreled into you.

Out of breath, he was bent over and leaned his hands on his scrawny knees, “Hi, I’m Shawn,” You rolled the ball toward him and didn’t say anything.  He picked up the ball, “My mom told me there would be new people where the Phillips used to live.  What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” you loosened your grip around your teddy bear.

Shawn smiled, “Do you play soccer?”

You shook your head and offered him a counter question, “Do you play superheroes?”

Shawn’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped, “I love to play superheroes!” He said with excitement, “Oh, gosh, Brian’s gonna be so happy that we’ll have a new friend––“

“Y/n!” Your mother called you from the front door, “Come pick out your room!”

You nodded at her and stood up, holding your teddy bear by its arm, “Wanna come pick out my room with me?”

Shawn eagerly nodded his head and was running past you to your front door, “I know the best room in the house!  Peter had the best room.”

You giggled behind him as you kept up with his pace.  Your mother smiled down as you ran in the house.  You let out a short and hurried, mom this is my new friend Shawn, before the two of you were racing up the steps.

The staircase was wooden and tall.  You almost were out of breath until Shawn abruptly stopped in the middle and pointed down at a specific step, “This one creaks a lot.  Mrs. Phillips didn’t like the sound of it.”  Shawn softly stepped on the stair, his legs not long enough to extend up to the next step, and the staircase let out a high pitched creak.

You covered both of your ears with your hands, the sound reminiscent to nails scratching on a chalkboard.  Carefully, you tried copying Shawn’s movements of stepping on the particular stair with ease, but to no avail, the step creaked again that sent shivers down your spine.

“C’mon, you need to get the best room in the house,” Shawn tugged on your wrist.

You forgot about the cruel sound of the wooden step and chased after Shawn with a smile on your face.

                                                     |  2013  |

“Be quiet,” you leaned out of your window to whisper yell at Shawn, “my parents are asleep.”

It was dark so you weren’t able to see Shawn’s facial expression, “Just hurry up.”

Instead of a verbal reply, you picked your phone off your nightstand and sent him a text message: give me five minutes to change.  He responded with something about telling you not to take long.  Not thinking that his message was worth responding to, you shut your window softly and quietly turned the locks shut with a soft click.  You changed out of your sweatpants and into shorts as you decided to keep your long-sleeved shirt on.

You grabbed your phone and house key as you tip-toed across your room to the door.  You opened it as cautiously as you closed it behind you, not wanting to wake your parents up at quarter to midnight. 

With your shoes in your hands, you slid your sock clad feet across the wooden floorboards until you got to the old staircase.  You had never dreaded them more until this very moment.  Ever since you moved into this house, your parents always talked about getting it fixed, but they never stayed true to their word.  Oh, how you wished they had.

You slowly stepped down on the top step and it was silent.  One, you mentally counted in your head.  You slowly brought your second foot down so you were standing on the top step.  You can do this, you prepared yourself for the next step, two.  Two steps down, four to go.  As you continued to mentally count the stairs, you paused when you got to stair number five.  You can do this, you repeated to yourself mentally, it’s just a stair.  

With a hand on the banister, you used it as an anchoring point to hold on tight until you skipped over the sixth step and had your foot firmly placed on the seventh step.  You let out a deep breath as you kept yourself steady as you moved your second foot down on the seventh step.  No creak.  You smiled and patted yourself on the back as you continued to quietly walk down your staircase and sneak out the back door.

You picked your bike up that was leaning against the side of your house and walked it over to Shawn, who had his own bike.  His phone screen illuminated his face as he looked up, “Finally.”

“Hey,” you scolded him as you rolled your bike onto the street, Shawn following you, “You know how hard it is to sneak out with that staircase.”

Shawn rolled his eyes as he swung a leg over his bike and started to peddle.  You followed his actions and the two of you were biking down your street.  The ride was filled with mindless conversation as the humid summer air hit your skin.  The party that you were both invited to was being held at someone’s house whose parents were away for the weekend.  And that schoolmate just so happened to have an older sibling of legal drinking age and was able to provide alcohol.

Once you arrived at the house, both of you leaned your bikes against the side of the house, not wanting to draw attention to your bikes from the other residential houses, and entered through the back gate––the text said to come through the back and knock four times, pause, and then once more, Shawn said–––and as soon as the secret knock was completed, you were in the basement with a red solo cup of something in your hands.

You and Shawn had stayed pretty much joined at the hip since arriving.  Every refill of a drink, you got together; every conversation, you had together.

There was only one time you and Shawn were separated and it was when you were dragged to the bathroom by your friend Alex.  You stood outside while they did their business.  There were a few times you had to turn away stumbling drunk teenagers, and it was fairly comical, because you weren’t too far behind your drunk classmates.

After a few more minutes, you heard the toilet flush and the faucet turn on promptly.  Alex exited the bathroom and hooked their arm around yours, “Have you seen the eyes Shawn’s been giving you all night?!”

You stopped walking, blocking the narrow hallway to the bathroom, “What?” You leaned back and stared at Alex with raised eyebrows, “He has not been giving me eyes all night.” 

“I bet you that he’s staring at you right now.”

You peered over Alex’s shoulders and searched the room for Shawn.  It only took you a few moments, he always stood out in a crowd to you, and while he wasn’t staring at you, you could see his eyebrows scrunched together.  His head scanning the room.  

“That doesn’t mean anything.” You unhooked your arm from theirs and crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest, “He doesn’t like like me.  Not in the way I like him.”

Alex rolled their eyes, “You’re best friends!  It’s destiny!  You came to a party together!  You’re supposed to fall in love!”

“Keep your voice down,” you hushed your friend as you looked over their shoulder.  And just when you peered over, Shawn’s eyes connected with yours and you felt the all too familiar butterflies erupt in your stomach.  God, you really like like him.

Shawn smiled and waved at you to come back over.  Alex noticed your attention not on them anymore and turned around.  Once they got a look at Shawn waving you down, their head slowly turned back toward you, eyebrows raised and a smirk delicately placed on their lips.

“Not a word,” you glared at Alex as you walked away from them and over to Shawn.

Alex laughed as they trailed behind you, picking up drinks for the both of you in the kitchenette area.  You stayed at the party for a few more hours until you and Shawn both decided to call it quits.  While both of you weren’t drunk, you two weren’t sober either.  Still giggly with flushed red cheeks, you got your bikes from the side of the house and biked back to your street.

“That was really fun,” you smiled and looked over at Shawn.  The street lights casted a dim light on him, “we should do that again sometime.”

“Thanks for not leaving my side,” Shawn confessed, “I was really nervous.”

Luckily, you showed up at your house right as Shawn let his first ounce of nervousness shine through.  You hopped off your bike and put your kickstand up when you reached the top of your driveway, “What do you mean?  They’re your friends too.”

Shawn got off his bike seat, but his legs were still planted on either side by the peddles, ready to hop back on the seat and ride away to his house, “Yeah I know…It’s just,” his hands gripped his handlebars, knuckles turning a slight shade of white, “Since I started posting those singing videos they haven’t been super…nice.”

Your shoulders fell at his confession.  Shawn had been posting his videos to YouTube and to a new app––Vine––and while you were supportive of it, some of his classmates saw it as a way to tease him.  His confession about his lack of confidence sobered you up.

You left your bike and walked up to him, placing your hands on top of his.  Shawn’s eyes looked down at your touching hands and then back up to your comforting eyes.  

You thought to yourself; Does he feel it too? The electricity?

“It’s easier said than done––but don’t––they don’t know what they’re talking about,” you slightly stumbled over your words, “They’re just shitty people with nothing better to do,” you squeezed his hand, “This––You’re gonna do great things Shawn.  I know great things will come from this.  And I’ll always be there cheering you on.”

Shawn smiled as he let out a soft chuckle, “It’s just for fun, posting the videos.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Whatever it is or whatever comes from it,” you gave him a pointed look, “I’ll always be there for you.”

Shawn’s smile grew wider and he tilted his head to the side slightly, “You looked really pretty tonight.”

Your heart swelled up so much that it felt as if your oxygen supply had been cut off.  You felt as if you were floating above the pavement.  Shawn called you pretty. Your crush called you pretty.

“Thanks––That’s uh––You looked pretty…too,” you hadn’t had any alcohol to drink in the last hour, but you were drunk on him.

Shawn returned your beaming smile.  It was silent between the two of you, not knowing where to take the conversation from there.  You had been best friends since you moved into the neighborhood ten years ago and not once had the two of you not had anything to say to each other.  But this was uncharted territory.  You didn’t know how to further this conversation.

“I––uh,” Shawn’s smile turned into one of remorse, “I should probably head home, get some sleep.”

You retracted your hand away from his in lightning speed, oh, god, you thought to yourself, I messed this up––I shouldn’t have called him pretty––He probably doesn’t like me back––I’m such an idiot.

Shawn didn’t seem to notice you internally panicking as he sat back up on his bike, reaching the tip of his sneakers on the pavement to keep him somewhat balanced, “We––Are you busy tomorrow night?”

Your panicking came to a cease, but you didn’t let your hopes up too high, “Is there another party?”

Shawn shook his head side-to-side, “I was––There’s a new pizza place in town and I was wondering if you’d like to try it…with me.”  He seemed to struggle as much as you getting your words out.

You felt a small bubble of excitement fester in the pit of your stomach, but you were still weary, “With Brian or––“

“No.”

And just as fast as Shawn cut you off, a smile quickly made its way onto your face.

“Just––I want it to be just us.”

You nodded your head, “That sounds nice.”

Shawn nodded his head slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “It does sound…nice,” he pushed his kickstand up with the heel of his foot, “I’ll text you?”

“Text me,” you smiled as you watched him bike away to his house.

You were smiling as you quietly walked your bike to your back yard and leaned it up against the wall.  You took your shoes off, losing your balance a few times, before you leaned your hand flat against the side wall to support you.  Once they were off, you unlocked the door, and slid your way across the wood floors.

Sure, you were still tipsy from the party, but nothing compared to how drunk you felt a moment ago with Shawn when he asked you out.  It was difficult to concentrate on anything when you were in his presence.  He had this aura around him that instantly made your worries disappear into thin air.  It was the closest thing you felt to believing that magic actually existed.

You made it to the staircase, it seemed steeper than before, but you just chalked that up to being tipsy.  You were able to bike home with Shawn in one piece, you could handle going up the stairs.

One, you counted to yourself…Two.

You couldn’t believe that you were going on a date with Shawn––Three––Never in your wildest dreams did you ever dream that this would happen.  You thought you were just destined to be best friends for the rest of your life––Five––Maybe you should’ve taken Alex’s advice sooner and just asked him out yourself––Six.

Six.

Before you could stop yourself from placing your whole foot down on the stair, your eyes widened as the cursed sixth step screeched out an unbelievably loud creak.  With your whole foot pressed down on the step, it sounded as if a grand piano had fallen down five stories.  

Shit.

You quickly skipped your way up the stairs, praying to God that you didn’t wake your parents.  You thought you were off the hook when you made it to the top of your steps without anyone coming out to check on the noise.  With a hand on your door knob, you had just twisted it down when another creak sounded.

The creak of a door.

“Y/n?”  It was your dad, “What are you––It’s nearly four in the morning.”

“I got––I’m thirsty––Went down for some water.”

Your dad almost bought your excuse.  You felt so close to escaping his gaze and being in the comfort of your bed.  You didn’t know if it was the stumble of your words, they were slightly slurred together, or if it was your wobbling that you tried to stop by holding onto the door knob until your knuckles were white. 

“Are you drunk?”

You shook your head fast, trying to deny him, but that only caused you to become nauseous, “No––“ 

But you couldn’t even finish your sentence before you darted to the hall bathroom, a sound uglier than the creak of the sixth step emitted from the bathroom when you threw open the toilet lid and stuck your head in.  Your dad was behind you, pushing the loose strands of your hair back, “You are so grounded,” he chuckled.

Not being able to argue or defend yourself, you nodded, accepting your punishment.  The only thought swirling around in your head was how you had to tell Shawn you needed to reschedule your date for tomorrow night.  But it wasn’t a big deal, because Shawn had gotten caught by his mother and was grounded as well.

                                                    |  2017  |

You didn’t care that you stepped on the cursed sixth step, or that you placed your suitcase on the stair as well.  You flinched at the sharp creak, but payed no attention to it, as you continued to carry your suitcase down the stairs.  It was only a carry on bag, but you still needed both hands to walk it down the stairs.

Your mother rounded the corner dressed in an apron and a whisk in her hand as she scolded you, “Y/n, please watch out for the stair!”

“Sorry, mom!” You set your luggage down at the bottom of the old staircase and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

She gave you a forgiving smile and walked back into the kitchen, “Remember to text me and your father when you get to the airport, when you’ve boarded the plane, about to take off, landed––“

“––And when I’ve made it past security, when I get in the car Shawn has scheduled, when I make it to the arena––yes mom,” you repeated her list of requests as you stole a cookie that was on the island cooling down, “Chill, I got this.”

She stopped her mixing and let her shoulders drop, “I know…I know,” she let out a sigh, “Are you sure you want to visit him on tour?”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, stealing another cookie and talking with your mouth full, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just that…He…You two haven’t always had the most stable relationship over the years.”

You were about to take another bite of the cookie when you suddenly felt a bit nauseous.  Your mom wasn’t wrong, you and Shawn didn’t have a good track record.  You were dating Shawn for two years when he decided he wanted to call it quits right before he opened up for Taylor Swift.  You were crushed.  You cried into your mother’s shoulder for two weeks; thinking you were never going to find someone like Shawn again.

But after three months of being officially broken up, Shawn called you up saying how stupid he was for breaking up with you, and begged you to take him back.  Blinded by your infatuation for him, you took him back in a heartbeat.  Things were a bit rocky as he finished up tour with Taylor Swift, finding his footing with his new sense of fame, but when he returned home to you, things were wonderful.

Things were wonderful for six months until rumors about him and Camilla Cabello started making their way to headlines of every magazine.  You ignored it at first, knowing that Shawn liked you, but when it got to the point where some pictures were leaked that made it look like Shawn and Camilla were more than friends, you confronted Shawn and told him it made you uncomfortable.  His only excuse was that it put his name in the news and would help his career.  

You broke up with him.

But two months later, after you had stolen a bottle of wine from your parents alcohol cabiet, and sat on the roof with Alex, crying about how much you missed him––you drunk dialed him and apologized for overreacting.  

The two of you were back together for three months until your next break up.  You don’t even remember what that one was about.

But after sitting down, and having an adult conversation about what needed to change on both sides in the relationship, you two were back together.  Above anything else, the two of you agreed that your friendship was the most important thing, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it.  But after deciding that the two of you couldn’t go back to being just friends like the time before you were both fifteen––you decided to give a relationship another chance.  

It had been a little less than a year since that talk and you were happier than ever.  But you could understand the hesitation your mother had.  She had spent more than enough nights holding you tight when you felt like your world was falling apart, whispering encouraging sentiments in your ear.  

“You’re best friends with his mom,” you deflected the question, “Do you think she thinks the same about me?”

Your mother glared at you and wiped her hands on her apron, “Karen doesn’t have anything to do with this,” she took a seat on the stool next to you, “If you’re happy, then I’m happy, I just want you to feel comfortable.”

“I’m fine mom, we’re…” you trailed off looking for the right words, “We’re doing fine.  No break up in sight.”  Your mother raised her eyebrows at you and you swatted the air, “We're doing really well.”  

She left the conversation off there to die and went back to baking her cookies.  Twenty minutes later your dad walked down the stairs, breathing out a tiny shit, when he stepped on the sixth step.  Both you and your mom cringed at the screeching sound.  Jingling his car keys, you hugged your mom bye, took hold of your suitcase and walked out the door with your dad who was dropping you off at the airport.

You were a ball of nervousness as you waited at your gate to Glendale, Arizona.  Your leg rapidly bouncing up and down didn’t hide your anxiety well.  So you texted Shawn.  He responded a few minutes later, saying he was in between some tour stuff, but would continue to text you.  A smile crept onto your face thinking about how even though Shawn was busy, he was still making time for you.

•••

Houston, Texas was blistering hot.

You didn’t know if you were used to different weather back in Canada and overreacting to the heat down south, but a tear was shed every time you saw someone walk around in jeans; and that included Shawn.

“Are you alright up there?” You brought a fist up to Shawn’s head and lightly knocked it, “Need a doctor?”

You were lying down on a couch in Shawn’s dressing room in the Toyota Center, and while the air conditioning was on full blast, you still didn’t understand how Shawn could be wearing jeans.

Shawn pushed your hand away, but not before it got too far.  He tangled his fingers with yours and rested them on his chest.  You smiled as you snuggled further into his hold around you.

“I just don’t think about it,” he shrugged his one shoulder, “It helps that we’re inside.”

You rolled your eyes and stretched your neck back to look at him, “You’re insane.”

“Insane for you, darling”

Darling.  It was one of the only pet names that Shawn called you and it never failed to make your insides erupt in pure bliss.

You rolled your eyes once more and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “You’re nice.”

“I don’t get anything in return?” He playfully scoffed, “I gave you a compliment and I don’t get one back?  What kind of relationship are we in?”

You untangled his arm from around your shoulder and leaned your upper body up to hover over him with a smile, “You are incredibly handsome and I’ve been insane for you since we were fifteen.”

Shawn’s bright eyes disconnected from yours and went to stare at your hands that were still together on his chest.  He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, “Don’t know how you’ve put up with me for so long.”

Your heart melted, and not in the typical way it does around Shawn, your heart sunk at the deflated sound of his voice.  It brought you back to the night when you were fifteen and Shawn confided in you that he was nervous to go to a party.

“Hey,” you softly whispered as you gently leaned back down on the couch and cuddled into him.  He instantly wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in tight to him, afraid that if you were to move an inch, you would be gone forever.

You brought your free hand to stroke along side his face until he looked at you.  His eyes were wide and full of sadness, “No one’s relationship is perfect, and yeah we’ve gone through some…tough times,” Shawn flinched as if replaying every single breakup between the two of you, “But we’re here,” you squeezed his hand, “We’re here and better than ever.”

Shawn released your hand at the same time he retracted his hand from around your waist.  Oh no, you thought to yourself, I messed this all up––I said something wrong––He’s pulling away.  But with your negative thoughts quickly entering your mind, they left as you saw Shawn was just adjusting his position.

He shifted from lying on his back to resting on his side; his chin on his propped up arm and his free hand twirling a strand of a loose piece of hair.  He was silent as he twirled the piece of hair between his index finger and thumb, carefully choosing his next words.

“You deserve so much,” he dropped the strand of hair and cupped your face with his hand.  You wanted to lean into his touch, but your stomach plummeted as your mother’s words echoed in your head––you two haven’t always had the most stable relationship over the years.

You screwed your eyes tight and held your breath, preparing for the worst, “Are you breaking up with me?”

Shawn’s thumb stopped rubbing soothing circles on your cheek, “Wha––No, Y/n––That’s not––Shit, it probably sounded like I was, but I’m not––Hey, look at me please.”

After a few seconds of deep breathing to calm yourself down, you opened your eyes to see Shawn’s panicked ones already staring at you.  He tried to soften his eyes, and his smile came out as more of a grimace, but in your mind you knew that you probably looked petrified too.

The two of you took a couple of extra seconds to collect your thoughts.  Shawn was the first to speak, “What I meant to say––You deserve so much and I’ll spend everyday trying to live up to your standards to go above and beyond what you deserve.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession.  While the two of you did have a rocky relationship, you knew Shawn always tried to be the best version of himself.

“I love you,” he whispered those three words at you like the two of you would whisper into your walkie talkies you got when you were twelve, “I think I’ve loved you for years now.”

Your heart skipped a beat.  It was the first time he had said those words to you since you started dating.  There were plenty of times, when the two of you were just friends, and those words were  said before hanging up the phone after talking for a long night––love you––he would say in a lackadaisical voice.   But this was different.  This was the I love you saved for a partner you were serious about.

“Think?”

Shawn let out a soft laugh as he brushed his nose against yours, “I’ve known that I’ve loved you for years now.”

“I love you, too.” You barely got the sentence out before his lips connected with yours in a burning passion.  

It was a sweet kiss, not so much delicate as ones you had previously shared.  Shawn slightly leaned his head to the right and hooked his arm around your neck, pulling you flush up against his chest.  

You had one hand pressed up against Shawn’s chest and your other hand grasping onto his shoulder to keep you upright and balanced from the dizzying kiss.  His lips were soft and warm––it made you your stomach feel like it was doing summersaults.

A different kind of spark ignited within your body.  A different kind of love.  You had loved Shawn as a friend since before you knew what the word really meant.  And right now, as one of Shawn’s hands glided up your shirt and squeezed your breast, you felt like you knew what the word meant in the unconditional sense.

The love you felt for Shawn was unconditional and one you wished to never let go.

                                                     |  2019  |

“Karen told me Shawn hasn’t been eating much of his dinner.”

You looked up briefly from taking notes and shrugged your shoulders, “Maybe he has the flu?”

“You haven’t been eating much of yours either.”

You looked up from your textbook with a sigh and leaned back against the kitchen chair, “Maybe I have the flu?”

“Y/n,” your mom gave you a stern look, “You’re home for fall break––with the intention of seeing Shawn––and you’ve seen him once? Twice?”

“Three times,” you grumbled as you picked your pen back up and went back to jotting down notes.

The first time you saw Shawn when you were home was at his apartment in Toronto. That was a fantastic time alone together.  The second time you saw Shawn was when he took you out to dinner at the pizza place where you had your first date. That was lovely.  And the third time you saw Shawn…The third time you saw him was at a house of a mutual friend who was having a bonfire.  That time was not so pleasant.

Brian had drunkenly brought up how Shawn had been working on a new song with Camilla Cabello.  Not that Shawn had to clue you in to everything that happened in his life, you would’ve appreciated if he told you that.  You weren’t the biggest fan of her––how she was always publicly pining after your boyfriend made you uncomfortable.  But she was a friend of Shawn’s and could relate to him on the level of fame they were at, so you respected their friendship.

But it didn’t sit right with you when Shawn conveniently left out that he had been working with her for months.

Your mom stepped around her next words carefully, “And you two are––“

“We’re fine, mom,” you snapped at her.  You quickly apologized, the stress of university and Camilla weighing down on your shoulders.  Something was not settling right in your stomach.  The more you pushed it further down, the more you felt like you couldn’t stop thinking about it.  And you knew the only way to get the feeling to go away was to talk it out with Shawn.

The thought of that terrified you.

Camilla had already been the cause of one of your many breakups, you didn’t want her to be the reason for another.  Not when everything with Shawn was so good.  Everything was ideal, everything was perfect.  Shawn and you had been together for three years without a break up.  That was your longest streak to date and you were doing everything in your power to keep the fragility of your relationship alive.

“I’ll send him a text,” you offered her a piece of information that would hopefully get her off your back.  She said that calling would probably be best.  But you told her you didn’t have time to talk on the phone and that you would text him asking him to meet up.

You quickly grabbed your phone that was on top of a few notebooks and tapped away a message: Wanna go on a walk later?

The phone vibrated in your hands before you could even set it back down on the table; Please, the message read.  It was like he was waiting by his phone for any sort of communication from you.

Let me finish up this chapter of notes and then we can go? Like 30 minutes?

Your phone vibrated once more, I’ll meet you at your door x

You thumbs-ed up the message, wanting to get a quick response to him and head back to your notes.  This was the last of your coursework you needed to complete before you went back to school in a few days.  You just had to get through the chapter and then you could relax.  But all your mind could think of was the walk you would be going on with Shawn in thirty minutes.

Why were you nervous about seeing your boyfriend?  It wasn’t the butterflies you got in your stomach nerves when you first started dating.  This nervousness was a seed that had been planted long ago that kept growing and growing until it consumed your whole body.  Thirty minutes was too long and not settling well with whatever you were feeling in your stomach.  And it didn’t do your school work any justice if you weren’t paying attention.

You grabbed your phone and pulled up Shawn’s contact; finished the chapter early, you shared a little white lie over text, ready to go now?

Walking to your door now.

You put your pen in your textbook as a bookmark and closed it.  You slid on your sneakers and hurriedly tied the laces together.  You called out to your mom that you were going out on a walk with Shawn and that you would be back later.

You opened your front door to see Shawn with his fist mid-air, preparing to knock.  He seemed just as surprised as you to see him standing on your porch.  And you took the time to really look at him.

His hair was disheveled, curls out of control, and slight bags under his eyes.  His face looked a little more sunken in than the last time you saw him two days ago.  It pained your heart to see him like this.

“Hey––Uh––You ready?”

You nodded your head and stepped out into the brisk autumn air that made Pickering feel like home.  You closed the door behind you and reached up to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug.  Shawn immediately circled his arms around your waist, pulling you close into his chest.  You squeezed your eyes tight and breathed in his familiar scent that brought you comfort on your most troubling days.

You knew the purpose of getting together was to go on a walk, but you didn’t want to leave the embrace, and it seemed as though neither did Shawn.  His white cotton shirt was soft and you swore you could fall asleep right then and there.

Shawn pressed a kissed to the top of your head, “Feeling alright, darling?”

You stiffened in his arms at his simple question that held a heavier answer than the typical answer of I’m fine.  Shawn took notice in your change of posture and took his arms away from around your waist and took one of your hands in his, “Let’s take a walk, yeah?”

A nod was your only response as you let him guide you down your driveway and into the street.  His hand that wasn’t holding yours was anxiously picking at loose skin against his thumb.  When you noticed his actions, you proposed to him the same question he asked you, “Feeling alright?”

Your eyes were trained on his anxious hand, and when he took notice of where you were looking, he stuffed his hand in the pocket of his gray sweatpants, “I’m––Are you?”

“Turning the question back on me?” You let out a soft laugh as you swung your hands back and forth.

Shawn went along and over-dramatically swung your hands, “I asked you the question first.”  You shrugged your shoulders as you continued to swing your hands back and forth.

It was silent between the two of you for five minutes as you turned a corner off your street and walked alongside the grass when you saw an oncoming car.  When the car was gone, you were back to walking in the quiet street.

“I’m sorry,” Shawn blurted out, “I should’ve told you about writing with Camilla.”

You nodded your head, “Thanks…”

“But?”

You let out a deep breath and looked up at him, “Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me?”

“I––“ Shawn looked like he was about to answer truthfully, but then went with something that sounded along the lines of a media trained answer, “I know how you feel about her.”

“I’m fine with your friendship,” you clarified for him, “I just don’t get––she’s your friend––why wouldn’t you tell me that you’re writing a song with a friend?”

He was silent.

His palms began to feel sweaty and you gave him a reassuring squeeze, “Shawn, above anything else––I was your best friend before I was your girlfriend––talk to me.”

He let out a shaky breath, “Andrew wanted me to do something.”

You stopped walking momentarily, causing Shawn to stop walking as well.  He grasped onto your hand tight and looked down at you with pleading eyes for you to understand, “Something?”

“He––He wanted to have some stupid article written about us––Camilla and me––about how writing songs together made us realize––but I said no.” Shawn quickly threw out the rest of his explanation when he saw your eyes widened and hand start to slip away from his hold, “I said I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He was withholding more information.  You didn’t know how you could tell, but you could feel that he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

“And?”

Shawn let out another deep breath and ran his hand through his already unkempt hair, “He called me yesterday.”

“And?”

“He wants me to go out to lunch or something with her––look like we’re more than friends––to boost the new song.”

You didn’t know if you preferred the media trained answer or the truth.

“You’re––you’re not saying anything else,” you stammered out.  Before, when he mentioned the article he said he rejected the idea.  But he was silent after this explanation, “Why aren’t you saying anything else?” 

“Y/n––“

This time, you were successful in ripping your hand away from Shawn’s hold, “You’re really considering it?  Really considering taking her out on a date just to boost your sales?”

“It’s not a date, she’s just a––“

“Friend,” you seethed out, “Shawn, you know how I feel about her!”

“She hasn’t done anything to you!”

You took a small step away from him.  You couldn’t believe that he was defending her in front of you instead of defending your relationship with him in front of his manager. 

“She drools all over you whenever you’re around!” You tried your best to keep your voice leveled, not wanting to have a full out argument with Shawn in public, “Hell, whenever you’re mentioned, she latches on to it––Oh, Shawn and I are the best of friends––Oh, Shawn is so dreamy––Oh, Shawn––“

“Are you jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Shawn was silent for a moment, he pinched his lip between his thumb and index finger, “It’s just one lunch––We’ve gone out to lunch together before.”

A piece of your heart broke off every time he defended her, “But this is different.  You’ll have to sit next to her instead of across the table from her.  You’ll have to hold her hand,” your voice wavered and you bit your lip to try and keep your emotions hidden, “You’ll have to look like you’re in love with her.”

He was silent.  His eyes softened, looking at you as if all those scenarios hadn’t gone through his head.

“She’s already caused one break up,” You stared down at your scuffed up sneakers as you breathed out, “do you really want her to be the reason for another?”

Shawn straightened his posture, “Who said anything about breaking up?”

You crossed your arms over your chest out of insecurity, you wanted to be guarded from Shawn in every aspect, “You’d be going out on a date with her––“

“It’s not a date.”

“Have you thought of how it would make me look?”  A single tear escaped from your eye.  Shawn made a move forward, a hand stretched out, wanting to wipe it away himself, but you stepped back, “I’d be written off as Shawn Mendes’s stupid lovesick teenage sweetheart who wasn’t good enough for him so he runs to Camilla–––“

“You’re not stupid––“

“I feel like it!”  You raised your voice.  It caught both of you off guard.  A few birds flew away from the tree you were stood under, “I feel stupid because we keep playing these games, Shawn.”

“There aren’t––What games?”

Shawn stepped forward once more, but like a dance, you stepped back.  

You felt another tear fall from the corner of your eye, staining your cheek, “We’re together, we break up, get back together, break up,” you stared into the heartbreak that shined so bright in his fiery eyes and choked out a sob, “Aren’t you getting tired?”

This time when Shawn stepped forward, you let him touch you.  You let him place both hands on your shoulder, softly rubbing them as his hands carefully trailed down your arms and to your hands, where he tangled your fingers together, “But that’s us. We’re complicated and––and sure we break up a lot––but so do lots of other people and we always get back together––I’ll try harder, I’ll be better.”

You shook your head side to side as you felt Shawn’s hands clutch yours.  He wanted you to say something, begging you with every squeeze of you hand, but you continued to shake your head no; you felt your throat constrict and the stinging behind your eyes intensify.

Nostrils flared, Shawn paused to think over his next words carefully, “I love you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you whispered as the tears behind your eyes grew too much for you to hold back, surrendering all control to your feelings, you let the tears slip through.  Shawn made no move to wipe them away, and you let them trail down your face as a reinforcement to him as to how he was making you feel, “It feels like you’re picking her over me, your girlfriend––your best friend.”

“It’s one lunch––“

“I can’t believe you,” you were struggling to keep your tone neutral, but failed as you tore your hands away from his and brought the sleeve of your––his––sweatshirt to wipe away the tears that couldn’t stop falling, “After everything––everything we’ve been through?  You’re picking––“

“You know I would never fucking pick my career over you,” Shawn cut you off.  His voice was full of a mix between anger and determination to get you to believe him, but you could also see that he felt hurt, “You’re worth more to me than any of this.”

“Am I?”  

His sweatshirt on your body felt as if it was melting into your skin.  You wanted it off.  Hastily, you took the sweatshirt off and threw it at him.  He made no move to catch it as he let it drop to the pavement.

“Y/n––“

“I can’t––Shawn, we can’t…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say that you didn’t want to be together with him.  Because, God, all you wanted was to be with him.  All you wanted was to feel safe in his embrace again, all you wanted was to hear him annoyingly talk through every movie you saw together, all you wanted was for him to love you unconditionally; like you loved him.

He took a step forward, “Don’t do this,” Shawn pleaded with you.  

You gritted your teeth, jaw rigid as you felt your world collapsing around you,“Don’t go on that date.”

He looked away from you, kicked a pebble to the side of the road, and played nervously with his hands, “I can’t––This song means so much––“

Your heart was hanging on by a weak thread and it had just snapped.

Your choked sob cut Shawn off on his own.  You brought a hand to cover your mouth, to somehow mask the sound of your cries as you looked up at the sky.  There wasn’t anybody up there looking out for you.

“Don’t––Don’t you ever dare call me again.”

In every fairytale, the boy always chased after the girl after a climatic scene; whether it be after a professing of love or a break up, much like the one you just had with Shawn.  The girl always wanted the boy to chase after her, and was always upset when he didn’t.  But this wasn’t a fairytale; this was a game.  Shawn didn’t chase after you and you didn’t want him to. 

The short walk back to your house was silent as you sobbed alone.  You made it to your front door––the last place you hugged Shawn––and a fresh wave a tears surfaced.  Your body trembled as you shakily opened the door.  You tried to keep your sobs to a minimum, not wanting to alert your parents of your state, but you heard it.

You heard the screech of the creaking floorboard.

You pressed your back against the door.  It felt as if you were floating, an out of body experience––This one creaks a lot––you could see a six-year-old Shawn and yourself running through the house, up the stairs, and suddenly stopping on the fifth stair as a little Shawn smiled at you and pointed down toward the sixth step––Mrs. Phillips didn’t like the sound of it.

You slid down the wall as you replayed through every detail of your friendship: sleepovers, prank calls, matching halloween costumes as you trick-or-treated through out the neighborhood.  And then you replayed through every detail of your relationship: stammering words as you two didn’t know how to cross the line from friends to more, delicate touches, the first night you spent alone together at his Toronto apartment, heartbreak.

“Y/n?”

The sound of your mother’s voice only caused you to let out another loud sob.  Your cries were so loud that it covered the sound of your mother taking another step on the sixth stair as she rushed over to you.  

She knelt down on the ground in front of you and tried pulling your hands away from your face, “Y/n––Sweetie––Are you hurt––It sounds like you were in an accident, please, tell me if you need to go to the hospital––“

“We’re done, mom,” you finally gave up and let her pull your hands away from your face.  Her face fell as she took in your appearance; raggedy hair in all directions, flaming red face, and bloodshot eyes with tears still heavily falling down.

She pressed a hand to your forehead, “You’re burning up dear.”

“He––He doesn’t love me.”

Verbalizing your worst nightmare didn’t make it any better.  Verbalizing it only made it more real.  Verbalizing that Shawn didn’t love you shattered your heart.  The shards of your broken heart ripped apart every part of your body that was touched by Shawn.  And there was not an inch of your body left untouched by him.

Everything hurt.

Your mother didn’t say anything.  She only did what any good mother could do to comfort their child during a heartbreak; she wrapped you up in her arms, the only place you felt safe, and rocked you back and forth until you stopped crying.

You cried all through the night and into the next morning.  

The inside of your head pounded with a splitting headache when you awoke the following mid-afternoon.  Everything that happened yesterday seemed like a fever dream––it had to be a dream––but the dead weight in your chest where your heart was supposed to be reminded you of it all.

He wants me to go to lunch with her––You squeezed your eyes shut to hold back the tears–––She hasn’t done anything to you–––You buried your head beneath the pillow, doing everything to block out the echoing words of Shawn belittling your concerns–––I love you–––You never wanted to hear anyone say those three words to you ever again–––Don’t do this–––Your bottom lip trembled as you bit your lip to conceal your cry of heartbreak––This song means so much.

Your muffled your tears into your pillow, no doubt staining the cover.  This break up felt different than the other times.  Every time, you were able to pick up the pieces and repair your heart.  Every time, you found it in yourself to forgive him and fall in love with him all over again.  Every time, you lowered your standards, preparing yourself for another inevitable heartbreak.

But this felt different. Everything felt different.

Your pale ocean blue walls mourned with you.  Your bathroom that Shawn would hide from your parents in when he would sneak over felt tainted.  The high pitch screech of the sixth step…Didn't sound as ear splitting.

You made your way to the kitchen, slumping into one of the bar stools and rested your forehead on the cool counter.  The sound of a ceramic mug sliding against the granite countertop caused you to slightly lift your head.  Your mother stood on the opposite side, a trying smile on her face.

“Hi, darling.”

Darling.

You sucked in a deep breath and held it in as you tried blocking out the memories associated with that word.  That word would forever be intertwined with Shawn and there was no way you could separate the two.

Avoiding her eyes, you slowly nodded your head.  Your eyes darted around the countertop, searching for your phone that you left on it after you returned from the walk with Shawn; your ex-boyfriend.  A pang of pain zipped through your chest as you reached for your phone and flipped it over.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.  You didn’t know if it would be better to have a hundred missed calls and twenty unread text messages or nothing at all. You didn’t know what outcome you wanted.

So when you tapped on the screen to illuminate a picture of you and Shawn; cheeks smushed together as the two of you faced the camera to smile with his arms wrapped around you––Your eyes shut tight in happiness, his eyes open wide with love––you saw nothing.

There were no missed calls, no unread text messages.  Your lock screen was void of any contact from Shawn.

You clenched your teeth together as you flipped your phone upside down and slid it across the counter to your mom, “Change––change my home screen.”

“Y/n, darling––”

There was that word again.

“Change––” you sniffled as you looked down into your dark tea, “––It,” a single tear slowly fell from your eyes, painfully slow down your cheek, as it splashed into your tea creating a ripple.

“Please,” you said in a choked voice barely above a whisper.

You had told him to never call you again––To never have any contact with you ever again.  And at the time yesterday, you meant it with every bone in your body.  But Shawn had always texted you after a break up.  He had always texted you to check in because, first and foremost, he was your best friend. 

Was.