Shawn Mendes Imagines

Christmas Imagine #2 - "I Didn't Want You to be Alone on Christmas."

You were up almost all night. You thought maybe the rain outside would work for noise, but the rain soon stopped and was replaced with snow, which was silent. You were supposed to be there by now, on Christmas Day, but the stupid storm ruined everything.

As soon as you began to drift off, after hours of lying awake, you heard a slight buzzing sound in the back of your head.

At first, you thought maybe it was your imagination. You keep your eyes shut and continue sleeping, feeling the weight on your eyelids all at once.

Buzzzz.

You ignore it.

Buzzzz.

Irritated, you lift your head from the pillow and look around the room, almost fully alert. It suddenly hit you that the noise was real-- and it was coming from where your cell phone sat on the beside table.

The screen was illuminated, displaying the photo of a person you'd never thought would be popping up on your phone again.

You hesitantly pick it up, raising it to your ear.

" ...Shawn?"

His voice on the other end was heavy, and quite horse, which was understandable with the hour, "Y/N."

You stammer. "W-why are you c-calling m-me? It's-- "

"Three in the morning, I'm aware."

You couldn't believe you were hearing his voice. You had to pinch yourself to be sure you weren't dreaming, which was a definite possibility.

"We need to talk," he adds.

"Right now?" You rub your eyes with the ends of your fingers, pulling the duvet up to your neck.

"Well, I've been trying to call you ever since this afternoon, but it's been going straight to voicemail, until now."

You take a moment to realize that all the noise outside had stopped, exchanged for silence. The storm was finally coming to an end.

"Why today?" you ask, confused. "I thought you were mad at me still."

"I was," he responds, "but I couldn't bare the thought of... okay, I knew you were driving to your parents' house, and I heard there was a storm in that area. With you not answering your phone, I was just worried. I wanted to be sure you were safe, and alright."

"I'm fine," you croak. "Is that really why you called?"

"That," he mumbles, "and that I didn't... I didn't want you to be alone, you know, on Christmas. We talked about spending it together, and I bailed out on you. And then there was the worst thought in the world, that you were out there in the storm, and.. "

You were holding your breath. You didn't dare respond.

"... I miss you, Y/N.. "

You sink your teeth far into your bottom lip, until pain rushed through your body. Your fists tight, body cold, you stutter, "really?"

A pause on the other end.

"Really."

"I'm so sorry about everything," you breathe out, realizing you finally had the chance to have a conversation with him that didn't result in him screaming at you.

"You've mentioned that," he chuckles softly. "I know I never said it, but I do forgive you. It's been so long, long enough for me to get over it and accept your apology. You were right all along, you know. I just wish it didn't take me so damn long to figure that out."

You couldn't help but smile like an idiot. It was really happening, he was saying he missed you, that he forgives you-- something you had been dreaming about for months.

"You're my only one, cuddlebug," his voice cracks on the other end.

You couldn't say anything. Your throat was too hot and tight.

"These past few months have been so terrible; it's hard to sleep without you here with me. It's hard to pass by your favorite restaurant or see your friends around town, or realize that you've stopped sending me daily texts that get ignored, you know, that you've given up.

"I mean, you were mine. Sometimes I still think of you that way. I still imagine you here, and it hurts so bad being alone. God, I miss you so much. I miss your adorable smile, and your cute phone messages, and I miss all of my t-shirts being gone from my dresser because you stole them all. I want to be together, and I waited much too long to tell you that. You probably already hate me, don't you, babygirl?"

Hearing him call you that was heartbreaking. It didn't sound the same, it didn't sound happy, it sounded hopeless. Desperate. Like a cry for help, a test of reassurance.

You thought about his t-shirts, still in a laundry basket on your bedroom floor back home. You weren't sure what to do with them, so you left them there, wearing them to bed on occasion.

"I.. I miss you, too, Shawn." Your voice was quiet, and you couldn't even hear it, overwhelmed by the loudness of the voice in your head. "I could never, ever hate you."

"That's quite reassuring."

"Christmas isn't the same without you," you admit, scoffing. "We had all these plans that were different from last year, and the year before. I wanted you here. It's hard for me, too."

"How about we talk when you get back?" he asks, his voice waking up a little. "You're probably tired."

"I am," you say, and it felt perfect, being able to talk to him about things that you used to discuss in the past. "I'll be back on Sunday. We can meet up Monday if you like."

"I can't wait to see you, God, it's been so long. It'll be better than a picture."

You smile to yourself. "Thank you for calling me. You just made my crappy Christmas so so so much better."

"I can't believe it," he says softly. "I have my girl back. It's a f.ucking Christmas miracle."

***

I barely made this, but it's still before midnight in oklahoma, so.