For Him - Shawn Mendes

thoughts OF us

And I should be happy, but as Andrew mumbled on over FaceTime about how these songs will liven the World Tour, all I could think about was how damn lonely the tour is going to be. Dad can't visit because his business is under so much pressure he has to work extra hours, and he won't let Aaliyah come without him.

Which makes me mad, on her behalf, because he let me go to Australia two weeks ago.

"Is there anyone home?" Rayah pokes my arm, "Earth to Shawn?"

I gulp, "Yeah, no, I studied."

Hannah eyes me from across the table, watching me carefully as the bell goes. Every one around us stands, and for a second it looks as if she's going to say something. But she doesn't, and her face joins the crowd as I'm left alone, blank and aggravated.

HANNAH

At lunch he wouldn't so much as look at me and nobody else knew why.

"Trouble in paradise?" Riley asked, his voice a whisper as I picked at my lunch. I shrugged.

He took my hand, catching the attention of Shawn as he dragged me towards the deserted hallways.

"Okay," Riley said, letting go of my hand as he leant back against his locker, "now spill."

And so I did, because the guilt was tearing me apart and the prospect of telling someone eased my nerves. Riley listened, his concentration never lost as he focused on my words. I felt bad for unleashing my feelings onto him, but he reassured me that that's what friends do.

"And you think it's one or the other?" Riley confirmed, as if my way of thinking was out of line.

I shrugged, "Well, I can't really turn up to an internship if I'm in the middle of Europe."

Riley laughed, his sun-kissed face tilting backwards, "For someone so intelligent, you're pretty thick."

"What?" I laughed, raising my eyebrows.

The boy opposite me smiled through his teeth, "You're 17, H. You have a whole life ahead of you!" he paused to run his hand through his hair. "And maybe you were born to write, but I reckon it's deeper than that. You were born to create."

He licked his lips, his eyes deadly serious. "To create stories and create poems but also to create and capture moments with photography." His voice trailed off as he eyed Shawn through the window leading to the courtyard. Shawn looked up at us, his eyes on Riley as he stood before disappearing, expressionless and gone. I gulped. "You love both English and photography..." As if he'd already said too much, he pointed to where Shawn once sat, "and that boy loves you."

"I know," I clarified, my voice soft. And I loved him too, perhaps.

Riley nodded, standing straight from his position against the locker, "Good. So go on tour with him," he shot me a smile, walking backwards down the corridor towards where Shawn disappeared to, his eyes still on me, "keep Penguin on their toes. Keep submitting stories, never stop writing."

And then he was spinning on his heels, running down the corridor to chase after Shawn, and I remember wondering if Penguin was even worth the fuss.

SHAWN

20th of November, 2015

I am almost certain I failed my Chemistry exam. I kick a stone on the side of the path, watching as it bounces unpredictably along the road, rolling into the gutter. I know I should be happy today - I have a freaking album coming out; but I can't seem to focus on anything other than the grim feeling settling in the bottom of my lungs.

School today was shit, my bike is still broken and the only thing keeping me sane is the freshness of the air. I pause beside my bike, scooping it from the bush I dumped it in this morning as I watch birds flutter in the trees of the park in front.

On the other side of the park, visible from where I'm standing, is the road that sits adjacent to mine - Hannah's street. I stand on the tips of my toes, a flash of yellow catching my eye. I don't want to etch closer, because I'm mad, but with the tips of my toes curled as I stand as tall as possible, I confirm that it's her.

I wonder why she's on the floor - and curiosity replaces anger as I find myself dumping my bike again - messily this time, as I begin walking hesitantly towards her house.

"Hannah?" I ask, standing nervously on her front lawn. Her back is to me, and she's lying on her stomach with her head in the flower bed. "What the hell are you doing?"

The girl turns, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. I try to ignore the flutter in my heart. "Well," She says, shifting from her position on the lawn, dusting grass from her jeans as she stands up. Her schoolbag sits on the grass beside her feet. She unhooks a camera from around her neck, holding it nervously in her hands, "It was raining whilst we were at school and the water droplets on the flowers looked really..." She pauses, biting her tongue, "photogenic."

I swallow the smile threatening to pull at my lips.

"And I thought I'd practise some photography, you know," Hannah shifts on her toes, "just in case I haven't ruined my chances of us going on tour."

And then I can't hold back the smile. It's explosive, like my mouth is alight with enough happiness to last me years. I'm glowing with disbelief. I stare at the girl opposite me, taking in her beauty like I'm drawing a breath.

"What?" She asks, self consciously bringing her hand to her face.

I've learnt that happiness is a curve. A curve that begins at the bottom, like returning home to find your mother gone, that stretches to the heights of joy that makes your insides squirm because you can't possibly be living, and life can't possibly be this good. It's scary, and you find you're almost too overwhelmed to smile.

The bottom of the curve is frightening and I've lived too long at the end of it. It's so deeply frightening that it takes moments like these for me to realise that in order to appreciate the peak of the mountain, you have to have stood at the base.

That's how I feel right now - and my smile from earlier has vanished only to be replaced by a buzzing feeling that consumes me as I stand before Hannah, my chest alight with contentment.

"You, uh, have grass in your hair," I say eventually, a small laugh escaping my lips as I brush it from her fringe. Hannah stands like a statue as I pull the last piece from her hairline, taking the opportunity to tuck a strand behind her ear.

She opens her mouth to speak, but it closes almost instantly as she inches closer to me, pulling me into a tight hug. I've missed this.

"Thank you" She whispers, a small smile creeping at her lips. I would return it, but I'm hovering at the top of the curve and I'm too scared to move. "For thinking about me, for the job..." Her voice wavers, "For saving us."