For Him - Shawn Mendes

no angels IN this mess

SHAWN

August 4th, 2027

I stumble from the back door of the premier venue and into a dark side street, my exasperated body reaping in the cold air of the night. My breathing is accompanied by an aching that refuses to end. It never, ever ends. The pain is too much, it's too much it's too much and my hands are on my head and I'm rearing back and my mouth is open in a never-ending wordless scream.

The ground is wet from the day's rain and as I fall to my knees I allow the concrete to cool my shaking body. I'm sweating, my cheeks are saturated with salt from tears, and I miss him.

I miss him.

Grunting, I stand, squinting my eyes at the haze that surrounds the street lights. Across the street, a man in a green hoodie offers me a look of sympathy. I want this to be over. I want it all to be over. I turn in the opposite direction, my feet carrying me along the side of the road. As I walk my breathing disappears, and I hit my own chest, hard, just to hear it beat again. The abhorrent absence of it petrifies me.

I have to run so I can feel my heartbeat in my head.

I run until I reach a footbridge that passes over a major road, clouded with passing traffic. It's loud and ugly but I appreciate it. I'm out of breath and shaking, but I'm alive, I'm alive, and my phone is ringing like the ringing in my head.

I gaze down my at phone,
and I swear I see my managers name fill the screen. "Shawn," His soft voice fills the air around me, and I cling to it in my head as it floats through the cold wind. He's here.

I can't reply. I don't know how to reply.

"Why are you crying?" He asks cautiously, his tone layered with concern.

Why am I crying? Andrew, you're the reason I'm crying. When I don't say anything he sighs and hums. "Where did it go wrong, Shawn?"

"You're here," I manage, but my tongue relapses on the words and I choke before a stream of tears escapes my eyes.

"Shawn," He swallows behind the phone, "I need you to breathe for me."

"How am I meant to breathe when you're gone?" I whimper, "when everything we built together is just gone?"

I climb the edge of the support frame of the bridge, allowing my shivering body to rest against the concrete pillar. "Andy," I whisper, folding my knees to my chest as I slide down the concrete, "I don't know what to do anymore."

The traffic is so loud that my own words drown against the currents of car engines. My whole body aches. "I want it to end," I whisper. "I'm lying to Hannah about everything because I don't want her to see me weak, and I hate it, Gerty, I hate it."

"You need to breathe for me," He repeats. His voice is distant, and I have to claw at my shoes to hold his voice in my head.

"I just left her there," I say, and this time as I exhale tears drip from my eyes. "I left her in there with the kids, and she was so goddamn happy, and I don't want to ruin that. I never want to ruin that."

"Please stay," I plead loudly into my empty phone, my eyes searching the length of dark solid concrete that runs down the side of the bridge before splashing into lights of reds and yellow on the road.

"Andy?" I gasp, my mind searching frantically for the frequencies of his voice. His voice doesn't come.

I breathe out and fold my knees closer to my chest. From here, through eyes hazed by tears I can see the CN tower. I close my eyes and more tears fall, constant, heavy, tears. A warm hand touches my shoulder, and I tighten my grip on my legs, my knuckles turning white in desperation. "Gerty?" I choke through tears, my eyes squeezed shut.

"Not Andy, gorgeous, just Hannah,"

I blink, and a tear falls from my matted eyelashes as my eyes meet hers, and she watches my face. Her face softens and she pulls me closer to her; silently allowing me to cry into her shoulder. She doesn't say anything, she just holds me tight.

After a while she stands and gently moves me from the edge of the bridge, where she calls her brother and asks him if he can take our kids home. She holds my hand as she speaks, her fingers locking securely with mine; and it stays like that as we walk slowly to the taxi rank, and drive home. It stays like that as she looks out the window, not meeting my eye until we reach our front door, where she wraps her arms around me so tight I know she's never letting go.

She leads me upstairs, where she kicks off her heels and slips into bed without a word. As I do the same she pulls me closer and brings my hand to her heart, which beats abnormally fast. She looks up at me, and her fingers wrap firmly around my own. She's not letting go. This is important. She won't let me let go.

HANNAH

He sipped at orange juice, running his hand through his freshly washed hair as he gazed at Karen, who sat opposite him munching on a piece of toast. Karen refused to tear her eyes from her father, and despite being only four years old, I wondered if she could sense his sadness.

Carefully, he placed the empty glass on the table in front of him, and his eyes fell back to mine. "It wasn't what it looked like," He began, his voice like liquid chocolate after hours of nothing but echoes and silence.

"Then what was it like?" I asked, breathing out. In my mind the memory of his suit in the distance seemed to hammer at my head, and the way my feet fell weak underneath me as I ran and ran only to see him sitting there, so small and fragile on the edge of a bridge. The conclusion that my brain so instantly jumped to made me sick. It still does.

"I don't know," He shook his head and shrugged, "I don't really know anymore."

"Shawn," I said quietly, "I need you to talk to me. You have to be able to talk to me."

From across the table Kar gave him a small smile, and I watched as his face softened ever so slightly. "Gerty died, Hannah." He said slowly, his eyes still on our daughter, "He died yesterday before your premier and I didn't tell you because for so long you've been so happy, and I've been too scared to damage that." His eyes tore to the empty glass on the table, and he covered his mouth with his sweater, "I've been too scared to tell you my career's over."

"Look at me," I whispered, reaching for his hand over the table, "Shawn, honey, it's going to be okay." His eyes finally landed on me, where he drew in the warmth from around us and let out a smooth breath. He offered me a small smile as my hand tightened around his.

"I should have told you," He swallowed, hard.

I nodded, because it was true. But he knew it, I knew it, and he didn't need to be reminded. He needed to be happy. "I'm so incredibly sorry about Andrew," I started softly, "and I know it's hard, and I know things regarding music are arduous, but Shawn, if anyone can get through this, then believe in me when I say it's you."

"Thank you, love." His lips stretched bleakly.

"You need to take a break," I told him, empathy raining my voice, "Can you do that?"

I watched as he nodded slowly, standing from his seat to take Karen's plate. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, jumping into his arms before gleamed up at his face, where his eyes alleviated. He smiled, boldly and brightly at her, before returning his gaze to me. "I can," He confirmed.

"Mum?" Kar asked, her eyes widening as her fluffy slippers fell back to the floorboards.

I hummed at her, "Yes, love?"

"Does that mean Dad can come to my art show?"

Shawn, who stood in the kitchen, whipped his head around quickly, his eyes widening at me happily. "Yes," He said, shaking his head in disbelief, "Yes, Kar, of-course. I'll be there."