Shawn Mendes Imagines

His tour manager shouts at him (my story p4)

8am 28 August 2017 - the morning after the VMAs

Shawn's POV

I was awoken by a large knocking on my hotel door. We stayed in a room with a double bed and a single, just because I wanted to cuddle up with my mum.

It was Jeff. My awful tour manager.

"What was that?" He half shouts. I furrow my brows at him. "That performance. The cracks, the key was off, you dodged the high notes."

"I'm sorry, I just...anxiety and things..." I almost cry but try to remain strong.

"You're a singer. Anxiety is no excuse." With that he leaves. I go back into my hotel room and Malia comes out of the bathroom.

"What's up?" We sit down on the single bed and she has her arm around me.

"Jeff told me off for the performance and..."

"Ignore him Shawn. You did your absolute best and there is nothing more you could have done. You're tired and stressed and anxious." My chest begins to tighten.

"I...but..." I can't get my words out.

"Shawn" my mum wakes up and pulls my panicking body into her arms and holds my head against her chest. "I'm taking you back to Pickering for a few weeks. We need to sort your mental health out lovey. I'm worried about you."

"Mum I'm fine." I half sob half say.

"No you're not sweetie. You've had a tough time and need some therapy to help you."

"I agree." Malia pats my knee and gets me some water.

"Let's get you to sleep." I put my head in my mother's lap and she strokes my hair and I fall asleep.