Voicemail

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"Hey," he grips the phone tightly in his hand before letting a shaky breath pass his lips, "it's shawn."

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me, and honestly," he let out a soft dry laugh, "I can't blame you."

"I shouldn't of called you, this was a mistake." Shawn ran his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth on the hardwood floor.

"But I need to tell you this," he took a deep breath as he closed his eyes tightly.

"I miss you. I have ever since you walked out the door that awful night. I miss holding you, kissing you, I miss your corny jokes, and your laugh. Your laugh was the best," shawn swallowed the lump growing in his throat before continuing.

"I know you probably won't call me back, but I feel like I needed to get this off my chest."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I know I screwed up, and I know that I'll never be able to call you mine again, but just know," there was a short silence where you could hear him take a short breath, "I still love you."


She pulled her knees to her chest as she listened to his voicemail. By the end of it, she was sobbing.

She missed him so much, but she knew she shouldn't go back to him.

They were toxic for each other, but yet they needed each other.

But like Shawn said, he screwed up and he'll never call her his again.

Shawn Mendes Imagines Where stories live. Discover now