shawn mendes imagines

butterfly

shawn's perspective

sitting down on the bench that me and y/n use to share. the bench i asked her to be mines, the bench we had our first kiss, the bench we would sit on every time we felt the need to get something off our chest. especially when i told her 'i love you' for the first time

now it's not the same anymore. the bench is now breaking apart. it's old and brown, cracks starting to form on it.

i get off, walking towards the woods. normally the place i go to get my mind off of things. to help me relax whenever i feel like giving up- or where i just want to yell out all my anger and sadness i'm holding in.

walking by y/n's grave leaving some yellow sunflower i had picked on the way here. they were her favorite. she would always smell like them. she would love to place them between her ear and temple- knowing she looks beautiful with it.

suddenly a purple and blue butterfly lands on my hand. i don't dare to move, i just let it stay on my hand. seconds go by and it finally goes off flying into the sunset.

3 months later

everyday i walk to my beautiful's girlfriend grave. always sure to bring her favorite flowers with me. now they have started growing, building up- almost like a tower. from how often i bring them

i sit down on the dirt, with a picture of me and her in my hands. she stands in front of me with that loving smile plastered on her gorgeous face.

my arms tightly hugging around her neck. we were so happy and in love. every one noticed it. people and older couples will always go up to us saying the same thing. and that how i knew we were genuinely in love.

i caress the picture with my thumb, letting my own tears fall on the polaroid. oh how much i miss her. loosing someone that means so much too you. is like loosing your whole heart- your whole world.

"i love you" i whisper while pulling the picture of us up to my chest. forever holding the memories of us in my heart.

out of no where- the same butterfly that has been near her grave lands on my hand again. all these months it's the same butterfly. landing on the same exact spot everyday.

i look at it confused, not daring to move a muscle. scared it will fly away. then it flies off my hand landing onto the top of the flowers i leave everyday, then returning back onto my hand.

crawling to one of my tattoos. not just one of them- y/n's favorite. my guitar, with soundwaves. and this city of toronto drawn. the butterfly finally leaves going off to the sunset.

the same way it flies everyday. but then it hits me. sunsets where y/n's favorite things, sunflowers where her favorite, and the guitar tattoo was her favorite. a loud sob leaves my lips.

knowing that the butterfly was y/n.