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You can tell he's down.

Usually after shows, Shawn has this amazing high where he's the most hyped up, loveable, chatty version of himself. Practically bouncing off the walls and jittering with energy.

Not today.

You had a feeling this show was going to hurt him.

It's mid way through tour and Shawn has been waking you in the night, coughing and complaining of a sore throat.

You'd suspected it was flu and you weren't surprised when the doctor confirmed it. They recommended 2 weeks of rest and recovery and one week of voice rest.

Yeah, that had lasted one whole day. If that.

Shawn and voice rest aren't a thing that go together in a sentence. Shawn's the most talkative, bossy, chatty person you've ever met. Always running his mouth, mostly in a good way.

After a day of sending you messages of what he wanted, he gave up and talked, if only a little for the second day. Mainly just to tell you how he felt or what food he wanted or how much he loves you. By day 4, he was back to belting out Diana Ross songs in the shower. So much for vocal rest.

But he paid the price for it tonight. His voice cracked a lot of times and you could tell he was just so tired and unwell. His cheeks were very flushed, not in a healthy way. He was sweating a lot, drinking tons of water and looking, frankly, like shit.

But being the fighter he is, and a stubborn one at best, Shawn pushed through the set, asking the crowd to help him through the songs and apologising 100 times for his voice failing him.

You'd felt quite tearful at one point as he'd try to reach his note change in Stitches after the bridge and his voice just failed him. Luckily the crowd brought him through but you could tell it hurt him.

Shawn walks down the steps from the stage, shoulders slumped, face flushed. Everyone's telling him not to worry, that he did great, the crowd loved him. But you can tell he's not listening.

Shawn takes failure hard. Harder than anyone else you've met. Its what makes you admire him so much, his resilience and his fight.

He looks up from the floor and sees you, his mouth pulls up slightly in a sad smile and you open your arms wide for him.

He stoops down, snuggling perfectly into your arms. The back of his shirt is damp but you don't care as you rub soothing circles onto his back.

You can feel him sigh and you bring your hand up to his curls, softly playing with them, helping him relax.

He sighs again and you can feel your shoulder getting damp. His tears soaking through your shirt. You squeeze him even tighter, as if trying to push all the negative thoughts away. He did great, even if he can't see that. You'll always be proud of him.

Pulling him back, you take his jaw in your hand and press your lips his hot cheek. It tastes salty from his tears.

"Let's get you home, baby."

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