It wasn't the first time you stepped out of a hotel room and you were greeted with Shawn's fans. It surely wouldn't be the last. It usually went over smoothly with you simply waving at them, saying a few hello's and sorry's because Shawn wasn't with you at that time. Usually Ava, your bodyguard, escorted you past the handful of fans and got you to a waiting car. Usually, it was a pleasant experience despite the occasional jealous name calling that you had become immune to. Usually.
Today was not a "usual" day. No, today you were in Rio. Just landed over night and Shawn was still sleeping off the plane ride. You had slept during the flight so you were ready to go out and do some shopping. That was until you looked down off the balcony of your sixth floor suite and saw the crowd of people around the front of the hotel. There was forty people at least, just standing around. It was 6am. You groan.
"Come back to bed baby," Shawn grumbles from the bed behind you. You turn to look at him and he's on his stomach, face turned toward the balcony doors where you're standing. His arm is hanging off the bed and he's got the sheets around his ankles, nothing but boxers on.
"But I'm not tired," you protest, looking down at the crowd and back to him.
Shawn turns his face into the pillow and rubs his nose against it to itch it before laying it back down and poking his lip out, silently begging you to come back to bed. How could you deny that? Shopping would have to wait. You close the balcony doors and pull the curtains closed, drastically dimming the light in the room. Shawn smiles a sleepy, smug smile. He knows he's too convincing for your to resist.
A few hours pass and the crowd only seems to get bigger outside the hotel but you can't stay trapped inside for the entire stay. Shawn decides he's tired of the crowd not listening, not backing away when Jake goes out and tells them to leave. He grabs his phone and his wallet and says, "Let's go babe, I'm not going to waste my first trip to Brazil in a stuffy hotel room."
The two of you meet up with Jake and Ava at the end of the hall. They are talking about how we should beef up security if we were going to stay at this hotel for the rest of our time in Brazil. Shawn agrees, telling Jake to check into local agencies for support.
The scene at the front doors was like a zombie movie where the hoard of zombies are waiting, milling about, ready to attack their next meal. The hotel has set up some metal barriers along the walkway out to the street so guests can get to their valet or cabs safely, but plenty of people are ignoring them and standing on the wrong side and in front of the valet drive through. You feel bad, guilty, that the other hotel guests have to deal with these random people just because your boyfriend was booked at this hotel. "Shawn...we're going to have to leave a hefty tip for these poor people having to put up with this."
Shawn squeezes your hand, bringing it to his lips as he says, "I've got it covered. I've offered to comp the security gate rental, the extra security the hotel has hired for guests coming and going and I'll comp any guest who complains for good measure." He truly was the sweetest guy.
Jake walks in front of you while Ava follows up the rear, two large men whose names escape you, join in as you reach the doors, flanking your sides. Shawn gives your hand a squeeze and the two of you step out into the covered entrance.
Immediately you're deafened with screaming, yelling and crying. This is the most fans you had ever seen in once place. It's very overwhelming. Jake says something into his walkie talkie, you think you hear something along the lines of "Where is the car?"
Fans are reaching over the barriers, grabby hands coming from every direction. You stay plastered to Shawn's back, your hand in his as he leads you forward with your entourage surrounding you. The metal barriers shift, the scraping sound of aluminium on concrete is loud even over the noise. The two of you don't make it but ten feet out the doors before all hell breaks lose.
The barricades come down, falling forward with the weight of dozens of people pressing to get a better look. Several people fall down with them, others stepping over them as the crowd closed in the three feet of space between you and them. Your heart beats wildly, hand sweaty in Shawn's. Your group has stopped moving, Ava is yelling to Jake. Jake is yelling back. You're sandwiched against Shawn, Ava's back to yours. The side flank guard have their arms out to block anyone trying to get too close.
Jake says that you have to move, that the car couldn't get into the valet because of the crowd and it was parked just outside of the drive through. Slowly, your group moves foot by foot closer to the roadway. The crowd seems to be getting bigger.
You get tripped by Ava's boot as she steps forward against your back. This causes a small break in your security ring as the left guard pushes a couple of people back. Ava catches herself, having stumbled as well. Suddenly you were surrounded with people pushing and shoving at you. Shawn's hand slips from yours and you're stuck in a throng of people.
Jake looks back, and Shawn does too. There's panic in Shawn's eyes as you get pushed and shoved back. Ava is only a foot or two from you, but there's people constantly in front of her. She's trying desperately to get to you.
Using all your strength, you start pushing back. Yelling for Shawn, for Jake, for Ava. For anyone. There's at least a dozen people saying your name, asking you questions, pawing at you for a picture. You can see Shawn, he's coming for you with Jake and the two guards holding off fans to the best of their ability.
A guy, a paparazzi most likely, is to your left. He's asking you questions over and over, pushing his phone in your face. You shout at him to go away, to leave you alone. But he doesn't. He grabs your arm, pulling you back, making you lose your balance and accidentally elbow a teenage girl. You apologize profusely, voice lost in the crowd. The guy grabs for you again, this time catching your braid and pulling hard.
You scream, pain searing from your scalp. Shawn is right there, but he isn't looking at you, not yet. No, his arm swings up over your head and you hear a dull thump and a crack behind you. He's just punched the guy who was grabbing you. You turn for just a moment and see blood gush from the guy's very broken nose. Shawn has his arms around you, he's hot and sweaty and you don't care because he's finally with you. Ava gets through the crowd at that moment and starts very forcefully pushing people aside. You meet up with Jake and the other two guards and make it to the car with much effort.
In the car you can't do anything but stare ahead, finally in a semi quiet place without seven billion hands touching you, you just want to be quiet . Shawn leans close, turning your head gently to look at him. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?" his eyes are searching your face for any semblance of pain.
Your hair's a mess, braid absolutely ruined. Your clothes are all pulled, stretched and you are pretty sure your shirt might be ripped at the bottom. There's a dull ache in your arm where someone elbowed you. "I'll be alright."
"God this kind of shit pisses me off!" Shawn huffs, hand falling from your face. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "Since when is mobbing a person and their loved ones acceptable? Like, because I'm famous I lose all rights to privacy as a human being. It's fucking disgusting." He's angry and rightfully so. It wasn't very often that he got like this, only a few other times had you seen this side of him. Shawn was just so calm, so collected usually.
You look him over, his shirt is stretched out from being pulled at. His arms are covered in red marks from people's hands tugging at him, begging him for attention. Then there was his hand. A tiny bit of blood smeared across his knuckle, skin red like a sunburn. He really hit that guy hard.
"You shouldn't have hit that guy, Shawn. That's going to be a mess to clean up." It really would be a mess. There was no doubt videos circulating as you speak. What a PR nightmare. "I was okay, you could have just pulled me away and let that guy be. You didn't have to get so-"
"He deserved it." Shawn's voice is low, tone warning. There was no arguing with him about it. Not right now. He was too heated.
After a few minutes Shawn grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, barely audible over the radio playing from the front of the car. "I'm sorry I got so angry. You know I'd never hurt you, right."
Here he was thinking your silence meant you were scared of him. It didn't. You were never scared of Shawn. "I know, Shawn. I'm not angry you hit him, and I'm not scared of you. The guy was a dick."
He leans over and kisses your head. "I love you, babe."
You smile big and you peck his cheek as he moves away, "I love you too. Just don't go creating any more press disasters at my expense."
He smirks, "No promises."
Credit: softboyshawn.tumblr.com