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114

<<Butterflies>>

"Hey, you", Shawn pulls me into a warm hug, and I bury my face into his pullover. It's smelling fresh washed and there's a scence that I just can identify as Shawn. A good smell.
For a while, we're just standing close to each other, than we bring a bit distance between us. My hands are still laying on Shawn's back, and he's playing with one of my curls. "I missed you."

"We were apart only for a few days."

"It were long days", Shawn says with a smirk. "Nobody telling me to put more cocoa in my capuccino, and there's nobody laying next to me when I wake up."

"If there were someone, than I'd not be here for sure", I say. "But what great qualities I apparently offer to you", I add ironically, grinning.

"Yeah, they are great. But similar important: Your honesty and humour."

"My humour, huh?"

"Exactly. And that little smile of yours. The way your eyes shine when you listen music, when you play the piano."

"Now you're getting cliché." I can't but smile – now brightly.

"What? I just missed you."

"I missed you too." I roll my eyes a bit. – Only a little bit, cause I like the way Shawn's speaking a little too much to cut it off totally. "And now end of the sweet-talk. Let's go inside – it is freaking cold."

"Unless I warm you a little bit longer?"

"Mendes!"

He laughs and takes my hand. It feels so naturally, that for a second I can't concentrate on anything else than this feeling – to be comforted, to feel comfortable, to feel home.
I don't know how Shawn makes this, but he's got the ability to make you feel special.

🦋

We're in his apartment – now in the apartment, where he really lives in, at least all of the times, when he's not touring, in Pickering or in the studio. (Yeah, I know that sounds probably not like much, but as far as I know, he'd spent the last years before starting touring again in Canada.)

After a little room-tour Shawn says: "Well, and now we get to the date-part."

A little irritated, I look around. Shawn didn't change his pullover into something fancy – something I register a bit relieved. I'm not ready to sit in a prizy restaurant, acting like I am used to eat with a strange fork some strange kind of raw fish with rice or something like that. My own outfit – happy-socks with little Christmas-trees and golden bells combined with a woolen black skirt and a woolen red sweatshirt – is looking casual - fine, but not too fine. I like it.

"I like your outfit", Shawn says suddenly, pulling me again closer to him.
This time, exceptionally, I didn't speak out loud my thoughts, so it's kinda crazy, he's saying this right now.

I look up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He touches featherlight my cheek and leaves a prickling trace on my skin. "And I really like you, Mandy."

"I like you too, Mendes."

He grins sheepishly. "I hope you will like my surprise, too."

"I'm very excited, you sounded very mysterious."

His eyes twinkle. "That was the sense. I wanted to be one time the mysterious guy."

"You mean, because you're usually an open book?", I joke. Suddenly, I regret to have said this. – His face darkens a bit.
Fuck, Mandy, what is up with you?!
"Shawn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I know that it's hard to deal with the fact that all of the people all around the world think that they know everything about you."

"It's alright. I'm used to this since I was sixteen. You'd only tell the truth."

"Yeah, maybe – but it sucks even though, doesn't it?"

"It does." Shawn nods.

"So, I'm sorry for reminding you of that. But."

"But?"

"Well, but you know, what they don't know?" I try to lighten up the situation, to bring back that sparkle into his eyes.
He looks at me with a little grin in the corner of his mouth. "What? What don't they know?"

"That I'm right here with you. With the real Shawn."

For a second, a shadow's wandering over his face, and I'm asking myself, if I did say again something wrong. But then, Shawn smiles. "You're right. You're here. You're here with me."

It's like he doesn't understand how much, how desperately I want to be with him - to look him into the eyes, to hear his voice, to hear, what he wants to say, to really hear him.
Or maybe, that's just my own projection – a projection of my own feelings that I see mirrored in his face, in his body-language.

The butterflies in my stomach are dancing.

"We're here, nothing else matters", I say. And then I step on my toes to reach his mouth. He shudders when I kiss the corners of his mouth, his cheek, his chin, and then – finally – our lips find each others. And nothing else matters than this moment.

🦋 🦋 🦋

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***

🗒️🌸🎶

Mandy's songbook

We're laying under the stars

Heart to heart

Life's moving fast

But this here is just the start

🌸
🎶