Shawn Mendes Imagines

the magnificent mendes

He was my best friend. Always has been. But he has this problem. This problem that needs to be taken care of. He never really wanted to be this way but he did and it's unfair, for the both of us. Even though he's younger than me I've always taken care of him. It seems that he needs some kind of mental help although he's not crazy, but he needs it. He throws these parties every weekend.

Imagine, 1922 the roaring 20s, the golden age. Parties, drinking, dancing, smoking. Women lined up for whatever they want. We knew what to give them at the time, while we are wasted off our asses. it was unfortunate that we were treated so luxuriously. The world never stopped turning for Mendes. But I stopped moving when I met my him. My names Ian Warburton and I'm here to tell you about my dear friend Shawn Mendes.

He was smart, not book smart, but street smart. He knew how to get around without getting caught and I always thought that was something really extraordinary for a man like Mendes. Sometimes I wish I was like him other times I wish I didn't know him at all. As cliché as it sounds, he changed my life in a way no one could.

"Warburton how are you old sport?" Mendes asked slapping my back with the big ring coming in contact with my showing skin as we lounged around by his pool.

"oh fine, getting along" I chuckled nervously.

He nodded and smiled at me holding his hands together playing with that big ring sitting on his pinky.

"Are you coming to my party tonight?" He asked.

"Of course, don't I always?"

He smirked and nodded walking back towards his shiny brand new black Rolls Royce.

"Good god man, stop buying so many cars!" I said cheerily.

"I can't help it old sport! It keeps me going!" He replied heartily putting on his sunglasses and sliding into the car. "I'll have Richard come by to pick you up?"

"Ah no that's alright! I'll walk! It's just down the bay!"

He smiled and nodded once more as he drove away without a care in the world.

The thing is, he did care, too much. He had this obsession, no, it's not an obsession, but an urge to find this woman he's been looking for since 1902. The girl with the long beautiful hair that dropped to her shoulders and curled up at the tips. The one who always wore her husbands pearls that he ravished her with so often that I couldn't keep count. A girl that so happens to be my cousin that lives across the bay, coincidently, across from Mendes.