Shawn Mendes Imagines

all on the money

This death never seemed to pass me. The funeral was tomorrow and nobody has called into Shawns home. I wanted to stay there so I lounged around until it was time for me to head back home myself. His workers vanished but the one person who vanished that was the most important in my case was Y/N.

I rushed to the telephone and dialed there number. There maid answered it with an annoyed tone.

"Hello, yes is Y/N there?" I asked in a rushed tone.

"N-No sir there out on a trip" she hesitated.

"Can you let them know the funeral is tomorrow" I sighed pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I'm sorry sir there not taking any messages at this time- thank you" she said and soon hung up like she was actually in a rush to get rid of me.

I shook my head and walked towards Shawns closet where they were scattered all over the floor like before when he was showering Y/N with them. It was quite a scene.

"Can't change the past. Why of course you can"

His words ringing in my ear. It was heartbreaking to know that such a hateful man who's been working with Mendes shot him with his own gun. Fucking bullshit.

I felt another tear roll down my cheek as I laid on Shawns empty bed falling fast asleep, feeling empty, just like his home.

---

The funeral was today and of course I asked everyone he knew to come. His parents, his friends, the Buchanans. I demanded it actually. But I as I stood at that black coffin looking down at my best friend wearing a white tux with his big pinky ring shining I knew I was the only one who actually cared for this man. He wasn't selfish just naive to the real world around him. The bright flashing cameras surrounded him making me sick.

"Get out of here all of you!" I shouted shooing and pushing them out of his home.

I was disgusted with everyone. He was the single humble man in the world who meant a whole lot to me in the shortest amount of time changed my life in a way no one could, forever.

I walked outside feeling the cold air brush up my skin as I sighed and looked out beyond the dock where a green light beamed in the distance. It was at the Buchanans dock and I now know why he stood there amazed by that light to know the love his life was just beyond the bay.

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.