Shawn Mendes Imagines (Editing + Open Requests)

♬1.0 - After The Call

Imagine Shawn chasing you out after getting bad news

Shawn's P.O.V

"So tell me, is my relationship ruined?" Matthew asked.

"Probably," Nash said with a grin.

"I don't know," I added, flipping through my law textbook. "It sounds like she just needs to know you still care. If you actually talk to her, you'll probably be fine."

"Shawn's answer sounds way too mature for a guy our age," Nash muttered.

"They usually do," Matthew said. "For someone who gives great advice, he still hasn't told his best friend he's in love with her."

"Shut up," I warned.

"Yeah, man," Nash said. "Weren't you going to tell her last week?"

"I was," I admitted. "But her grandpa got sick, and it's not the right time. She doesn't need that pressure. Right now, she just needs me to be there as her friend."

Nash glanced across the room. "Yeah, she doesn't really look like herself."

I followed his eyes. June sat near the window, her short blonde hair tucked into a ball cap, her dark jeans ripped at the knees, and—wait. That was her favorite sleeping shirt.

"I'm not trying to be an asshole," Matthew whispered, "but I thought she and her grandpa weren't that close?"

"He lives out of town," I said quietly. "They didn't see each other much. But it's still her grandpa—and she's watching her dad fall apart over it."

"And if you think about it," Nash murmured, "the next thing to go will be her dad."

"Jesus," Matthew muttered.

"Boys, please stay on track," Mr. Blue said from the front of the room.

But June wasn't on track. Her eyes were glassy, glued to her phone every couple of minutes. She'd read one line from the textbook, then drift off again.

"Want to go to that new restaurant tonight?" Matthew asked.

"I work," Nash said.

"You, Shawn?"

"I should probably go to June's later. Help her with homework."

Matthew smirked. "She's in class right now, you know."

"Yeah, physically," I said. "But not mentally. I doubt she's heard a word Mr. Blue's said."

"What has he said?" Matthew asked.

Nash groaned and dropped his head into his book.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw June's phone light up again. A new message.

She looked down. Her shoulders stiffened. And then, suddenly, she stood up.

A few people noticed. Everyone noticed when she ran out of the classroom.

"Oh no," Nash whispered.

Before I could even think, I was already on my feet, following her out into the hallway.

She stood there in the middle of the corridor, phone clutched in her trembling hands. Her face was white, her eyes red and wet. And I knew.

He didn't make it.

I slowed my steps, not wanting to startle her.

"June?"

She looked up, barely managing a word. "He... he..."

"I know," I said softly. "I'm so sorry."

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her. Her whole body melted against me, shaking as the sobs came. Her tears soaked through my shirt; her hands clutched at my hoodie like she needed something solid to hold on to.

She didn't say anything, didn't have to. She just cried—right there in the hallway, right in my arms.

I felt her legs start to give out, her weight leaning heavier against me. If I let go, she'd fall.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered. The words felt empty, the same ones everyone says when they don't know what else to. But I needed to say something—anything.

She didn't respond.

"Do you want to go home? I can drive you," I asked quietly.

She nodded into my chest.

My heart pounded, like it was trying to hold her closer, to somehow make things better.

"Alright," I whispered, pressing a hand to her back. "Let's get you home."

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So I wrote this at work. So I am sorry if it's shitty 😂😂❤️