Shawn Mendes Imagines

71 - Just A Ghost AU

I just stared at him as he slept. I'm envious at the fact that he could rest while I'm forced to stay awake no matter what happens. Ever since he moved to this house, it felt as if I just had to watch him. There are many others like me here, but I'm the only one not looking for a scare.

He shifted, making me snap back to reality. The moonlight casted a bluish glow on his face, his features looks even more angelic. God, if I were only alive. I ran my hand through his fluffy brown hair, my fingers feeling the soft strands in between them. I may not be breathing but at least I could still feel.

His eyes slowly opened and I forced myself to disappear. He couldn't see me. At least, not yet. I don't want him to know that I've been watching him sleep like a crazy stalker. He look around the room before burying himself back into the pillows, soft snores coming from his parted lips. I let out a breath of relief and sat back down on the recliner at the corner of the room.

The next day, I just simply observed him from the chair near the back door. He sleepily ran a hand through his messy ball of fluff also known as his hair as he into the kitchen. He opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a bag of what seemed like chocolate muffins. I miss being alive now. I miss the taste of chocolate. He then made a cup of coffee then sat by the breakfast bar, knocking down a spare plate from somewhere near his right in the process.

"Jeez, be careful would you?" I muttered.

"Who said that?!" He exclaimed as he looked up in shock from cleaning up the mess he made.

Shit. He heard me. His eyes travelled around the room, trying to find where I was. I sighed and just showed myself.

"Over here, bud." I said, smirking at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Who are you?! What are you doing here?! How did you get in?!" He asked, his eyes growing bigger as he pointed a shard of broken glass at me as if it were his only weapon.

"Whoa, easy with the broken plate. You might cut yourself. And you left the back door open. Just wanted to meet whoever was staying in this house. I used to live here, you know."

"Who are you?"

"You asked that already. The name's y/n. Y/n y/l/n. Nice to meet you random stranger who bought my childhood home."

"I'm Shawn. Shawn Mendes." He said, placing the glass on the counter in front of him and walking over to me with his hand stretched out.

I took his hand and shook it, giving him a small smile which he returned. If I still had a heart that hasn't rotten over time, it would've skipped a beat.

"I was just about to eat breakfast. Want a muffin?" He asked, leading me to his table.

"No, thank you. I already ate." I replied kindly. More like I'm incapable of eating. My stomach has decomposed three years ago.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Unless you want to see it come back out once I eat it.

"You said you used to live here? How long has it been since you've moved out?"

"Around three years ago. My parents decided to move right across the street since they were tired of staying in the same place for the past seventeen years."

"Oh. How old are you?"

"Seventeen. You?"

"Nineteen."

The entire day, we just sat there and talked. Talked about each other's lives– mine being my past, obviously– hobbies, and any random thing we could think of. This went on for weeks, months even. I would appear to him just to hang out without him knowing that I couldn't leave this house. My soul is still trapped here.