Shawn Mendes Imagines (Editing + Open Requests)

♬2.7 - Turbulence - Part Four

The 4th part to Turbulence.
Imagine waking up in the hospital.

Maybe things turn out a certain way for a reason.
Maybe the things that happen to us are signs.
Maybe this was a sign.

I remember his eyes — the way they held me there.
I remember his voice — the way he whispered for me to stay awake.

Even as the world went dark, even as pain tore through my body,
I felt safe.
Because he was there.
Because it was Shawn.

The light was too bright when I opened my eyes again — harsh, sterile.
Not sunlight.
Not the sky.
Hospital lights.

"Hello, miss. You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

"I... I was on an island."
My voice cracked. "Where is Shawn?"

The nurse blinked, slow and careful.
"Let's start simple. Do you know your name?"

"My name... where is Shawn?"

"Who is Shawn?"

"He's—" I swallowed, voice splintering. "He's famous. Shawn Mendes."

Recognition flickered in her eyes.

"Yes. I know Shawn Mendes. You were in the plane crash together."

"I was looking for him," I whispered. "He was with me. He held me. He— he found me."

"I'll look for him, honey. I promise. But I need your full name."

"Marklyn Tello," I whispered. "But call me Marky."

She nodded, squeezed my hand, and left.

Time blurred.
I stared at the bandages on my leg but didn't feel them.
I waited.
I waited for the only answer that mattered.

When the nurse returned, she wasn't alone.
My parents walked in behind her.

They cried.
They clung to me.
Their words were muffled — like hearing through water.
I sat still.
Numb.

"Where is Shawn?" I asked.

Their faces broke.

My mother pressed her lips together.
My father looked away.
The room went so unbearably quiet.

"Honey..." my mother whispered.
"He didn't survive."

My chest cracked open.

"No," I breathed. "No. I saw him. He was with me. He— he held me. He told me to stay awake. He told me—"

"You lost a lot of blood," my father said softly, eyes red.
"You were hallucinating."

"No!"
My voice tore out of me.
"I heard him. I felt him. He said we survive this. He said—"

But they were still shaking their heads.

The reality didn't hit like a wave.
It hit like silence.
Like a heartbeat stopping.
Like nothing.

They talked about my leg next.
How there was infection.
How they might have to amputate.
How today I lost Shawn and tomorrow I would lose part of myself.

I don't remember falling asleep.
I don't remember the night.

But I remember the light.

Not the hospital lights.
Not the burning plane fire.
Light — warm, soft, gold.

There were flowers.
Clouds.
A breeze that didn't hurt.

And then—

Shawn.

Standing in the doorway.
Smiling like he always did when he knew I needed him.

He walked toward me, slow, familiar, sure.

I didn't need to ask where we were.
I didn't need to look down at my leg.
I didn't need to question if I was dreaming.

I knew.

I was dying.

And he was here — waiting for me.

He reached out his hand.

"Hey, Marky," he whispered. Soft. Warm. Safe.
"I've got you."

And for the second time in my life,
falling didn't feel like falling.

It felt like going home.

Did you watch Shawn on the late late show?? How have you all been this week?? ❤️❤️