Shawn Mendes Imagines (Editing + Open Requests)

♬ 2.8 - Little Do You Know

Imagine based of the Song Little do you Know.

Imagine both of them being awake and not being able to sleep. They are best friends and horrible event has happened that Shawn might have been able to stop.

✦ Jade's P.O.V

I wish he knew how much I was hurting.

He sees the edges of it — the shadows under my eyes, the way I flinch at sudden sounds, the way my breathing changes when the memories hit — but he has no idea how deep the pain goes.
How loud it is at night.
How I haven't slept properly in months.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it.
Every time I breathe in too deep, I feel it.
Every time I'm alone longer than five minutes, I relive it.

And I can't tell him.

Shawn has already done too much for me.
Carrying me out of the places I couldn't walk out of myself.
Calling me every night the first few weeks, even when I pretended I was fine.
Waiting outside my therapy sessions in his car with hot chocolate, even when he said it was "just to get fresh air."

If I keep breaking in front of him, one day it might be too much.
One day he might get tired.
One day he might leave.

And losing him?
No. I couldn't survive that.
So I tell him I need time — even though I need more time than I ever admit out loud.

Because I'm still trapped in there.
Even if the door is unlocked now, my body thinks it's still bolted shut.

⸻

✦ Shawn's P.O.V

She thinks I don't see it.

But I do.

I see it every time she lies awake beside me, trying to breathe quietly so I don't notice.
I see it in the way she tenses when the apartment creaks.
I see it in the way she tries to hold herself together so I don't worry.

She thinks she's hiding it.
She isn't.

I'm lying here awake, my back to her, staring at the wall because I don't know how to help someone who is hurting this deeply.
I don't know how to fix something I can't touch.
I don't know how to protect someone from something that already happened.

But I'm trying.

God, I'm trying.

And the part that kills me?
I should've answered the damn phone.

One call.
One missed call.
That's all it took for everything to go wrong.

She told me later — voice shaking — how she locked herself in the bedroom because he was angry again.
How she wasn't ready, how he didn't like hearing "no."
How he broke down the door.
How she called me one minute before it happened, and I didn't pick up.

She left a voicemail.
Just my name.
Just my name and the sound of her trying not to cry.

And by the time I got there, she was in the hospital.

Three weeks of stitches and bruises and wires.

They said she doesn't remember the worst part, that she wasn't conscious, but she remembers everything else.
Too much of everything else.

I love her.
I've loved her since before I knew what love was.
And I swear I've been trying ever since to stitch her back together, even if all I can do is hold her while she falls apart.

I feel her move behind me — a small shift.
Then another.

I turn over.

Her eyes meet mine in the dark.

"Can't sleep?" I whisper.

She shakes her head. "No."

She moves closer, carefully, slowly, like she's remembering how to trust her own body.
Her arm curls around my torso, her head finding its familiar place on my chest.

I wrap my hand over hers.

We don't sleep.
We don't talk.
We just breathe the same air and let the night pass around us.

And for now...
that's enough.

Thanks for all the support❤️❤️