night ghost || Shawn mendes
a/n: something to break your heart this fine Monday night.
Thinks he’s seen a ghost but it’s just her again; the shadow of what used to be wafting through his hallway.
For a second his brain tells him to get out of bed and go and check. Go and see if she’s actually there, dressed in one of the t-shirts she stole from him and nothing else, but the duvet acts as handcuffs - locking him to the mattress they once shared.
There were no hard feelings in their break up (or at least, that’s what she thinks) but Shawn’s spent too many sleepless nights thinking about her for her to be fully blameless.
Shawn still remembers when they’d dance through grocery store aisles, remembers how he’d spin her, watching as her hair cascaded around her in a veil like halo.
Shawn remembers having picnics with her and throwing strawberries into her mouth, purposely missing so he could see the way her nose would scrunch together and hear her playful giggle.
Fucking remembers her shoe size, ring size, phone number, the way she dots her I’s and crosses her T’s or the way she smells like peaches when it rains because the water makes her shampoo scent bleed into the air.
He rolls onto his back and rips his eyes away from the hallway that holds her memory, and his eyes find his white ceiling.
Remembers the way she’d curl up into him at 2 in the morning, mumbling about it being too cold and he remembers the way he’d snuggle her shivering body into his heated frame.
He thinks - fleetingly - that the reason she was cold at night was because his dreams about her were stealing her warmth. Maybe that’s why she’s gone, Shawn whispers to himself, like a cup of tea cooling.
He rolls onto his side and lets his eyes find her pillow. Was his pillow once, but as soon as she rested her head on it he knew it would forever be hers. Claimed it like a lion stating her territory - like his heart. Clawed at it with her god damn tears and made it bleed the sound of her laugh - a melody that’ll never leave his brain, no matter how hard he tries.
He feels himself reach over, and before he knows it he’s grabbing at the pillow, pulling the white casing into his bare chest. Doesn’t bring him comfort like it used to, but that’s ok, because he hears her in the hallway again.
He turns, smiling when he sees her frame leaning against the door way. He knows she’s not really there, and she looks a little different - eyes aren’t as bright.
But she smiles like her, smells like her, sounds like her when she says “Shawn, what’re you doing up?”
“Thinking about you again, aren’t I?” Goes Shawn’s reply. Forever thinking about her and for a second it’s all real, she’s back, in his arms as she snuggles her head into his chest. But it’s not the same - she’s warm this time.