You & Shawn are at a red carpet event & the whole night he's getting moved around from interview to interview & constantly getting asked to pose for pictures & the whole night he seems kinda down but u don't say anything until u guys get home. & when u do ask he tells u it's hard getting treated like a piece of property instead of a human being. & u can tell it was from nobody asking how he was doing it was all about the music. I'm sorry if this is a weird request or hard to understand!
I’m sorry this is quite long, I got carried away - and I hope this is what you meant!
Sparks of camera flashes, the loud roar of chit-chat, screaming fans and arrogant press; the glamorous awards show was nothing but overwhelming. You stood back, allowing Shawn to do him; for everyone to see. You were beyond proud of him, and knew that it meant everything to him to just be nominated for some of the awards. You watched as he casually greeted fellow artists as if they were anyone, people you would be anxious around. Both of you had walk side by side for 10 seconds before someone grabbed Shawn’s hand, causing his other hand to let yours go, and dragging him to his first interview. With every passing moment, he would be moved down to another interviewer, shoved in front of another daunting lens. You noticed his smile become smaller and shorter each time, which was not like him at all. If anything, he was known for one of the biggest and brightest smiles. The concern grew when his answers became shorter too, and he’d end up looking down or around him - anywhere that wouldn’t mean he was focused on what was happening.
Finally, you were re-united and you asked him if he was alright as you hurried to your table - with him replying with a nod and a kiss on your forehead. Compared to how he usually was with these sort of occasions, he was silent. He would clap twice whenever someone was called for an award, and then fiddle with his fingers or place with his glass on the table - as if he wanted to be somewhere else. Unfortunately he didn’t win any of the categories, and to your surprise he didn’t seem to mind. He grabbed your hand and hurried out of there as soon as it was over, avoiding lengthy goodbyes. The drive to the hotel was quiet, but his hand remained clasped over yours.
When you finally reached the hotel room, he let out a huge sigh - as if he had been holding his breath the whole night. You followed him over to the bed and watched him tug on his tie, and finally chucking it to the floor. “It’s like taking off a collar,” he chuckled. You looked at him with furrowed brows. “You wouldn’t get it,” he sighed, shaking his head - about to stand up from the bed. You pressed your hand against his chest and pushed him back down, before sitting at his side. “Tell me,” you said softly as you began to rub your hand down his back. He ruffled his hands through his hair, and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt. “I don’t feel like this very often, you know that I am very grateful to be doing what I am - and wouldn’t exchange it for anything” he said, looking at you for reassurance. You nodded, worried about where he was going. “But it’s at things like this; I know you were with me the whole night but to me it didn’t feel like that. I didn’t feel like I could be myself, or I could be with you like how we usually are together.” He puffed his cheeks and let them deflate before he continued. You brushed the bundle of curls that had parted from his combed back hair. “Every single interview is the exact same, I end up saying the same crap over and over again. It’s like, I’m promoting a product - or I’m promoting myself as a product. I have to be Shawn Mendes, I have to be the guy everyone sees me being. I don’t know how to explain it,” he sighed, shaking his head.
You continued to rub your hand over his back, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. His head rested against yours as he spoke again, “It’s like, no one ever asks how I am? No one has ever asked, “How are you today Shawn?” He paused, and you watched as he twiddled his thumbs in his lap. “It’s always got to be about the music, or some random tweet I didn’t think twice about. Or some photo that blew up over social media. No one, ever asks about how I’m doing. The real me, not the public figure.” Your spare hand wrapped around his bicep, gripping it slightly. It was awful to hear him speak like this, to know that he felt like this. You had always assumed he put on a brave face and just embraced it, knowing it was something he had to do and he didn’t let it bother him. You felt guilty for assuming.
“The first time I felt like this, was shortly after my birthday. They would ask if I had wild nights with huge names, and when I’d say no; the conversation would end there. No one cared about what I actually did for my birthday, they were just squeezing me to see if I would spill any juicy gossip.”
You swallowed the small lump in your throat, “I’m sorry Shawn.” He placed his hand over yours and let out a quiet laugh, “What do you have to be sorry for?” You sat up and looked him in the eye, “I should’ve known something was up. I just thought you were so used to this stuff and that it didn’t bother you like this.” He smiled and placed a hand on the side of your face, “I am used to it, I have to be - it’s part of the package. It just gets a little too much sometimes. But don’t feel sorry, you have done nothing wrong.” You smiled, closing your eyes as you felt a rush of relief. “Do you know what kept me going, what made me push through that whole thing?” he asked. You shook your head, biting at the inside of your cheek. “You. Knowing that once it was over, we would be coming back here; just us two in our own world. Because you are one of the very few people I can be completely myself around.”