And I'll Still be a Fool
Requested: “can you write an imagine based on the song just a little bit of your heart by ariana? :) love your writing by the way!”
A/N: So I said a while ago that I enjoy writing imagines based on songs and/or poems and things of that sort. So my next upcoming imagines will probably all be requested songs that you guys sent me! I might do a part 2 for this one but idk. Let me know y'all
I don’t feel the need to know who you’re with
Roses were always your favorite no matter how cliche it was. The petals were soft yet depending on the rose, sometimes they had thorns on the stem. Thorns that could make you bleed the same way love did. You normally hated poetry, and romantic comparisons or things of that sort, but the fact that roses were so beautiful yet sometimes so painful to touch, the same way love was, it was just interesting to you. And somehow someone knew this. Someone knew you liked roses, someone knew you enjoyed the sunset colored ones with the petals you’d rub your thumb against. For the past few months or so someone had been sending you roses every couple weesk. One week it was a huge bouquet of orangey pink petals with a note hidden behind the thorns that you always thought would say something but it never did. Usually just a heart would be drawn on the tiny piece of paper, and occasionally there’d be numbers written on the note, but you never know what it meant. They were long numbers usually, with no spaces in between. You thought this secret admirer of yours was sweet at first and you had kept some of the flowers in vases, but you tended to get tired of it considering they wouldn’t tell you who they were. Your friends had told you it was probably an old friend from high school, and that just irritated you even more. Either way it wouldn’t matter anyway because your heart was already taken.
A close friend of yours had mutual friends with someone who somehow ended up introducing you to Shawn Mendes, and you immediately fell in love just like the rest of the world did whenever they heard his voice. You felt a little pathetic for succumbing to the worlds way of falling for the same guy every other girl had fallen for, but you couldn’t help it. You understood easily why everyone drooled over him. It didn’t matter anyway, he seemed to be preoccupied with his music or other girls which was understandable. You had surprisingly talked to him often, snapchatting and texting small talk. He was a friend, and you hated it. You wanted to be more than friends. You tried not to flirt a lot, you never asked him about his past girlfriends, and you tried not to talk too much about where he went on those lonely Friday nights at 3am after an award show or something. You secretly cared and you always wished he’d come to you whenever he was looking for a little extra attention on those nights, but he never did. You figured because of the fact that you didn’t talk to him about those things, maybe he would like you, maybe he’d seem excited about the fact that he was talking to a girl who didn’t only care about how good he was in bed, or how much money he was making. You assumed most girls only cared about those things, but you didn’t. And you tried your hardest to make it appear that way, and you tried hard to show that you cared for him. But apparently he wasn’t getting that message, and it continued to break your heart, so you-not even caring anymore at this point- threw away another bouquet of roses that you wished were from Shawn.
Just a little bit of your heart, is all I want
“Yeah, they’re all freaking out because I haven’t posted a picture or anything, it’s kinda funny.” Shawn laughed lightly as he told you about his new tattoo that his fans felt teased by since he hadn’t posted about it. He was right about his fans, and you remember seeing plenty of comments and tweets talking about how much of a tease Shawn was. It was all true, and you wished it wasn’t. There were so many times you wondered if Shawn was flirting with you, and he’d give you tiny bits of what it was like to be with him, only to rip it away from you by taking two days to respond to a simple text, or not talking to you with the same tone. He really was a tease and it drove you crazy. You were currently wrapped up in your thoughts as you looked out the window next to you, watching the busy lives of strangers on the street. You wondered who else was going through what you felt, who else had such strong feelings for someone who didn’t feel the same. The day had taken an unexpected turn and you ended up walking into this fancy restaurant for dinner after work because you felt like you deserved it. It was the weekend after all so why not? You had posted about it on Twitter or something and almost two minutes later Shawn favorited your tweet, and texted you saying he was in that area. So here he was now, sitting across from you with food in front of him. You wanted to call this a date, but of course you didn’t and you assumed it was just a friendly dinner with a good friend. That’s what adults do all the time right? He was chewing on his finger, and that button up dress shirt he was wearing complimented his hazel eyes, along with those curls of his that needed to be cut. You scratched the back of your neck and forced yourself to stop looking at him and to finish your food.
“You okay? Do you not like your food? You can have some of mine if you want or something.” He caught you off guard and his voice melted in you ears like honey being poured into a sweet cup of tea.
“Oh no, I’m fine. I like my food, I’m okay! Thank you though.” You smiled at his kindness to share with you and you shoved some more of your food into your mouth. You really did like what was on your plate, you just found yourself struggling to concentrate on anything when Shawn Mendes was sitting in front of you. You don’t remember being so flustered just by being with him. You’ve been friends with him for some time now and you had talked to him millions of times without getting this nervous. Your feelings were blooming like flowers in the spring, and you wished so badly you could reach across the table to grab him. Grab his face, and kiss him. Grab his chest, to feel his heartbeat. The insides of his heart were most likely just as beautiful as his face. You knew him, and you knew his personality was amazing but you didn’t know him enough, and all you wanted was just even a tiny piece of his heart to learn about. What does he think about when he can’t sleep? Who does he think about the most? His family? His friends? His fans? Himself? Another girl? You chewed on your now cold food and continued to wonder these things, and think these thoughts as he kept talking about who knows what now. You weren’t even listening anymore.
I heard a little love, is better than none
Wind blew around your hair as you walked up to your house, and right as you placed your foot on the step to your door, you almost completely crushed a single rose with your shoe. If you didn’t love flowers so much you wouldn’t have stopped yourself and you would’ve stomped all over the damn rose until it was in pieces. Although you were head over heels for someone else, it was still a little sweet to you that this other stranger was still sending you flowers. But today, you were going to end it. You picked up the rose and walked into your house, placing it on the kitchen table. You pulled out your phone and went to Twitter, you figured this secret admirer of yours was following you ( or so you hoped ) so why not post about this, and ask them to stop sending you roses? You started typing but from the corner of your eye, something caught your attention. You hadn’t even noticed before but there was a small note attached to the stem of the rose like usual, but this time it wasn’t just a heart or some numbers. There were actual words written on the small piece of paper. You almost dropped your phone, picking up the note and tearing it off the little string tied around the stem.
“Don’t forget me, and I won’t forget you.” 6317
What the hell is that supposed to mean?? Next to the one sentence there were numbers written. No lines, no dashes. You re read the sentence and stared at the number trying to figure out what kind of game this person was playing. You looked at the numbers one more time before realizing what the date was today. It was June 4th, 2017, and yesterday was June 3rd. 6/3/17 was yesterday. Right? The numbers had to be a date, what else could it be? You were confused and frustrated either way, so you decided to finish your tweet.
“If you’re sending me roses, please either tell me who you are or just stop. Its very nice of you, but this game is getting tiring.”
You hit send and the tweet was officially posted to everyone. You hung the note on your fridge, hoping maybe you could eventually tell who’s hand writing it was. It was sloppy cursive, that you could barely read at first. You didn’t know anyone who wrote like that, did you? You tried to forget about it and see if anyone responded to your tweet. You figured you’d wait to see if you received anymore roses this week or the next. So you ended your day by placing that red rose into a vase near your window, admiring it as much as your secret admirer admired you.
And I’ll still be a fool for you
The sun woke you, as you turned over to get more comfortable, your bed was always your favorite place to be. But now the sun was keeping you awake and so you reached to your nightstand grabbing your phone, to do the daily social media check. You scrolled through Instagram, Snapchat, and finally Twitter. You scrolled through people tweeting about Shawn’s upcoming tour which saddened you a little to know that he was going to be leaving soon. You guessed it didn’t really matter anyway though right? Without even thinking about it you clicked on Shawn’s Twitter account, just to see what he was up to. He hasn’t texted you or talked to you since you two had lunch the other day. You scrolled down, to see his most recent tweet and you almost dropped your phone on your face.
“Don’t forget me, and I won’t forget you.”
He literally tweeted the same thing that was written on your note. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking at the tweet again. People tweeted him back asking him if that was a new song lyric or something and you just sat there, eyes wide. The stranger sending you roses couldn’t have been Shawn, there was no way. Maybe he just found the same quote your secret admirer found. Your brain was tired but you slowly were trying to put the pieces together. And so you ran down stairs to the trash can in the kitchen looking for more notes with numbers on them. After digging through mini pizza boxes and used tissues, you pulled out two notes from several weeks back. One note had the numbers 52217. May 22nd 2017. May 22nd, was the day Shawn came over to play you an idea he had for a song. You remember this because you pretty much marked in your calendar whenever you spent time with him, but if you were so in love with him how could you be so blind? The other note you found read the numbers 43017. April 30th 2017.. What happened April 30th? You pulled out your phone and looked at your calendar to see if there were any events marked, and of course there was. April 30th was one of Shawn’s shows you attended, and you brought him roses, you were starting to remember now because he used the roses to give out to some fans after the show, and you thought it was so sweet, you weren’t even angry that he got rid of your roses. Roses.
Reality was hitting you hard, and it all made sense now. Shawn had remembered these days just like you did. It was Saturday morning, 8am and Shawn was probably already on his plane to who knows where, you couldn’t even remember where his tour was starting. You texted him a couple times and called, but there was no reply. You stared at the notes on the table in front of you wondering how you were going to handle this. This whole time you thought you knew but you really had no idea. You wondered if Shawn felt angry at you now for your tweet, or if he felt bad. You didn’t know but either way there was one thing you did know, and that was that no matter how far away Shawn was from you, you’d never forget him, and no matter how many roses you threw away, your heart would still belong to him, and it probably always would.