The fight (part 1) // SHAWN MENDES
Overview: Shawn an Y/n have a massive fight resulting in Shawn leaving when he’s about to go on tour the next day.
Authors note: so excited for this *screams internally*
I slammed the front door shut, making Shawn know I had arrived home. I chuck my bag on the couch, storming into the dinning room where I find him with his laptop, papers messily arranged on the glass table.
“You think I wouldn’t find out,” I seethe, my hands angrily twitching at my sides.
“Hello to you too,” Shawn snaps, not looking up from what ever was on his screen.
“Do you even care?” I ask, walking closer to him, now with my arms folded across my chest.
“Care about what?” Shawn murmurs, eyes still locked onto the computer screen.
I let out an angry huff, turning away from him completely and walking out the room.
“Y/n?” I hear his voice call but I continue, walking into our shared bedroom, the bed that he hasn’t slept in for around 5 nights. He hadn’t bothered coming home as he had spent so much time at the studio recently, he thought he might as well sleep there.
I roll my eyes at the thought. It felt like we weren’t even properly together. We hadn’t talked, hadn’t seen each other for way too long for it to be healthy for our relationship and then for me to find out he was going on tour tomorrow from one of my friends, it made my blood boil.
I shrug my jacket off my shoulders and hang it on the coat rack in the corner of the room before moving in front of the dresser to take my earrings off in the mirror.
I place them in a box, returning my gaze to the mirror, Shawn’s figure reflecting in the mirror of him standing by the door frame.
“Yes?” I ask, my tone clipped.
“What do you mean I don’t care?” He asks, folding his arms across his chest like I did previously.
“I know, Shawn,” I say, glaring daggers at him.
“About what?” He asks, chucking his hands up, desperation creeping into his voice.
“About tour. Tour that starts tomorrow,” I say, my voice breaking at the end as I feel the weird sensation of tears filling my eyes.
“Oh… that,” Shawn mutters, turning away from my gaze. “I was going to tell you,’
“Really? Were you?” I ask, feigning hope.
“Of course,” He says walking over and sitting on the bed.
“Thats so sweet of you to tell me that you were leaving for 3 months just as you were walking out the door,” my tone is sickly sweet as I shoot him a fake smile.
He groans, flopping back on the bed.
“Do you know who I heard it from?” I screech, anger fueling my fire.
“Who?” he says, almost as if he was bored with the subject.
“Andrew. He goes ‘are you excited for Shawn’s European leg of tour’?” I give him another look of fury. “’Of course’ I go ‘when is it?’ Then I receive the look of pity when he says tomorrow. TOMORROW SHAWN!”
He winces at how loud my voice is in the quiet apartment.
“I can’t help it if tour takes me away from you. You knew what you were getting into when you first started dating me,” He tries to reason.
“Of course I knew what I was getting into Shawn, what I didn’t know is that you wouldn’t tell me about when you were leaving, if you were actually coming home for dinner some nights or if you were actually still in the same country as me!”
A tear slips down my face and I wipe it away angrily, hating to show weakness when he didn’t even seem the least bit affected.
“I get that you have to tour, I understand, but god Shawn seriously, not even a text saying hey I’m staying at the studio tonight- not coming home for dinner, don’t bother cooking me anything otherwise it will just be wasted and I’ll have to chuck it away,” My point seems to change, now attacking his lack of contact with me.
“I was busy,”
“You’re always busy!” I sob, my voice rugged as I try to get the air flowing into my lungs which feel like they’re being constricted. “I go to sleep at night wondering if I’ll wake up and you’ll be there. Surprise, surprise, You’re not,” I laugh, the sound harsh against my ears.
“I can’t do this right now, I have to get ready for tour,” Shawn mumbles, never once meeting my bloodshot eyes, walking straight out the room
“Well hey, thanks for at least telling me that this time!” I yell out to him, exuding fake happiness.
“You’re welcome!” Is shouted at me, the slam of the front door being the goodbye. For how long, I didn’t know.