(short and unedited oops)
We had been serious for five months exactly.
The moment I knew was when he was headed off to New York for a few days to promote his new single. He gave me a key to check up on his condo while he was gone, and never asked for it back.
I should have known it was mine to keep, though. It was on a white cold chain that he placed around my neck before we said our goodbyes at the airport. He took my face in his hands, kissed me throughly, and said, “Take care of yourself, and my condo,” he smirked and let me go, headed to the gate where his team stood, waiting to board the flight.
I couldn’t blame myself for being oblivious. Shawn knew I was a total trainwreck when it came to remembering where things were. I thought he put the key on a chain in case I put it down somewhere and forgot where. That had happened far too many times. My phone, the charm bracelet he bought me, every pair of shoes I’ve ever owned…the list was neverending.
I walked down the hall to the door of his condo. It had become a ritual of ours to dinner at each other’s places- whether one of us would cook or order takout. It was his turn, and I had told him I would get off of work early (perks of being a writer, I could finish my articles and edit where ever I pleased) so I would to head straight to his condo so we could cook dinner together.
I knew he probably had no intention of making anything, because Shawn was certainly not an iron chef. But since I knew my way around the kitchen, we were definitely making our own creation tonight. And maybe dessert in the bedroom.
I took the key from around my neck and unlocked the white door, turning the handle and entering the condo. It was slightly messy, but that was no surprise. Shawn always said he didn’t have time to clean up in the morning as he was always so rushed to get to the studio.
I rolled my eyes and giggled, riding myself of my coat. “Shawn?” I called, realizing that he didn’t appear at the sound of the door.
I furrowed my brow and walked along the expanse of the living room, waiting for a response. While doing so, I spotted his breakfast dishes on the vintage coffee table situated in front of the white L-shaped couch. I shook my head and smiled, walking towards the table to clear the dishes- two bowls, fruit and most likely cereal, and a coffee mug that still has some dregs in it, probably stone cold. I picked them up and headed to the kitchen and dumped them in the sink, getting ready to wash them when I caught sight of the post-it stuck to the faucet.
I plucked it from its position and read it out loud. “Dear Y/N, running late at the studio, so I’ll be late for dinner. I went to the grocery this morning so you can start cooking without me. I’ll be back around 6:00. Love, Shawn,”
I pouted deeply. Cooking was literally no fun without him. Who would I smear spaghetti sauce on? Who would blow flour in my hair as we made crepes for dessert? In the few times we made actual dessert, of course.
I blushed at the thought. No part of me felt like baking tonight, though. I fanned myself with the tiny slip of paper, sighing, suddenly hot and bothered, thinking of all the things we had done in this kitchen, in his bedroom, even in his bathroom.
Feeling my thoughts drift, I realized we had never done it in the living room. Probably because of the gigantic floor to ceiling window behind the couch. Yeah, that was never going to happen.
I balled up the note and threw it in the trashcan next to the island. I rolled up my sweater’s soft sleeves and turned the faucet on, making to wash the dishes, but my hands stopped as I was about to grab the cereal bowl. I smirked.
“Hm,” I hummed deviously, turning the water off, swiveling away from the sink, and folding my arms as my smirk deepened.
Shawn wouldn’t be home for another- I checked my watch- two hours. Slowly, I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall that led to his bedroom.
“Two hours, eh?” I mumbled as I opened his door, welcomed by his unmade bed, crumpled up towel on the floor, pyjamas thrown over his loveseat that was opposite his bed. My eyes drifted to the closet. “Alone in this huge condo, with nothing to do,” I said to myself, walking towards the two large white doors that led to his clothes.
You could clean.
I ran straight for his closet, tearing the doors opening and shuffeling through his clothes that were neatly secured on hangers. Thee assortment of gray, black, with he occasional splash of red or blue. T-Shirts, dress shirts and sweaters all passed through my fingers.
My v neck sweater, skinny jeans and pumps were clinging to my skin and getting extremely unbearable, seen as how I had to walk up and down the office, then to his building. Unable to take it anymore, I pealed the items off my body, only in my underwear. I tossed them into the hamper and rummaged through the clothes again for something to wear. Shawn’s clothes were so comfortable. Whenever I snuggled up to him on his couch or his bed, always felt like I was wearing what ever he wore- the fabric of his clothing was that transferable. Imagine what it would be like to actually wear it?
Eventually, I decided on a crip white shirt- the one that accompanied the suit he wore to the Grammys earlier that year. I practically owned it- I ripped it off him after the ceremony and had to sew the buttons back on myself. It was mine. I picked out a pair of his black Nike socks as well from the drawer below the rack of shirts, and slipped them on my feet.
I threw the shirt over my body and buttoned it up from the bottom, stopping halfway. My lace undergarments peaked through the fabric as I walked out of his closet, closing the doors behind me.
As I exited his bedroom, I suddenly felt ambitious. From where I stood, I could see the living room. And suddenly, it was like The Nanny all over again as I slid across the waxed floors, screaming boisterously, Shawn’s socks aiding in the movement perfectly. I stopped right in front of his couch, spreading my arms out for balance, and just stood there, admiring what was outside that huge window. He had the perfect panoramic view of the toronto skyline, the CN tower standing out above all of them. I always thought of his first tattoo- now joined by many others- whenever I saw this sight. I smiled softly and plopped down face first on his couch, reaching for the remote. I aimed it at the TV and pressed the button, but that wasn’t what I turned on.
Noise suddenly blasted from his stereo system- the sound of ‘Shape Of You’ blaring loudly from the speakers that hung next the TV. I popped up from the couch and threw my hands in the air, the remote flying from my grasp. I began to dance around the condo, my hips swaying to the beat of this song that would never get old.
I found myself inventing new dance moves (or at least I thought I was) while I moved around the expanse of Shawn’s living space. I had a carefree smile on my face as I waved my hands around and occasionaly belted out lyrics. My tiny, cramped apartment would never allow any sort of outrageous movement like this, which is why I took advantage of the time I had to myself here.
I was shocked at the way I was acting, to be honest. I had never been this outgoing before. Granted I was alone and the only person I had to entertain was myself.
“GIRL YOU KNOW I WANT YOUR LOVE!” I shrieked as I bent down by the waist and popped back up, my hair flying around my face and tumbling over my shoulders as I continued to girate and sway to the music.
I danced for the duration of the song until it stopped. I panted heavily and walked back over to the couch, sitting on the edge of it. I piled my hair into a messy bun on top of my head as I got up again to get a drink of water, pausing the music player before another song could start.
Holding my glass in my hand as I tumbled it around, hearing the ice clink against it, I walked down the same hallway that led to his bedroom, venturing further down. It was almost like I had never been there before, the way the things I had seen many times prior surprised my all over again- such as the guitar shaped bookshelf and the replica of the Backstreet Boys’ star from the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
I came to his music room, where his guitars, keyboard and drumset lay. My fingers ran along the instruments aimlessly as I recalled all the occasions on which I had heard him play them. Every concert I had ever been to, he had shredded on these guitars like his life depended on it. And like he told me, it did. I smiled as I thought about how happy he was when he was on stage. And I couldn’t blame him. The guitar had the power to make you feel invincible.
Suddenly, I got a thought.
“I am on a roll today!” I exclaimed, gently picking his bass up. I searched around for his mini amp, and found it next to his desk. I grabbed it and ran back outside to the living room.
This shouldn’t have been too hard. Shawn had taught me how to play his bass before. It was basically the same thing- only I was doing it on my own.
Placing the strap across my body, I plugged it into the amp and gave it a hard strum, the sound echoing throughout the condo. I gasped and drew my hands away from it, eyes wide.
“Okay, I don’t remember you being that loud,” I said nervously, wondering how many people heard that. “Let’s try this again,” I muttered. Placing my fingers accordingly on the strings, playincg notes softly. I only strumed the ones I remembered from the song Shawn taught me, and it was obvious. The entire thing was detatched and awkward. Still, I was proud of myself. I was atrocious at anything artistic or musically talented. This was the best I could do on my own.
Eventually, I stopped whatever the hell I thought I was doing and just gave another powerful strum, racing my fingers across all the strings at once.
I would have done it again, but the door swung open and in walked Shawn, lips set in a straight line. He folded his arms at me, cocking brow.
I giggled nervously, my heart rate speeding up. “Um…..hey babe! You’re back early!” I exclaimed, setting the bass down quickly and walking over to him, taking his stiff hands in mine and pecking his lips. “How was the studio?” I asked. I felt like I child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. My face contorted awkwardly as I tried to lighten the mood.
“Good. I got a lot done. And uh, clearly you did too,” he said, his face no longer blunt, as a grin spread over his face.
I breathed out and smiled. That look he gave meant he wasn’t actually mad. “Yeah, I did,” I laughed, brushing my hair out of my face, his hand coming up to help me as he kissed me gently on the forehead.
“At least you didn’t burn the place down,” he chuckled.
“Don’t mistake me for you, Mendes,” I scolded jokingly, poking him in his bicep as he wrapped his arms around my tightly, one hand running across the small of my back while the other gripped my bum.
“How funny. I decide to come home from the studio early because I felt bad for leaving you alone to cook. Speaking of which, did you even start? Or were you too busy attempting to shred on my bass?” he asked, cocking a brow at me once again.
I blushed guiltily, then scoffed. “For your information I’m way better at that than you’ll ever be,” I teased as we swayed back and forth.
He only laughed and shook his head, pressing his lips to my head again, not saying anything.
For a while we just stood there, staring out the large window wordlessly. A few minutes later, when I was practically in a trance from Shawn’s hold, he spoke up and brought me back to the world.
“Y/N, baby, why are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, not looking at me, keeping his nose buried in my hair.
“My clothes were getting uncomfortable,” I said simply. No need to sugarcoat it.
“Mmm…acceptable excuse,” he said.
“This shirt’s comfy. Even though you have a terrible sense of dress,” I joked, laughing into his chest.
He snorted. “Oh, you know you love me,” he bragged, pulling back from our embrace to look me in the eye.
I smiled and placed my hands on his chest, smiling up at him. “Of course I do,” I muttered, leaving wet, mess kisses on his neck, causing a groan to escape the back of his throat.
“How about you show me how much you love me,” he didn’t ask, it was more of a demand.
I complied, grabbing his shirt and pushing him forcefully onto the couch. Once he laid flat, I climbed onto of him and pressed my lips to his, running my fingers through his hair, until they settled at his nape. My knees settled on either side of him as our kiss intensified.
I broke it, just for a second, and whispered, “Gladly,”
Hope you enjoyed 😘