Shawn Mendes Imagines Part 2 {COMPLETED}

79. Fight and Make Up

A/n: Explicit language warning for this imagine! Also, this is before you and Shawn live together. Okay, let's begin.

I was visiting my boyfriend of two years, singer and songwriter Shawn Mendes, at his place in Toronto, Canada. He's currently at a meeting. I just got in, his friend Brian drove me from the airport to Shawn's place. Shawn said that he felt bad that he couldn't pick me up but he couldn't cancel the meeting and he knew that I would be in good hands with Brian.

I walked into Shawn's placed and immediately gasped. It looked like a tornado went through and wrecked his place. He had journals all over the place, towels and clothes were strewn everywhere. Plates that still had food on them were out. His other dishes weren't in the dishwasher. Guitars were out of place. His place was a complete and utter mess. I decided to take care of my boyfriend and clean up this mess.

I picked up the journals one by one and stacked them on top of each other. I gathered the pencils that had been strewn around the coffee table and placed them in a small pile next to the journals, which I put on the nightstand next to his bed, that way, if he got an idea while in bed, he could just reach for one of the journals and write it down.

I picked up all of the dirty towels and dirty clothes that were scattered across the apartment, mostly on the floor in Shawn's bedroom, and put them in the washer that was in Shawn's place.

I threw out the food that had been left out, it would have gone bad by now since it was out in the open. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and started that load. As soon as they were done in the dishwasher, I dried them off and put them away in their rightful places.

I picked up the guitars that were scattered around the apartment, mostly the living room, and put them away in the right places. I soon heard the door to Shawn's apartment open and then close.

"What the hell?" I heard Shawn say. I rushed over to him.

"What's wrong baby boy?" I asked. He looked furious.

"Did you move my journals?" He asked angrily. I nodded and played with my fingers, a nervous habit that I have.

"Well, yeah, but -" I said before I was so rudely interrupted.

"And did you move my fucking guitars?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, I put them away for you." I said.

"Did I fucking say that you could touch my guitars?" He asked. I backed up a little. I've never seen him like this, and it was a little scary.

"No, but I was just trying to tidy up and clean up the place. It looked a bit messy so I thought that you wouldn't mind it if I cleaned it for you." I said.

"Did I ask you to clean up my place?" He asked. I shook my head no.

"No, but I wanted to take care of you." I said.

"Well maybe I don't need you to take care of me!" He yelled.

"You know what Shawn, I need to leave, because you obviously don't want me here, and obviously your guitars are too precious to be touched by someone other than you and Mayer. I need to go." I said as I grabbed my keys and stormed past him.

"No, wait, baby, I didn't mean that." He said, but I was already out the door.

Shawn's point of view

I just fucked up. Like, majorly fucked up. I came home to my apartment. I had been so happy on my way home because I knew that my girl was going to be there. But when I got to my place, things had been moved, like my precious guitars and my song journals. Y/n thinks that only my friend John Mayer and I can touch my guitars. My guitars are indeed special to me, but she's more special to me than anything in this world. She can touch them if she wants.