Shawn Mendes Imagines

Death Could Not Hold You (pt. 2) ✔️

*SHAWN'S POV*

Life was empty. Every day was dark. Every night was a void of sorrow. Every day was a period of grief. Every week was a time of regret. Every month was a hopeless vacuum of nothing.

It'd been two months since her death.

I'd broken things off with Hannah. I couldn't deal with it, with loving another girl. I didn't want her and I knew it wasn't fair to lead her on.

I could only remember Y/N. Whenever I saw a flash of her hair colour, eyes the same shade, and lips the same shade of deep pink, I saw her. For a moment my entire body would be full of joy, as if her whole death, the whole accident had been a lie.

But then I would focus on the girl's face. It was then I'd realise that she wasn't Y/N; she wasn't the beautiful girl that owned my heart, my soul.

No one was her.

Sleep was the worst, though it was the best. It was when I could see her face most vividly, hear her voice most clearly, feel her touch most intensely. But when I woke up I was forced to face the reality: the reality that she was gone, she was dead and I was left behind. Sleep was my escape and my demise all wrapped into one. I saw her behind my eyelids and missed her with every waking breath. Waking up from the dreams of her was like having to re-live everything all over again. It was a never ending cycle of pain.

It is the same painful occurrence repeatedly, every morning and every night. When I arose, I would roll over to put my arm around her, to gently guide her body to mine, to feel her encompassing warmth. When I opened an eye to look for her, the crushing feeling would return to my chest and the burning of the tears would reappear.

I remember her funeral like it was yesterday...

I'd spent the night crying, as I had been doing lately, till the sun rose, before exhaustion overtook me and I fell asleep. I'd awoken to my Mum softly speaking my name into my ear. Her hand rubbed up and down my arm, trying to soothe me. It didn't work. No one could lessen the pain.

"Shawn," she murmured, "you have to get up. It's Y/N's funeral."

I squeezed my eyes shut in dismay. Of course I knew it was her funeral. How could I not? I'd been forced to count down the days to this dreadful event. I was going to read out my eulogy to everyone, even when I didn't deserve to.

"Do I have to go?" I whined gruffly, wrapping the blanket tight around me. It was so cold in here without her.

"Yes, you have to go. You need to pay your respects. I know how much you miss her and how hard this is for you, but she deserves a proper goodbye from you." Mum's voice was full of sympathy and she stroked my arm. I knew she meant well but her touch was making my skin crawl because I didn't want anyone near me, just y/n. Just the one person I couldn't have. Ever again. I hated the pitying looks I was receiving from everyone. I didn't deserve them. I'd left her; I'd thrown away our five year relationship. I deserved to be left in my own misery.

"It's killing me, Mum." I choked out as tears welled up in my eyes. I clutched her pillow to my chest, burying my face it in. I'd sprayed it with her favourite perfume, the one she always smelled of.

"Oh Shawn." Mum kissed my head as I cried. "It'll get better, I promise."

"When?" I wept, "When will I get over this?"

"You never get over the death of someone you love. You just learn to live without them."

"I don't want to." I inhaled deeply. "I don't want to live without her."

"You have to." Mum took my hand in hers. "Shawn, Y/N wouldn't have wanted you to be like this."

"It should've been me in that accident."