Feb 10, 2023
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Fine Line || part i
author: here we go, lovies!! Want to give a quick shoutout to my babe @wholesomemendes because Kaleigh has been so supportive and I love her. Also quick thanks to @sauveteen and @shawnjpeg for writing you flower, you feast (I tagged it) because it made me want to do this and @watchmegetobsessed because she reinstated my need to write this story when I read back to you (i tagged it). I hope you fall in love with Maia like I did and enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!!
synopsis: she walks the fine line between friends and lovers. he walks the fine line between love and heartbreak. they walk the fine line where everything is blurred.
warnings: 4.2k of oblivious “best friends” obsessing over each other. It’s a little angsty but more fluffy than anything.
Jet-lagged Shawn is simultaneously Maia’s favorite and least favorite version of Shawn. Or maybe her favorite was her drunk Best Friend after her seventeenth birthday when he became affectionate and clingy crying out her name. But the jet-lagged version was definitely up there.
He looked soft, in grey sweatpants and his ‘Youth’ sweatshirt. With hooded eyes, rosy cheeks, and chapped lips, emulating a sigh from the back of his throat. Exhaustion hid messily behind his smiling features. It was clear to her though. Maia could recall this look, and his crushing weight on top of her, since high school before he was selling out stadiums.
She enjoyed this sleepy side because she knew what followed his sweet demeanor. His forehead would crease, his hands would tug at his perfect curls, his voice would drop to a grumble while his muscles flexed. It was the worst.
Maia has seen a lot of jet-lagged Shawn throughout the years. Whether he was in a different country while on tour or flying to Los Angeles from Toronto too much, she’d confidently say she knew her best friend in this state quite well.
The Oceania leg of his headlining world tour was complete. Shawn had rushed from Auckland, New Zealand all the way to his condo, and happily found her curled around the softest blanket he owned, sunk into his white couch.
The second he heard ‘New Girl’ reruns coming from his tv through the door, his heart was light. Finding Maia exactly where he hoped she’d be, just bringing up his heart rate further. And he took a minute just drinking her in. It didn’t matter that her hair was messy with knots littered about, that her, his, sweater was wrinkled, and she softly snored. It didn’t matter that those noises began overpowering the dialogue of the show she’d seen too many times to count.
What mattered to Shawn was seeing his Maia for the first time in months. She didn’t live here, though he had asked her to move in with him on multiple occasions, she had always refused because her life was in Montreal, five hours and eleven minutes away from him. A few hours doesn’t seem terrible, because frankly, it wasn’t, but Shawn missed seeing her the moment he got home. Back when she lived in Toronto, a mere four-minute drive from the famous boy, Maia ended up spending more time frolicking through his halls than her own.
Things did change, though. No matter how hard Shawn denied it. Because she got her dream job, and she moved away. Away from him.
Yet, here she was. His Maia, five hours away from her congested apartment, instead found sleeping soundly in his. Shawn couldn’t be happier seeing her there. He toed the heel of his Chelsea boots off his feet and shuffled over, praying his socks would mute the sounds of movement. Crouched by Maia’s face, hand coming up to cup her cheek, he was undeniably adoring her. He stared from this closer angle before pressing the calloused pad of his thumb across her cheekbone and peacefully roused her from her dreams.
“Papillon?”
She had called him that jokingly in school after a French class they had together. Leaning against her locker as students bustled and shoved their way down the small halls of Pine Ridge Secondary School. One extra aggressive classmate pushed so hard against Shawn’s bag he ended up pressed into Maia.
“You’re so fragile, Papillon.”
“Papillon? What ev-”
“It’s French for butterfly.”
“Really? And why am I a butterfly again?”
She had responded with some stupid excuse about him being delicate and a clutz before shoving him off her chest.
The nickname stuck. It didn’t matter that Shawn’s limbs had filled out or that he could lift her off the ground with ease. He was always Maia’s Papillon.
Her eyes were shut tight, her brows furrowed, and she mewled his name in question over and over.
“Maia,” he smiled when your shifting eased as his voice echoed along the walls, “Flower, I’m right here. Open your eyes, M.”
“Papillon?”
He watched as her eyes opened and nodded, his smile only growing when her arms wrapped around his neck.
Maia had driven, on Ontario-401 East, with every intention of surprising Shawn. She had thought about going all out, but after considering how jetlagged he’d be, Maia simply bought some popcorn preparations and flipped his television on.
“When did you get in?”
“About an hour ago. We took the long route home, Jake said something about a wreck on Gardiner Expressway.”
She nodded, too overwhelmed by her happiness to speak more. Maia’s hands found the small of his back, under the navy fabric of his sweatshirt, and pulled his body over her figure. Shawn’s arms quickly adjusted to brace his weight on his forearms on either side of her pouting face.
“What?” He flicked the hairs framing her face out of her eyes, “don’t give me that look!”
Her hands pressed down harder on his back, trying to effectively press his body down to hers.
“Stop! Your hands are so fucking cold. Jesus Christ, woman.”
Maia’s hands slipped out from under his clothes, holding his shoulders. Pulling down harshly, still wanting his weight on her.
“Honey,” Shawn’s hands slid along her jaw, “hey, I really don’t want to crush you.”
“Just c’ mere.”
“Flower, I love you, but I’ll crush you.”
He wasn’t lying; his 6’2” frame would smother Maia’s shorter figure, by seven inches. She had always been dainty, her hands barely reaching his second knuckles when they compared their hands.
“I know,” she smiled sheepishly, “you’re just far away.”
Shawn agreed, even though their legs were intertwined, her chest was pressed to his, and he felt her familiar heartbeat. He smiled softly when Maia continued pouting until he quickly shifted to flip their position. His body, now resting against the cushions, cradled her as she laid on top of him.
“I’m right here,” his hands made grabby motions at her hips.
She was quick to oblige, her head tucking into the crook of his body. Her lips grazed the crease in his shoulder, her hair brushed along the underside of his jaw. This was her favorite Shawn, the one who seemed happy to just exist with her.
“Bub.”
“Mmm?” He hummed against her skin, Maia felt the goosebumps crawling up her spine from the vibration.
"I have popcorn and hot chocolate makings on your counter.”
He hummed again, softer this time. Shawn knew they'd move from this position before too long because she wasn’t really his to hold, not like this, at least. No matter how many times he called her his Maia. She’d never be his, not really.
“Let me hold you a little longer,” he relished in the feeling of her lips pressed sweetly to his neck, “okay? M, just a little longer.”
“You good?”
His hands squeezed the curve of her side, before letting her pull away just barely. His perfect Maia coming into view.
“More than good,” he smiled as she brushed her finger down the bridge of his nose, “perfect, really.”
Her smile grew, her gaze remained locked on his. Maia leaned down, kissing the scar on his cheek, remembering that day happily. His heart almost hurt from beating so hard, and Shawn had to hold back a whimper when her eyelashes fluttered. She was so perfect, staring down at him. The moment broke off much too fast for either of them as she rose to her feet, hand outstretched for his.
“I love you, Papillon.”
“I love you too,” Shawn’s eyes locked on their intertwined hands, “God, I really fucking missed you.”
She just laughed and pulled him towards the kitchen. Both with gushing smiles and red cheeks, looking like a teenager with a stupid crush.
Maia wasn’t lying when she told Shawn she’d gone shopping for popcorn, but she wasn’t being completely truthful either. She had stocked up all his cabinets with food of all kinds, including a takeout box holding his favorite french toast from Regine Cafe, a local favorite down the block from her Montreal apartment. She had bought the makings of chocolate chip muffins, and he saw what looked like all the parts of a traditional English roast dinner. Shawn’s favorite meal his mom, Karen, makes when she comes by.
“You’re too good to me.”
“Yeah, well, you’re too good to me, we even out,” she chuckled, stepping up behind him, “I know you get homesick, and I just saved your mum the drive down. She always made you food before you get home, and I was already here. It made sense, Shawn.”
He hadn’t even been processing Maia’s voice behind him, all too focused on her small arms looping around his waist, her chin resting between his shoulder blades.
“Either way, thank you.”
“You’d do the same.”
“True,” she could practically hear his eye roll, “but, just let me say thank you.”
“Okay.”
The two just remained in the corner of the kitchen, enjoying the sweet, homey silence of Shawn’s condo. They worked happily making hot chocolate because it was past midnight, neither of them needing caffeine, and Maia had never liked the bitterness of coffee. Before long, they both had steaming mugs being stirred with silver spoons.
“Put your drink down.”
“Why?”
“Just,” he smiled at her confused look, “trust me, okay? Drink down, Flower, please.”
The moment the ceramic touched the marble countertop, his hands found the small of her waist just above her hips. He lifted Maia into the air, chuckling, as she squealed in shock. The hair of her arms stood up, her warm skin made contact with the cold counter she was now sitting on. She nearly gasped when Shawn’s hands found home under her shirt where the fabric met her cotton shorts, kneading the skin gently.
“You’re crazy,” her head fell to his shoulder.
“Yeah, for you. Only for you, M.”
Her heart dropped, freezing up her whole body, but Shawn’s hands continued to massage the tight muscle.
“Jesus, woman, why are you so tense? It’s just me.”
“Would you stop saying ‘woman’?”
“You are one, aren’t you?”
He was being cheeky, Maia’s body remained stiff in his hold.
“Relax,” his lips kissed her forehead, hoping she’d melt into his touch again, he repeated his mumble, “it’s just me.”
Shawn continued to move his hands, reassuring her of his words, until she slumped against him like putty in his hands. She turned her head, letting her lips brush the soft skin above his collarbone. Maia’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying their closeness, knowing she couldn’t have it for much longer.
“Honey,” she hummed against his skin, sending vibrations down his spine, “what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve just been clingy.”
Maia’s eyes snapped open the second he finished his remark, quickly, adjusting her legs, forcing Shawn to move out from between her thighs. She offered him a half-ass, awkward smile before hopping off the counter.
“Whoa, wha-what?” He followed her figure with his eyes, not moving, still in shock from her sudden distance, “what just happened?”
“Nothing, um, I’m heading to bed, it’s late.”
“Flower…”
“See you in the morning?”
“What about,” his eyes searched for an excuse for her to stay, “what about your hot chocolate?”
“You can have it or just dump it in the sink.”
Shawn nodded his head, a frown on that perfect face of his as he watched Maia leave the kitchen, wandering down the hall.
He just stood there, processing the demeanor change, it was completely drastic to your soft persona he adored so much. His hands found his curls tugging on them harshly like she had predicted he would at some point, just not for the same reason. Shawn hated it when she blocked herself off from him, especially when he caused it.
Maia was never one to let her emotions out, she liked to keep them bottled so no one would worry until Shawn would mumble one word and she’d be falling apart in his arms.
His hands absentmindedly found the two lukewarm mugs dumping them into his sink and placing them on the metal drainer, reminding himself to deal with it in the morning. The quiet the two of them shared, now seemed bitter practically nipping at his mind until he walked down his hallway. He found himself staring at his bedroom door.
He let the light from the hall sneak in when he entered the room, not wanting to disturb your quiet and unmoving body with the overhead fixtures. His hands found the neckline of his soft sweatshirt, pulling it from his body. The once comforting warmth was now claustrophobic against his flustered skin. Shawn wanted her cold fingertips to run along the valleys in his back, to lure him to sleep. He lightly padded his way to the bed, feeling around the duvet for the curve of Maia’s figure only to come up empty. The mattress was cold, her perfume only lingering from that morning when she crawled out. Shawn could feel his stomach drop, knowing she was upset enough to not curl into his king-sized bed for comfort.
He flopped back, not bothering to pull any blanket over him, his arm folded behind his head as he considered his choices. Knowing Maia wouldn’t fall asleep laying across the hall from him, Shawn climbed out after only minutes of staring longingly from the ceiling to the crack between his door and the frame.
He stood silently in the hall, peeking into the guest room, sure enough seeing her resting form in a lump under the wool blanket stolen from his bed. His legs had a mind of their own walking towards you until he was kneeling at the foot of the mattress. He felt the fabric sink under the new weight, and Maia’s red eyes were connected with his all too welcoming honey ones. He could barely see her face, but the city lights reflected off her cheeks, tear tracks hitting him in the gut all over again. Shawn walked around the bed until he was kneeling by her face, just like she’d seen him earlier that night.
“Shawn, what ar-” her voice was cracked, and she had sniffled when taking a breath.
“Baby,” he was basically whimpering, reaching to cup her damp cheeks, “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything, okay? M, I shouldn’t hav-”
“Shaw-”
“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk to me. I swear, I just wanted to be helpful. And you’re absolutely not clingy, I love it when you let me in, and you are so close to me. Flower, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.”
Shawn was crying, when Maia’s hands gripped his. Pulling him into her embrace, this time, however, he let his weight crush her dainty figure.
Shawn buried his head deep in her dark hair, his lips moving next to her ear mumbling.
“Sorry, Baby,” he repeated, again and again, mixed with sweet nothings.
“Papillon, hey,” she pulled his head back, so their temples pressed together, his nose against her cheekbone, “hey, I overreacted, please calm down. It kills me to see you like this, Bub.”
He pulled back further to hold her gaze, both their teary eyes making them let out soft chuckles of relief. Shawn rolled them over, letting his Maia bury herself in his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne.
“I love you,” He littered kisses on her eyelids, before letting Maia curl up in her spot in his neck.
“Mmm,” she hummed, the goosebumps down Shawn’s spine were back, “I love you too, Papillon, so much.”
He smiled as her breathing evened out, her grip loosening but still holding his bare chest against her now sleeping body. Shawn let his hand travel across the expanse of her spine under his sweater, adorning her figure. Maia leaned into his touch, her mind not letting her overthink in its restful sleep. It was like all her inhibitions were gone when his calloused thumb stroked the curve between her shoulder blades, enjoying the softness of her tanned skin. This was Shawn’s favorite Maia. His Maia. It was rare, but when he could just hold her silently, it always sent a serene wave over his mind just being with the girl he adored, holding her.
Shawn didn’t mind that he didn’t sleep before the sun peeked through his windows, the rays sending a glow over the skin he could see from the gap between her shorts and the rolled-up knit fabric of his sweater. He didn’t mind staring at her with a soft smile because he couldn’t sleep. His jetlagged head was eight hours ahead of hers. He definitely wouldn’t mind curling up with her later when he did, finally, tire out sometime in the afternoon.
“Shawn?”
His gaze moved from where his hand grazed her skin to her now open eyes, hours after sunrise. Shawn took in the depth and warmth of her brown irises. He smiled when her cheeks crinkled as she giggled at his sheepish expression, after being caught watching her sleep.
“How long have you been up?”
“Not long,” he was lying, Maia could tell when he gazed back down at his hands, not daring to make eye contact, “how did you sleep?”
“Good. What time is it in New Zealand?”
“Like twelve or one I think, why?”
“You haven’t slept?”
“Honey, it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep early tonight, eh?”
She nodded yawning and enjoyed her view of her best friend's home. Maia’s hands found the edge of the covers, pushing them off of her, Shawn's hand slipping out from under her clothes when she adjusted. He quickly grabbed her waist, pulling her back into bed, flush against his chest when she tried to climb out.
“Where do you think you’re going, Flower?”
“Mmm, up.”
He held her tight when she went to stand again, laughing when she huffed, realizing she’d be unable to overpower his strength.
“Shawn, our day is already shortened because you’ll be collapsing in exhaustion by like two.”
“I’ll stay up for you.”
“Yeah,” she frowned from on top of him, his hands holding her down on his stomach, “you and I both know that’s not what I want, Papillon. It’s not healthy.”
“Stop your worrying, woman.”
“Stop calling me ‘woman’”
She groaned, still sitting on him, her legs on either side of his waist. His hands squeezed her legs, showing no signs of letting go at any point. Maia realized a morning cuddled into Shawn wouldn’t hurt, even if both their sleep schedules changed in the result, so she let her chest slump onto his and just enjoyed the feeling of his touch everywhere.
“Shawn?”
“Mmm?”
“How long are you home for?”
He sighed and his movements stopped for a moment before she looked up at him. Shawn smiled down at the girl in his arms before continuing to rub her back and kissed her forehead softly.
“My first show is the twenty-ninth,” he tried to ignore the pull on his heart when Maia frowned, “so, I’ll leave in a couple weeks for rehearsal and publicity.”
She nodded, wanting to say something along the line of ‘I wish you could stay’ or ‘I wish I could go with you’ but, wishes were all they’d be. So, Maia held her tongue not wanting to give Shawn any ideas or hopes that she’ll skip the rest of her school semester. She would skip the rest of the semester, she’d probably skip the rest of the year because no one, in her mindset, could say no to him.
“How long can you stay?”
“Um,” she glanced up at him, trying to see past the little stubble on his chin, resting on his chest to see his eyes, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”
His eyes looked down to hers in shock, the idea of her staying in Toronto with him for two weeks almost too overwhelming.
“Really?”
“I mean, yeah. I’m taking a couple classes online right now, so I’m in no rush.”
“In that case,” he tickled at her side, getting a sweet laugh in reward, “you’re stuck with me, forever.”
“Forever?”
“Baby, now that I have you, I’m not letting you leave this bed, much less my city. Or Drake’s city, whatever”
Maia giggled and settled back in his arms, smiling at the idea of being his forever, just the two of them holed up in his bed, his apartment, and this perfect little world for both of them. Her heart fell a bit, knowing he’d share that world with a different girl, eventually, that Maia wouldn’t always get the benefits of Shawn’s love once a girlfriend enters the picture. Once he finds the love of his life.
She couldn’t bear the idea, much less a reality like that. She pulled away, just slightly.
tbreak. She’d excuse her love towards the boy on multiple occasions by choosing to believe she just missed him like any best friend should. And maybe a bit more.
Shawn could read Maia like an open book, his concerned eyes watching her, searching for answers in her silence. He watched the shift in her eyes from its warm, chocolate color to a dark, sad muddied color.
“Hey, Honey,” he was still watching her reactions, “we’re taking advantage of this time, yeah? And then it’s only a month apart, and then we’ll be back in Pickering for Christmas. My parents would love to have you again, and then I can stay in Montreal with you for a while. You’re stuck with me, M. You should know that by now.”
She smiled, but that sweet light he loved hadn’t shown up again, so Shawn pulled her down onto his chest, hoping Maia would curl into him again. She’d be happy again, and that’s all he cared about.
“I love you, Flower.”
“I love you, too,” she rested her chin on his chest, the little hairs tickling her skin, to stare at him, “I’m just homesick, I think.”
“Want to go back to Pickering for a couple days, then? I was actually thinking that’d be a good trip. I’d love to see my parents and Aaliyah again.”
“No,” he looked confused with furrowed eyebrows, “I mean, yes, but I’m not homesick for Pickering. I think I’m just missing you more than usual.”
Shawn felt like jumping around and squeezing Maia, so she’d squeal in shock, but he settled for kissing the crown of her head and holding her hip that much tighter.
“I’m right here.”
She hummed, her lips pressed into his chest, feeling the thump of his heart. He was so close, acting like Maia’s favorite Shawn. Just holding her.
“Is that why you were upset? Last night?”
Maia nodded, deciding that was close enough to the feeling of her heartbreak. She’d excuse her love for the boy on multiple occasions by choosing to believe she just missed him, as any best friend should. And maybe a bit more.
“M,” Shawn waited for her eyes to lock on his, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Papillon.”
And for once he actually believed she could be his Maia. Not his best friend. Not the girl he loved since he was seventeen when he admitted his feelings, drunk. Not the Maia he adored from a distance. His Maia.
“C’mon, up we go,” she’s pulling at his hands, “it’s Sunday, so we can head to the farmer’s market. I’ll make that raspberry jam you like to put on the bagels I brought from Montreal. It’s time to explore, eh?”
Shawn’s perfect morning is ruined just like that. It’s a wave that hits him, pulling him underwater the rips too strong. He knew she wasn’t his — his Maia. He sat up letting the covers fall from his stunning physique that Maia tried to not ogle at before turning and sashaying her way into his kitchen.
This was their reality. Walking around the market, pinkies brushing each other, her eyes searching his profile covered by those stupid Tom Ford sunglasses. They couldn’t hold hands and they definitely couldn’t kiss. They just stood side by side, longing for something they feared they’d never get. Reality sucked.
flsm taglist: @oyesmendes @someinsanefangirl
permanent taglist: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela
made by ellie @bubbashawn
hope this helps @curlsofshawn and anyone else wondering 💕
fine line
oc by ellie @bubbashawn
I’m thinking Maia. Thoughts?
Bruh bruh bruh I’m shaking send help
made by ellie @bubbashawn
Okay, so for fine line do I go au or non-au? And further which au if it is? Also #flsm is the hashtag so if you use that and I’ll probably wind up seeing that :) let me know💛💛
AU v. Non-AU
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