#bastille fluff

(I’m currently on holiday, so sorry for the delay in uploading requested pieces! This is a combination of one and another I believe, someone wanted something super fluffy and I hope this is it? Also, because it is dans birthday I had to do something sweet for it. Hap bday you old man.)

- dans pov -

She was smiling brightly, sat in the passenger seat singing her heart out as I drove down. Half way we swapped, she drove as I slept soundly. When we stopped for some fresh air she showed me the photo of me sleeping, all squished in the corner of the car. My face was dented into the window, my nose bent downwards and mouth ajar. She joked I was drooling, and could see the mark on the window.

As we got nearer she nudged me, speaking with nothing but excitement in her voice as mine was laced with apprehension. I saw her smile grow, the light in her eyes shine like the rising sun before us as it lined the sea that we neared.

“I cant remember the last time I was by the ocean, by some kind of beach even.” She sighs, I can see her shoulders relax. That longing look I noticed when we first met, a sense of feeling at peace. “When was the last time you were in Cornwall?”

I leaned back into the seat, the worn leather not being as padded as it once was. My eyes remained locked with the view that wizzed past, the blur of earthy tones that seemed unknown to us. I’d been so used to the city life, the bright lights that never fade, the noise and all the energy that swarms wherever you go.

But here, here it was quiet. I could hear her breathing. Usually all I could hear is the rush of the city, cars going by, beeping in irritation or those yelling for the fun of it.

“Probably for some festival.” I shrug my shoulders, barely able to keep count.

She shakes her head, “Not like that.” I chuckle as she checks the map on her phone, seeing we’re only a few minutes away. “When was the last time you were here for you? Not the band.”

This takes more consideration, and I can’t help but sigh. “I honestly can’t remember. Most places we go are for the band, never really for just me or any of the other guys.”

“Well, that is about to change.” Her smile becomes wider as we pull in to a small little beach house.

It is quaint, sat right on the beach. She eagerly gets out, barely parking straight or taking the scenery in.

I watch as she squeals, running with her sunglasses on her head as they barely staying on her head. Her legs fly in the air as she jumps down onto the sand, heading straight to the surprisingly bright sea.

My heart flutters watching her, and my smile grows at the sight of her being so happy. She stops just before she reaches the sea. With her back to me I get out of the car, walking the short distance towards her.

“I can’t think of the last time I’ve been to a place this quiet, this serene.” I wrap my arms around her waist, and she leans back into me. I can smell the sweetness of her perfume, the fresh scent of her shampoo and the warmth that radiates from her.

All I can think about is how much I care for her, but I’m scared it’s too soon.

If I tell her now, here will she run off? Is it all too soon to say that I think I’ve finally realised she is what I’ve been searching for?

The only image that runs through my mind is her face if I tell her, the fear of how she’ll respond. Not knowing where to go since we drove here together, hundreds of miles from London.

Instead, I remain silent. We take in the scenery before going inside our little home for the next two days.

*

Outside the sky has turned dark. The breeze has died down and the waves aren’t crashing as vigorously.

“You almost ready?” I call out as I sit in the small living room, overlooking the beach covered in darkness.

Behind me I hear the door close, and I slip off my glasses placing them down on the coffee table. “Happy birthday.”

Turning around she stands holding a cupcake with a single candle. She smiles softly, smaller than usual as I read the need for reliance in her eyes. “How’d you know?” My mind begins to race, thinking back to our first date when we discussed life, all the things we wanted to do, ambitions, conspiracies and family. But I don’t remember birthdays coming up so soon.

She chuckles softly, “Your parents told me. They suggested we come down here after I told them about this little spot on the beach my grandparents always took us to when I was 4.”

I watch as she moves closer and sits down next to me. She’s barely lit by the candle and the eco friendly lamps that are insufficient sources of light. But regardless she looks beautiful, her bright smile and the flicker of excitement from the candle glows in her eyes.

With her free hand she tucks back the loose strands of hair behind her ear and moves the cupcake closer to me. “Well?”

Leaning closer to her I close my eyes, and blow out the candle.

A small smoke trail flies up, and she leans against the arm rest of the sofa. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I wished for?” I spoke up, mentally deciding it is time to ask. No backing down.

She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow to me. “Why would I? It won’t come true you dummy.” Her laugh is quiet, but I can barely focus on it. My eyes zone in onto the cupcake, the blown out candle.

I’ve made my wish, I can’t take it back. The candle is blown out. I have to tell her.

“I think I might be in love with you.” I state as I stare into the cupcake, her feet resting on the coffee table next to it. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, her feet drop.

I watch as she brings them closer to her, resting them underneath the other and shuffling on the spot. “You think you might be?” She questions with an unreadable expression on her face.

My palms begin to go clammy, my brain abandons ship and my heart starts to put up the self defence mode. “Maybe not my best phrasing.” I try to joke, but my mouth is too dry to speak.

She remains silent, unsure what to say or do. I know what I want to do, but I just can’t get the words to coherently form from my mind to my mouth. In my mind I can see it playing out smoothly. I’ll say what I want to say, and she’ll be happy.

But, I’m not that smooth talking guy. She didn’t meet that guy, she met me.

“Sometimes my words don’t always work out as I want them to.” I pace myself this time, knowing it is what she’d want. “I, I know how I feel. But I’m terrified of your response.”

My eyes flicker up to hers, and they’ve softened. She reaches her hand and rests it against my thigh.

“I know how I feel. And I do love you. God, I can’t begin to explain how much I love you.” I laugh to myself, unable to stop the words pouring out of my mouth now. “Part of me pondered, whether this is real or just my mind playing tricks. But seeing you here, planning my birthday to be lowkey, just us has made me realise it’s true.” She shuffles closer, moving the decorative cushions between us as she throws them to the ground.

Her hand moves from my thigh, and rests around the back of my neck. “I love you. And, and I should’ve told you sooner. I just-“

She chuckles softly. “You don’t need to be worried, Dan.” I ease into her arm behind my head, watching her lips move but not really taking in the words that are being formed. “I’ve been wanting to tell you how I feel for weeks, but no time felt like the right time.” She plays with her hair, distracting her shaking hands.

“You, you feel the same?” I ask, and she just stares blankly at me.

“Am I going to have to spell it out for you?” She laughs, and pulls her arm from behind my neck.

No more is said between us. She moves closer, sitting on my lap and curls up into me. I can feel her breathing softly, comfortably.

another post, woah. I won’t make this long, but I just want to say that it’ll get better. if you’re struggling- please, please please tell someone in your life. if you’re looking for an escape and see this as one, I will write enough to keep you occupied. I know I sought out peoples work as a distraction. take care of yourself please. you’re worth more than you feel. 

collection of writing // requests are yours to ask for

Huffing I flicked the strands of hair that clung to my forehead back as I felt the sweat dripping down my back. “Okay, you’ve got this.” I told myself as I stood in front of the glass doors, everyone clearly seeing me prepping myself for whatever I’ve gotten myself into.

I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to do this. I knew it was too soon. I knew I’d be comfier in bed, pretending to be sleeping to avoid my friends’ question.

Yet, here I am. Wearing nice clothing for the first time since the breakup. 

‘It’s been long enough, babes.’ 

‘You’re fit, go out there and show him what he’s been missing.’ 

‘He’s a really sweet guy, just don’t be too late okay?’ 

And here I am, thirty minutes late. I wonder if I’ve scared him off. Part of me wishes I have just so I can go home and pretend to mind about the whole thing. But, my feet overpower my heart, and my hand reaches for the door handle, pulling it forcefully until a gentle breeze replaces the stuffy outdoors. 

“Hello, Madam. May I take your-?” He tries to search for something worth taking for safe keeping. Part of me wants to joke and ask if he can take my heart for my own sake, but I know now isn’t the time nor place- considering I’m here for a blind date. 

“I’m here for a date, is there somewhere I can go whilst I wait?” Politeness overtakes the usual sarcasm and ill humour tone. 

The waiter smiles widely and claps his hands together. “This way sweetie!” His tone changes in an instant, and I feel compelled to smile as brightly as he is. He pulls back a chair at the bar for me, and I thank him. “If you need me,” Turning my head to see him perched by the bar next to me I try to keep up this smile, but feel it dragging downwards as his eyes peer into mine screaming for a tip. “I’ll be by the door.” His hands squeeze my shoulders and they squirm under his grip. “Have fun!” 

Immediately I call a bartender over, “Something strong? A cocktail of sorts. Whatever you recommend.” She raises her eyebrow to me and simply nods, walking away with my vague requests. 

Pulling my phone out I see several messages from friends, particularly from Kyle, a childhood friend who suggested this date in the first place. 

‘You met him yet? Ain’t he nice!’ 

‘I’m assuming you’re getting on well. He likes my description of you anyway.’ 

‘Told him you were self-deprecating, imaginative and loved to travel. Suited him just fine.’ 

‘stop looking at your phone! CHAT for FUCKS SAKE.’ 

With that, I locked my phone, and my eyes were met with a tall dark drink. “We call it the dark and handsome. After what every girl describes her ideal man to be.” I can’t help but laugh. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t relate. But dark and handsome does taste delicious.” Sipping the drink I can see her try to hide her smile. “The drink! The drink!” I exclaim, and she simply laughs it off. 

“I’ll have whatever she’s having. Looks pretty good. The drink too.” Cringing internally I saw someone along the other end of the bar. He lifted his whiskey glass up, and I saw the grey hairs that furrowed above his wrinkly eyes rise. 

A tap on the back of my chair made me turn suddenly, and someone sat down next to me. Before I had the chance to respond, he hugged me and whispered, “He’s a creep, been prowling after girls all night. Just go with this, yeah?” I couldn’t speak. I merely nodded and silently thanked him, hoping he was telepathic. 

As he released me from his gentle arms I was surprised by who I was met with. A sweet face, wild hair, kind eyes, and a goofy smile. Immediately I relaxed, “Hi. And thank you, I mean I’m meant to be here for a date but I don’t think he’s going to show.” 

He scoffed loudly, “What a dick. I don’t get why people stand others up after making plans. Takes time to get ready and all, times valuable.” I nodded in agreement. “I mean, I think I’ve been stood up too if I’m honest. Here’s me being too eager. I got here, maybe it put her off.” He sighs quietly, and I glance around hoping to find a girl sat alone that is here for him. 

“If it’s any consolation, I am very late. Some girls are just awful at timing. If they agree for 8, she means 9.” I joke, and I can see the tension ease from his shoulders as his slouch becomes taller, his glass relaxing in his grip. “What’s her name, the girl who you’re meeting?” 

He takes a long harsh sip at his drink, “Sierra.” The glass harshly hits the wooden table top, splashing and sticking to the top like many over drinks over the years. “Who were you meeting?” 

Internally I freeze, unsure what to say. I don’t want a stranger knowing I’ve been stood up on a blind date, that is the lowest of all lows. “His name’s Harry. But, I’m sure he hasn’t thought twice about it.” Mentally I’m screaming. Of all the names that exist I opt for my ex. “Bit of a dick really. Don’t know why I made the effort.” Taking a few gulps of the juice like cocktail I feel his hand on my glass.

“You might wanna take that easy. Those hit you too quickly. Take it from me. I’ve fallen off a skateboard into a bush drinking too many of those.” Laughing at his remark I’m unsure if he’s telling the truth, or if he’s just trying to make me smile. “I’m Dan, I mean you might as well know since we’re going to be going across the street to the dessert place.” 

“We are now?” I raise an eyebrow. “What if Sierra turns up?”

“What if Harry turns up?” He comments back, and I pause for a moment. 

Taking a few sips until my glass is merely filled with ice I rise to my feet, only being as tall as his hair whilst he remains seated. “I’ll be right back.” He half waves as I stumble to the loos and ring Kyle for moral support, moral and guy support. 

“Kyle, answer me right now.” I whisper/yell into my phone as the rings continue to bore into my ears as I pace the length of these three stalls. 

A long sigh sounds down the line, “Why are you phoning me? Thought you two would’ve hit it off.” He sounds like an irritated child, but I shake my head feeling that drink start to hit me. 

“He didn’t show up. Met someone else, super sweet. Should I go for it?” A long pause is never a good sign, “I haven’t felt this positive about a guy in months. With Harry, I lost ALL trust. Shouldn’t I have fun? Tell your friend I got sick and couldn’t go. Just, something.” 

He sighs once again. “This isn’t right, you know that don’t you?” I can picture him now, stroking his beard consoling himself as he prepares to message his mate. “Just, if you ever meet him, don’t let him know this happened.” 

“Deal. Speak later. Love you.” I drag out my words unintentionally, my feet feel lighter than before. 

“Shit, you better eat. At least this guy will buy you a meal right?” Nodding in response I can hear him laugh my name down the line. “I can’t see you nod. But be careful, bye.” 

Leaning against the sink I look myself dead in the eyes. I wipe away the mascara residue from under my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk myself out to Dan. Who I am sure is better than my blind date could ever be. 

“Can we please leave this restaurant now? I want a waffle.” I mumble into him as I lean against his shoulder. 

His laugh fills my ears, and I feel my stomach churn. “You’re cute when you’re tipsy. Not that you aren’t cute already.” He stumbles over his words, and places enough money to cover our drinks and walks me out of the restaurant. 

*

I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed so much on a date, an unplanned date at least. Taking the last few bites of my waffle Dan leans back into the sofa, clearly full as he blows his cheeks out. I lean over to burst them, and he makes a bizarre noise in response. 

“If you’re not finishing it, then I happily will.” I mumble as I eat the last few bits of waffle, leaving the plate nice and clear. “Thanks for this Dan.” Swallowing I lean back, wishing I’d worn looser fitting jeans. 

“Honestly, this was a lot more fun of an evening than I thought it’d be. I was told I’d meet a nice girl, but I didn’t expect to meet someone on such a similar wavelength as you.” Smiling sincerely I don’t feel the need to fake it, hide my smile. “Plus, you have a beautiful smile.” 

After making that comment he buries his hands int his hair, hiding from me across the table. “If it helps,” I begin and he lifts his head back up. His wild array of hair pointing in all directions as his bright eyes focus on me. “you’re very handsome too.” Giggling into my seat I feel my cheeks prickle with heat. 

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” He leans across the table, his hand hanging in front of me. “Wanna go?” 

Rubbing my lips together I can feel him watching closely. “Yeah, can we go to the beach?” 

*

Holding my shoes in one hand and his in the other it feels normal, it doesn’t feel bizarre or uncomfortable. He’s relaxing into me, and I am into him. My head resting on his shoulder as the waves crash in the background, unclear in the dusky skies. 

We pause and sit down against the damp sand. He sits first and pats the spot next to him, but as I go to sit I collapse into him. Now sitting on his lap, my arms around his neck and his around my waist it feels comfortable. He looks happy, relaxed. 

“Can we take a photo? I want to prove to my friend you’re not a Harry.” He smiles and I lean back into him, pulling my phone out and as I see our faces on the screen I see his hand rising to my cheek. 

As I hit the button his lips are on mine. 

My phone calls into the sand as I turn around, fully facing him and letting myself have this moment with him, only him and no one else. 

Unbeknownst to me, Kyle received my photo. I didn’t know at the time as I and Dan lay in the sand, kissing under the stars that he was, in fact, my blind date. 

was requested: a piece based on campus. gave it a go, hope you enjoy. 

collection of writing / part two

Lifting the folders further up in my arms I struggle for breath. My lungs are being compressed by the weight of the work I completed at 5am this morning and all I want to do is drop it, burn it or let it float off. None of it feels like it’s worth being praised and instead, I look around as I wait in front of the metal doors and think about everyone I see each passing day. 

There are those who seem too relaxed at 9am. They wear an uneasy state of bliss in their eyes as they chew their lips or clutch their jaws shut. I see those who have too much work piled in front of them in the library and all they do is stare at it, hoping it would vanish in front of them or do the work itself.

Similarly, there are those like me. The type who are just trying to survive, keep on top and prove their worth to study and can make something of themselves. The door bings and the metal slide either side,  leaving me to face my own reflection, well my forehead that is. I step in and hear the springs cry in pain at the additional weight of my folders as I reach to press eight. The doors close and the whirring is a comfort, but that peace is short-lived. 

“Third floor.” The automatic voice that is far from the softness a human offered chimed in as the doors opened and I could barely see who it was, only their shoes. 

As I heard them sigh my lungs collapsed into themselves knowing what was to come as we rose, trapped in each others company for a mere two minutes. “So, all that work?” I tried to ignore the slight arrogance that was always in his tone, I mentally threw my work in his face and left him there as the doors shut and a single piece of paper flew out with me and resigned at my feet. 

But that didn’t happen, instead I remained hidden. That was until a weight lifted from my eyes, and instead of a black folder, I was greeted with his blue eyes that were often too misleading, too nice for someone such as him. “I’m not in the mood today, Dan.” I remark as the floor numbers roll too slowly, we’re only on the fifth floor. 

“Why’s that? Left everything too late? Stressed?” He kept throwing words I’d used or heard too often in the past two weeks. My parents, my friends, my flatmates and other students all talking about their deadlines and exams that were coming too quickly for them to keep on top of it all. I didn’t need to respond, the growing purple marks beneath my eyes and the sleep that hung heavy above my eyes spoke on my behalf. 

Sixth floor. “Do you always have to be so,” My brain was shuffling through endless sheets of blank paper for a response, but nothing would compute. 

“Philosophical?” He raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to snap back. Yet I stayed quiet. “You are just another brain here, another walking cash machine to them.” Leaning against the railing he watched the numbers rise, avoiding my gaze. “I’m just more aware of it, I know I’m another man on the field to them. I don’t matter, all that matters is the cycle that endlessly repeats itself. Students come and go. End of story.” All his words sounded too impressive as if he’s too aware of his own intelligence. Or, more his ability to understand the system like the rest of us, but in his eyes, that means he’s better for knowing he’s nothing but another person. He’s not unique, and that’s what makes him special. 

I stay quiet, my brain not picking a response as it has shut down. I’m in total darkness mentally and as the door pings, I walk out without saying another word. “See you later, number-” The doors closed just in time. Heavily I drag my feet through the doors to my front door and pull out my key. 

As I enter my room the door creaks behind me, and I collapse into bed and discard my papers and folders to the floor next to me. I close my eyes and all I see is him, the gaze of integrity and arrogance that leaves my stomach unsettled. “What does he know anyway? Say a few statements whilst looking off into the unknown of a lift and think everyone will fall to his feet?” Scoffing lightly down the phone my friend yawns loudly, she is in a similar boat to my own. “I’m sorry, he just.” My free hand balls into a fist, partially unsure how to express my feelings towards him. “He’s infuriating.”

She laughs to herself, chuckling away at my prolonged silence. “For someone who seemingly infuriates you, you sure talk about him an awful lot babes.” I sit upright, the sleep that was thick in my mind has vanished. 

“No.” I shake my head as if she could see me, “No I don’t. He mocks me constantly, how is that attractive? He is so far up his own arse to notice anyone else or have feelings.” I’d cross my arms if I could and have a tantrum like a child, but no one is here to witness it. 

A sigh follows down the line. “Listen,” Her tone has quickly changed, shes more assertive now. “did you manage to get it all done though? Work wise.” Changing the topic calmed my heart rate down. 

“Yes. Yeah, everything's been done. I finished it a few hours ago.” A draining yawn escaped my lips. “Everyone is the same. Literally, every person I’ve passed has had piles of paper in their arms or bags that are fitting for a camping trip-” Stopping myself I think back to less than ten minutes ago. 

Unlike every other person, he was perfectly calm and collected. No papers piled high before his eyes. I doubt he would’ve had it done so far in advance? My name is repeated until I zone back into the conversation. “I’ll call you back later,” I hang up and let my phone sit in front of my lap for a moment as I contemplate it. 

Whenever I see him in the library he focuses more so on judging everyone rather than working. I’ve never seen him take a book out, nor study for that matter anywhere. I see him on social media watching films or writing in his free time, not working or studying like the rest of us. “What’re you up to Dan?” I mutter to myself as I run my fingers through my knotted hair. 

*

Placing my card on the scanner I turn to walk through the gate, into the open space and head to the computer area. Sitting down I take out my earphones and search the area, and if by luck hovering by the printers he stands facing everyone. 

Even with glasses on I’m not fooled of his intelligence. I walk over to him, leaning against the printer until he turns to face me. “How’re you doing Dan? Stress settling in at all yet?” I ask as everyone around us remains silent, each focusing on the screens and occasionally wandering around for various books. 

He keeps a straight face and shakes his head in response. “Nope. I feel perfectly calm about it all. Why sink to the level they expect me to?” I couldn’t stop my eyes rolling into the back of my head. 

“Must be easy to keep calm though, considering all of those people who are writing or ‘helping’ your dissertation, right?” I struck a nerve as he stood upright, no longer relaxing against the printers. He crossed his arms, and unlike before avoiding my gaze.

He didn’t say anything as his jaw remained clenched, I watched as his blue eyes darted around the space we were in. “You have no idea.” Muttering under his breath he quickly walked off, pulling his glasses off of his eyes and shoved them forcefully into his pocket. 

After he disappeared out of sight I went back to my computer and began to write the next thousand words. 

*

Unaware of the sun setting and night emerging I continue to type, fighting the tiredness that wracks my body. My fingertips hitting the keys becomes more urgent as I have less than one hundred words left until I’ve finished the next section, and consequently three less books to take back with me. 

Sighing I read through my last paragraph, hitting save as I read and change. A few people walk by, clearly happy with where they are for the night whereas I along with a few other devoted third years continue, even if it is almost morning again. 

Unable to stop my eyes closing and I go to hit save the screen goes blank. My mind snaps into action as I hit any and all keys to get my work from today back up, the part that required the most research. Yet nothing works. I’ve lost it. 

My eyes become too watery and I stand up, heaving the bag of books and drafts with me and head out of the library. As I walk I spot those still working, all eyes locked on screens refusing to acknowledge anyone going by. I scan out of the library and pause, allowing myself to cry silently. “Hey, you alright?” A voice interrupts and I straighten up, wiping my face as I turn to see Dan. 

I go back to how I was, wiping my face and not caring as it’s only him. “Oh, me? I’m doing swell.” Sarcasm drowns my voice, I laugh lightly as he keeps a safe distance as if crying is contagious. 

“Come on.” He walks up to me and takes my bag of books, carrying them in his arms. I stand still, unsure of a kind action. Usually, he’d have some comment to retaliate with or make a statement about how society and the pressures of education have caused this. Or perhaps how if I were a man I’d have to keep my tears inside, as it is not yet acceptable. Something, anything like that, but not this. 

We walk in silence to the block of flats that are ridden with students. A few months ago it would’ve been so different here, music would play and drown out each and every floor like it were a competition of sound and vibrations. No one would be silent until at least 5 in the morning as everyone was living, being free. But now, now it is silent too often. Everyone keeps to themselves as we are all in the same boat, living through the Titanic and scrounging for lifeboats. 

Stepping into the lift it creaks and whines as always. The metal doors close, trapping us and I sigh loudly, prompting him to speak up. “You know,” I glanced up at him, seeing him in such unflattering lighting eased the pain slightly. “at 4 they turn the computers off, restart them. Just part of their routine.” 

I can’t help but sniff loudly, “Guessing your writers told you that?” I remark, not wanting to admit what he already knows. He doesn’t respond as the doors open to the eighth floor and he follows me as I let myself in. 

The corridor remains silent as I go through to the kitchen, ignoring his presence and putting the kettle on before collapsing into a chair and resting my head on the table. Light movement surrounds me and the scrapping of a chair and a hand in between my shoulder blades is unnerving. 

“I only talk like that because I’m terrified of failure.” His hand remains still as I sit upright, black settling under my eyes only adding to the purple that has been marked since we started three years ago. “I’m working from the moment I wake up until I fall asleep. Everyone who is rumoured to write for me is simply checking if it’s average or above if I’m lucky enough.” 

Looking at him now with his glasses off I can see his exhaustion. The rim of them hiding the matching darkness that has embedded itself on his face, how in his blue eyes they don’t shine with passion or for justice against being just another brain here. Instead, they’re defeated. 

“Then why make everyone else feel like they’re less worthy? Or that you’re better than the rest of us?” His hand begins to slip from its spot on my back and settles on his own knee. 

“In the first year I was myself, and no one liked that. They thought me, being myself was weird. That my love of music but being too nervous to perform wasn’t right for me, not my niche. So I went down a different, more douchy posh lad route and it stuck. Sometimes I play my keyboard in my room and wonder what it’d be like if it were all different.” I fully sit upright, facing him. 

A new found sense of fascination entices me with him now. “But, why are you telling me all of this?” Curiosity laces my words, and he simply smiles. 

“Tonight you are at your lowest. I can see how tired you are, and stressed out about your lost work.” His hand reaches over and pats my knee lightly before walking over to the kettle and making a cup of tea. “I’ve lived in that state for a long time when everything just falls apart and no one offers to pick up the pieces you leave as a trail.” 

I watch as he opens various cupboards, “Top left.” I pipe in, and he nods. 

“What I’m saying is, oh sugar?” I shake my head and he squeezes the tea bags, dumping them in the bin and presents a warm mug of nearly black tea before me. “I’m saying I can help in some ways. And that I want to. I went through it alone, no one helped me but I want to help you through it.” He smiles wholeheartedly, fiddling with his glasses in his hands. 

“Thank you, Dan.” A smile forms on my face, though defeated for now I want to get better. “For helping me as it falls apart.” 

The two of us sit, chatting about the stress for a while as the sun rises outside. Warmth slowly catches our ankles and illuminates the dust that floats to the floor. The dark tea stains the mugs and turns bitterly cold as we talk, neither pausing until the warmth reaches our eyes, blinding us. 

“I better go. When did it get light?” He asks, chuckling for a second before going quiet, unsure what to say. 

I shake my head, partly not wanting him to go. “What’re you doing later?” The first thing that comes to mind. “I mean, if you’re busy I-”

“Nothing.” He quickly states. An eager expression lining his eyes. “Are you, you doing anything?” When I shake my head his smile only grows and he slips his glasses back on. “Well, I could come by this evening, offer a better cup of tea?” He jokes half-heartedly. 

this is rooted from my own feelings this year about my birthday. being at uni it is extremely different, and though it is later this week I’m not up for celebrating. except this is a lot sweeter, but that is just a bit of context.  

collection of writing / part two

My phone lit up as the numbers changed, the four numbers were replaced by zeroes and the messages began to flood my lock screen. I turned my phone to face down, the light peaked through the sides and I simply rolled over onto my other side. 

Shutting my eyes I wished he was here to curl into, but instead I’m presented with a dull wall and a cool breeze from my noisy fan. With my eyes shut I try to think about what to do with my day, how to occupy myself from the pressing thought that lines family and friends minds for the day. 

Glancing around, I can’t help but feel a heaviness in my chest- maybe it’s just the effects of ageing. Sitting up I take my phone with me, not acknowledging the stream of messages, notifications and photos posted. All I try to find is a message, a tweet or something from him, a sign he might be around today. Yet, there’s nothing. I sigh loudly into the silence of my home as I fill the kettle up and contemplate what could be done today. 

Outside, rain lines the windows. They angrily decorate the glass, and I see people clutch onto their umbrellas with all their might outside. I mentally cross out going outside from things I could do. Part of me wanted to go to the harbour, have a hot drink to warm me up and just relax in the fresh air, but with the weather as it is, that is far from pleasant. 

I walk around from room to room, thinking of how the rooms could’ve been full of life today. But instead, it is just me in one of his tops wandering from a prolonged silence to coldness. Ghosts of company haunt my memory as I brush my fingers along the blue sofas, I think of 365 days ago and how much it differs now. 

If only they could’ve afforded to see me, or I visit them. What if my friends didn’t have such full on hectic lives, some parents and others throwing themselves into their degrees like myself. Once so closely knit all spread across the country, some in other countries, building better lives. 

Then there’s him. He’s here, there and everywhere. I didn’t expect him to be able to be here for today, I warned him that this year is nothing special and I’d rather leave it be. No one is here to celebrate with me, no one can witness me blowing out the candles unless through a screen where they can't smell the smoke, taste the sweet sponge and sickly icing. Instead, the calls will end and the temporary company will fade away and all I’ll be left with is that ghostly presence behind me. The vacant hands that’ll circle around my waist and the lips that should’ve kissed mine as they mutter the usual sweet words. Hearing the kettle rumble I pick myself up, keeping distracted from the pinging of my phone that’ll fade within the next few hours. 

*

Sitting on the window seat I sip my tea, taking steady breaths as the radio plays faintly behind me. It feels as relaxing as it could possibly be. The room feels bare without any banners, I decorated the shelves with various cards that brighten the white walls up, but his voice is missing. He would announce himself in each room, sing around the house thinking I couldn’t hear him as he put his all into it. The mornings when he’d sing anything that came to mind whilst I made breakfast were the perfect mornings. 

My phone lights up at my feet, and I pick it up. A smile forms on my face as I place my tea down, unlocking my phone to reply. One quick reply results in the screen to change, his name and a daft photo fills my screen. He took that photo when we were decorating, his face was covered in sunflower yellow paint and he took my phone and took a photo zoomed too far in. Even when he isn’t here, he never fails to make me laugh. 

“Hey.” I speak up, not wanting to ask where he is as with each place my heart drops further. 

Before he speaks I can hear traffic around him, the sound of raindrops hitting an umbrella. “Well, what day is it today?” I roll my eyes, knowing he’s smiling to himself waiting for the response. 

“It’s Tuesday.” I state, not wanting to give in to his games. 

He sighs down the line, “And what does that mean?” I can’t ignore the happiness in his voice, if only I felt in such a manner about today. 

“Dan, I-” Before I have the chance to explain the doorbell rings, and part of me hopes that on the other side of the door it’ll be him. That he’ll be holding balloons and have a flattened fringe from the rain and a big smile on his face. “Someone’s at the door, hold on.” He goes quiet, but I can hear him moving. 

Taking a deep breath I grip the door handle and take my phone away from my ear. As I open it I wear a bright smile, but once I see a stranger, holding a clipboard I feel my hope shatter. “Hey, sign here.” I do as he asks, and he passes me a large box before walking away back to the red van. 

I pick up the box with some difficulty, forgetting I left him on the line. Placing him on speaker phone I drag the box to the kitchen and with a grunt lift it onto the counter. “Who was that?” He asks with curiosity. 

“My secret lover.” I joke and he chuckles down the line. “It was the postman, but I didn't remember ordering anything this big anyway.” Putting my phone on the counter I search the draws for a knife to cut into the box. Moving back to the box Dan remains oddly quiet, “You still there?” I enquire. 

A small noise is head, but not a verbal response. “What was in the box?” 

“Haven’t opened it yet. Maybe it’s from my family.” I try to shake the box and whatever is inside sounds sturdy. “Okay, well I found a knife.” Moving around the counter I have my back to everything, I kneel on a chair to get some height on the box and stab into it, slicing lengthways across the duct tape. 

As I force it open nothing jumps out, which calms me down. “Got it open?” He asks and I remain quiet as I reach into it. 

“Just trying to get whatever is inside.” Grabbing onto something soft I pull out a plush teddy bear with a little bowtie on, looking rather dapper. On his foot stitched into it is my name and today's date. “It’s a bear. Just like the one I had when I was a child.” I explain, unable to stop the small smile forming as my mind wanders to the old bear I had that my Grandparents gifted me for my second birthday. ”That bear went everywhere with me, every holiday, every cry, heartbreak, death, happy moment and film.” 

“What happened to the bear?” He asks softly and I can’t help but sniff loudly, shaking my head to myself, wishing he was here to hug me. 

“Erm, I’m not sure. He just sort of disappeared. By the time I realised I outgrew teddies.” Holding the teddy close to my chest I refuse to let this one go, “I’m just going to see if there’s a note or something.” Standing on the chair I look into the box to see another box inside. 

Lifting it up it is neatly wrapped in tissue paper, it russles as I tear it off. “Found some kind of note? I bet it was your Mum.” 

“Probably, seems like something she’d do.” With the tissue paper disgarded I’m left with a hardback copy of my favourite book, one I have loved for years. “It’s my favourite book.” Opening it, a small note falls face down. I pick it up and quickly scan to find the name, and when I do I allow myself to tentatively read over it. 

Though everyone is away, and it feels as if you’re alone, know you aren’t. I love you with all my heart, everyone does. We all care about you even if it’s a text or a quick call. You told me about that beloved bear, you read that book whilst we sat on planes, in airports, before bed and back in uni. There should be one more thing in the box if it’s arrived properly. Happy birthday, love. Dan x 

“Dan, I, I” Words struggle to fathom in my mind as I rub my lips together, tightly holding the bear in my arms. 

He sweetly chuckles. “You deserve something meaningful on your birthday, even if you’re on your own.” I laugh as I wipe my eyes. “Find that other thing yet?”

Reaching down I pick up an envelope and inside is a USB. “A USB? I mean I know I should really use one, but any reason why?” I ask and he sighs.

“Just get your laptop and play it. When you’ve seen it all, call me back yeah?” He asks and I take my phone off of speaker and place it next to my ear. 

Walking up the stairs I grab my laptop, opening it up and the screen turns on. I fiddle with the USB nervously, wondering what it contains. “Okay, thank you, Dan. I love you.” 

“I love you too, enjoy.” 

With that, he hangs up, and I put the USB in and open up the file. It’s a video. 

quite proud of this one, I hope you like it. if you have any request then do sent it in! 

collection of writing

Watching the water fill the sink I fill it with bubbles until it is close to overflowing. I ignore the dull conversation that lines my radio as I switch the kettle on and check the cookies, hoping they’ll soon silence the grumbling of my stomach. Placing various dishes in the sink I lean against the counter and my ears perked up at the song being played on the radio. I was hesitant to what I was hearing, whether or not this was it or merely my mind playing tricks on me for that sense of longing of what once was. 

I couldn’t help myself. Leaning over I turned the volume up louder than a faint whisper and it struck my ears, the sound waves travelling into my mind and struck the right chords to remind me of what once. I could picture it all clearly, every memory of our upbringing, the time when everything was meant to make sense yet we didn’t grasp it. We were young adults with child like minds where curiosity soared. 

An involuntary smile began to form on my face as I heard the words I only knew from his bedroom, never leaving those four walls as the music bounced back and forth. Those were the forgotten months, the times we spent nearly every day together yet they were almost wiped from my memory until now. Until the moment his powerful voice that has become more powerful with time hummed through my beaten radio. 

The two of us were so naive to life, to what was out there in front of us whilst we sat in his room. When I’d ask to hear him play something without fail I had to sit with my back facing him, yet he never thought about the mirror I was in front of. It was small, a circular mirror that hung on his wall above his bed. Why he placed it there of all places wasn’t something I ever asked, but I could see him perform without him knowing. He was able to perform in a bubble, in the silence where the judgement was closed off from him as his fingers glided across the keys. 

In those moments I could observe the life he threw into every note, into each lyric that only built up as he would reach a chorus. When he’d finish I had to try and hide the smile that refused to sink as I knew he was too nervous to listen to me pour my heart out about how I loved his music. Instead, I’d suggest we go somewhere. On the way to the little river by the farm, I would be humming the tune of a song, one of his and he could always tell. He’d wear a small smile as he glanced my way, and my cheeks would burn. 

Touching my left cheek I feel a familiar burn, but this time it’s of absence. I haven’t felt that way in years. The way my cheeks would burn not out of embarrassment, but something indescribable. It was just the way he made me feel, that silent sweetness that loomed between the two us, unspoke of. 

His words fade into the music, and before it finishes the radio presenter interrupts and I zone back in to now. “And that was Bastille, good guys with Oblivion.” A little scoff escapes my lips as the presenter swiftly moves on, their glory moment is over as he plays another track from someone else, less relevant to me. 

I pick up the tea towel as I dry my hands off, unsure what to do as I stare into my garden. The swing set my parents insisted I take, one that is often used. But now it just creaks, it needs oiling much like the one I always used during that time. 

Oblivion. My mind wanders as I watch the empty swing move back and forth. The times when we’d act rebellious as twenty-year-olds and run to the park when it got dark out and all the children had abandoned the place that echoed with ghostly laughter hours prior. We would charge towards the swing set that creaked with every gentle push. He would laugh as I pleaded to go higher and wanted to reach the top. We always had false dreams and aspirations, that naivety to achieving dreams being a potential. Well, for one of us that is. 

We would agree to jump on three, soar through the air. It never happened that way though, I always leapt first whilst he remained hesitant. I would stand in front of him, holding my hand out for him to grab so he’d know he had a safe landing. I watch the swing stop, he is leaping towards me, his hand grasps mine and drags me onto the plastic tarmac. 

The two of us groan at the rough and unexpected landing. His arm is around mine, keeping me down next to him. Our laughter fades as we realise how close we are, but he then sits up whilst I stay down, shutting my eyes. 

Walking away from the sink I run up the stairs, heading straight to my bedroom knowing it’s still here somewhere. If anything survived this move, it’ll be those few things. It may have been six, possibly seven years ago but I knew I had to keep it secure. 

Scrounging through my wardrobes I allow the mess to build up behind me, adding to everything else that I need to organise. “Come on, I know you’re in here,” I complain to myself as I find clothes I never knew I owned. “huh, cute.” Holding up a hoodie I try to think back to where I got it. 

Stains cover the fabric, ones from the past that I don’t remember being responsible for. My mind races to think back, dig deeper into my memory to figure it out. It clicks and I throw it behind me, out of sight, out of mind. I dig further into my wardrobe, searching with more urgency as his lyrics drill into my mind. Not the version that played on the radio, the one I was sung when I turned 21. 

He told me he had gotten me a present unlike any other. I didn’t expect much from him, a broke student making it by performing when he can and doing odd jobs. I was sat on his bed, facing him rather than having my back turned and relying on a small mirror to see the passion that is forced into each verse. 

I watched as he pulled out a torn and creased piece of paper that was covered in scribbles and words front and back. He fidgeted in front of his keyboard, the same one he’d always used. “This is Oblivion.” I watched him close his eyes, take a deep breath before playing for me, only me. 

Reaching behind the draws my fingertips grasp a piece of paper, with caution I bring it out and refuse to let go. I collapse into a sitting position as I analyse the paper, checking it isn’t some forgotten assignment I dragged around with me for pride purposes. But it’s not, this is it. 

Oblivion. Or what was Oblivion. 

Sitting still I read the words, thinking about all that once was as it floods back. The summer of curiosity, of a possibility of us that never happened. His guard that remained too high and only sunk when he was ready for it too, but I wasn’t. I was due to leave, travel the world for a year or potentially longer. 

I glance behind me, under the bed where I threw the hoodie. Reaching over I grunt as my limbs refuse to stretch that far, but I manage to grab it amongst the mess that lies beneath my mattress. The stains that have formed are a combination of his and mine. He gave it to me as a leaving present, something to wear in the cold depths of night where ever I am in the world so I don’t forget him. 

But I did, I forgot him. I forgot all about my friend who I loved deeply. He wrote me a song, I guided him through adventures. We talked about what we dreamed to achieve, and now he has. Maybe I was the forgotten, the one who got away and that encouraged him to focus on his own dream. 

“Come on slow poke!” Outside I hear laughter erupt. I stand up and near my window, placing my hands on a vacant part of the windowsill. Smiling down I see her long hair shine in the light, her smile radiant as her brother follows after her. The two of them squeal as I watch a much older man run up, picking her up as she laughs. 

I wipe my face, unaware of the fact I was crying. Moving away from the window I prepare my smile, the one that makes everything better, everything but my stitched heart. “Mummy?” Yelling sounds through the house and I shut the bedroom door, a large smile on my face as I rush down the stairs as two pairs of small arms grab onto me. 

“Oh, hello!” Enthusiasm takes over my uneasy tone. I laugh light-heartedly, hoping to disguise the pain I feel internally. “How was school today? I have something baking right now so why don’t you go change and tell me about your days, yeah?” They both nod eagerly and race each other up the stairs.

“Hey, slowly kids! We don’t want an accident.” His laughter sounds more genuine than mine as he walks towards me, arms wrapping around my waist as he kisses me softly. “Hello.” A smile forms on his face as I see happiness line those bright green eyes. 

“Hello, good day?” I ask as I turn away from him, heading back into the kitchen and turn the radio down and return to the dishes. 

this is probably the longest I’ve ever gone without posting something, that is in terms of writing. all I can say without making it an entire essay is that a lot has changed in my life. a lot a lot. writing for myself like this has not happened in months, and those who read my last piece could probably sense it. all of my writing has been channelled into my creative writing degree, and now I’m home for christmas. hence why I’m finally writing these requests. 

i’m not apologising anymore for my absences, but since it’s christmas (my favourite time of year) here is a piece with a combination of two requests. one from at least a month and a half ago, and a preference: “why do you keep pushing me away?” 

merry christmas to all of you, thank you for the support. 

collection of writing

Putting up the final decorations on the tree I step down from the stool I used to reach the top of the tree and admire my work. I sigh at the hard effort I put into it all, wanting this Christmas to be perfect despite what has happened. Reaching down I push the plug into the socket and in the corner of my vision, I see the entire room become illuminated. Smiling at the bright lights that cover the room I step back, imagining his arms around me, telling me how good of a job I’ve done like I always do. 

Except for this time he isn’t here to do that. His arms around me, holding me close are a distant memory, something I’m slowly banishing from my mind whilst the pain remains fresh. They told me to try and hear him out, to listen to what he has to say for himself, but the fans and social media said it all for me. All of their comments were the final nail in the coffin that causes me to pack his bags ready for him when he came back from tour. 

Now in place of all the photos of us, the ornaments we shared together I replaced them all with other memories, with other times I’ve had. I thought it would be easy to erase some of the pain, but like his presence, it lingers. The emotions that were neatly wrapped into little bows like the gifts under the Christmas tree, they refused to be torn apart, not yet at least. 

I walk away from the sight I loved moments ago, the sense of pride having faded into remorse as I continued to ignore my phone as it notified me every minute of a missed call, a message or a response on our break up. It shouldn’t have ended like this, with me kept in the dark for so long. Now he is spending Christmas elsewhere, whilst I head back home to my family instead of sitting alone, wallowing helplessly over him. I refuse to, especially at Christmas. 

*

Christmas Eve, the day of last minute rushing around helplessly. I watch as parents scrounge the shops, picking up anything and everything for someone in the family with no sense of direction as they are blinded by panic. Holding my bags close I hum along to the choir of children that sing hymns as they try to hold back the shivers in their voices. 

Shrugging my coat back up I ignore the buzzing of my phone, another message left by my friends, by his friends. The last one I listened to was the sensible one, wise with words he tried to not aggravate me further, but failed as I deleted the following messages after his first attempt at apologising on his behalf. Now I simply let my voicemail fill accordingly, I thought they’d stop by now as he squats in their homes. All because he was impatient, he couldn’t even wait until he saw me. 

I begin to pick up speed as I near home, bags weigh down my hands as I feel the blood circulation ceasing due to my wrists being slowly strangulated. Turning the corner I watched as cars lined the streets, warm and cool toned lights wrapped around any plant they could find as well as being displayed behind curtains in windows. Smiling to myself I could see the silhouettes of families curled up together, the glow of another Christmas film playing as children watched whilst parents wrapped presents upstairs. This year a few presents will remain unwrapped, the ones I had planned for him to open. I shake off the thought as I mentally plan all the things I still need to do before leaving in the morning. 

Humming a carol to myself I wipe my feet across the rough mat in front of my door before reaching into my pocket and fumbling for my keys until I feel the icy metal against my fingertips. The lock clicks inside of the door and I push it open, dumping the bags as I sigh in relief at the now dull ache that wraps less tightly around my wrists. Walking past the open living room I wave to the figure stood next to the tree without a second thought as I run up the stairs to change into a thicker jumper. 

Halfway up the stairs, I pause realising what I had just seen. My heart begins to pound as my mind clouds with confusion and I turn around, taking each step with caution. As my feet reach the wooden floorboards my head lifts and I turn to face my right, seeing my living room as I left it, except a pile of coal stands before me. Not everyone gets lucky at Christmas after all. 

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, keeping my distance as he fidgets with his hands, trying to distract himself and calm down. Already he’s tense, he knows he is in the wrong being here. We finished it, he was the reason I finished us. He kept his head low, hiding his deceit from me one again. “Well? I know you didn’t break in, you didn’t let yourself in.” Pacing closer towards him he slowly lifts his head, a small guilty smile forming. “Was it Will?” Scoffing to myself I pull my phone from my pocket. “Bet it was the bloody fuc-”

He cuts me off by calling my name, the same defeated tone I used when he told me it was true. That all I had seen online about him, from his friends who tried to deny the claims against him, he told me just as he came home. “Why do you keep pushing me away?” I could hear the heartbreak in his voice, he uses it in his music, in those few songs that remind him of those times in his life that he can’t relive. “All I want is for you to hear me out, you never let me explain.” His bright blue eyes that once enticed me now drown me, I watch as his hands try to take mine, but I pull away. 

Shaking my head I sit down on the sofa, my legs close to my chest to keep him out. “What is there to explain Dan?” I retort and I hear him sigh, “That you slept with some groupie? The photographer even?” Unable to look him in the eyes I focus on the stray ribbons that line my floorboards from the hours of wrapping I’ve done, alone. 

“I made a mistake.” He stated. 

“At least four.” Muttering under my breath he moves closer until his odd socks cover the ribbons, forcing me to look at him as he towers above me. He pushes the strays of brunette from his eyes as he scans mine, hoping to find something other than hatred aimed at him. “Why now?” I question and he moves to sit next to me, keeping a cushion as a barrier between us. 

He reaches his arm up and scratches the back of his neck, a sign he’s uncomfortable. Damn right too, he deserves to feel the awkwardness I endured as I watched him leave and I had fans question day in day out ‘where did Dan go?’ 

“There isn’t even a reason why it happened.” He began to explain, unravelling the depths of his betrayal to me, to his friends and to his fans. “No one took advantage, I didn’t even realise what was happening, that I had given some kind of signals about wanting to, to be with them like that.” I watch as he struggles to form the words, he’s never been one to put on the spot. 

I sit in silence for an hour, listening closely to all he has to say. He tries to reason, but he doesn’t make excuses for what has happened. I can see the regret embedded into the purple bags under his eyes, the pain that lines the blue and how he is drowning in it himself, unable to resurface. 

Outside the sky had turned dark, the evening began to descend upon us. “Thank you,” I mumble to him. Now my legs are crossed, I’m facing him as my hands rest in my lap and my barriers are slowly being lowered, only just. “for being honest about all of this.” His hands reach out towards mine, and this time I simply watch as they hold mine, the warmth that surges through me trickles rather than erupts. 

“Whatever you want, I understand.” A small heartfelt smile forms on his face, he is ready to accept defeat, to face what comes next with his problems. “I’ll always be here for you, I’ll always love you, no matter what.” His voice fades into a whisper into the evening light as the fairy lights around my tree illuminate the room. 

Looking around all I see is cold. The warmth has been drained from my home, a place that used to be ours. Presents lie neatly beneath the tree, but half are vacant, the tree isn’t covered in our decorations that we collected over the past few years. “I miss you,” I admit to him as I shut my eyes, trying to fight my head as my heart takes control. “but I just can’t act like everything is normal, not yet.” Opening my eyes his smile is gone, but all I see is kindness. 

“However long you need, I’ll be here.” He slips his hands out of mine and I try to hide the tears that gloss over my vision. “Merry Christmas.” His lips linger against my forehead, all the emotion I’ve missed pressed back as a reminder. 

Tears spill as I hear him leave, the front door shutting behind him.Faintly I hear Christmas songs play and I sit in the hollow version of my home, a version I can’t take without him anymore. Standing up I rush over to the front door, opening it and ignoring the bitter wind that nips my cheeks and I call out to him, the man who walks with his head low and hands submerged in his pockets. 

He turns around, surprise etching his expression as I run towards him. As I reach him I pause, a small distance between us. “Baby steps?” I suggest and he nods. 

it has been a while, and this is a very late request! sorry for the week long delay, it’s been a lot busier (and tiring) than I had anticipated. if you have no idea what I’m on about check out my instagram (@idiosyncraticcatherine) to see (yes, self promo). 

also I want to say thank you for the support (which I say all the time), but you are all so wonderful and full of kind words along with brilliant ideas- such as this one. I hope you enjoy reading it, despite it being overdue

prompt list / collection of my writing / requests open *nudge nudge*

 ​lots of things happening currently, but I’ve missed writing fluff :( hope you’re all well and happy weekend! 

collection of writing / requests are open 

enjoy x 

Knocking on the door I lowered my fist with hesitation as I kept it clenched in attempt to stop the apparent shakes. As it opened I paused, everything came to a halt at his fragile state. His eyes were heavy with a mix of both colours and emotions. Resigned in the blue was the attempt at Joy, the last bit that remained as sorrow flecked the grey, slowly but surely covering the rest. I couldn’t help but let my eyes roam, his hair was out of sorts, run through too many times from frustration. His attire was too effortless, to the point of laziness. 

The combination was clearer than the azure in his eyes; heartbreak. 

Sighing I walked past him, he didn’t even budge as his feet remained firmly planted despite his weak posture. I walked through to his kitchen and clicked the kettle on, sat him down in the lounge whilst I looked for some tissues and made him a cup of needed tea. This was our routine, and it had become embedded into my memory since we were at University. 

I remember the first time so clearly, he knew this girl for all of three weeks and was falling for her. She had sex with some bass player, leaving him stranded and me to pick up the pieces that fell with every step he took. If only I knew that that would be the first of many tales and broken shards of hope. This time felt different, it looked different. 

Her name was Esther, she was beautiful. Seeing her and Dan together was like seeing two people who you knew were destined in the stars meet. And it was all my own undoing. I was with him, laughing as he helped me home after I broke my shoe. Esther walked by, we knew each other from an old book club. Immediately he changed, his posture straightened, his grip on me loosened. I faded into the background as they interacted. As they say, the rest was history.

Was. Until now. 

Now we sit here, once again with cups of tea in hand and the story bubbling in his subconscious waiting to be released like the steam coming from his mug. “Well?” I chime in, knowing he wasn’t always an easy book to read. His head remained lowered, brows contorted as he stared at his mug with such intensity that it could break in his grip at any moment. 

“She was going to Milan, possible modelling job.” He mumbled and I scoffed quietly. Of course she was going to be a model. Of course. My lack of response caused him to lift his head, usually I interrupt, try to offer support. 

Yet this felt different, no words would come with ease as I tried and tried again to play the best friend role. Realistically I knew it expired after the second time, the time he cried and showed that vulnerability. He held me in his arms until we fell asleep, he played with my hair as we reminisced on happy times. That was when I knew I had in fact fallen, and I haven’t found my way back since. 

Every time I saw him with someone else I would smile for their sake. Yet with each time the smile became more forced, it felt like string was being sewn into the corners of my mouth and pulled until it hurt and tied with dainty bows around my ears, fixing them in place. Even now that the ties have been cut, the ache still looms. I would clap and cheer as they kissed under the mistletoe, laugh when Esther said she knew someone who I would really like, that we could double date. Underneath those light hearted laughs an endless pit of sobs flipped. 

Sitting here now I can tell he is looking at me, that look that makes my heart race a few beats faster than necessary yet I can’t help it, I can’t control the means of my emotions. “And you didn’t want her to go?” I raised an eyebrow to him as I sipped my tea, the usual refreshing beverage tasted like chlorine, yet I took another sip to distract myself. 

“Why would I? I told her I wanted her to stay as she knew what it could’ve meant. She was leaving for six months.” He stated, raising his voice as he spoke to which I hushed him. Moving himself back into the retired sofa he let out a long frustrated sigh. 

Closing my eyes I can see the two of them now in this room, Esther sat down with those puppy eyes telling him nothing would change. Dan would ponder the thought whilst pacing, a bad habit he developed from me. They’d shout, he would regret saying things and she would leave. She would have slammed the door and seconds later reality would have hit him, he would have rang me. 

And here we are. In this nightmare I call reality. 

Running my left hand through my hair I tuck some behind my ear, with little luck some manages to escape, likewise to my feelings for my best friend as I see him so helpless and lost. “Has she left yet?” I ask, forcing any ounce of hope into my tone as my stomach sinks, dragging my heart with it as my brain takes control. 

He shakes his head, the places the mug down and holds his head in his hands. “She will be at this hotel, her friend sent me the address earlier.” Whilst he remained out of sight I released a shaky breath, holding back any form of regret or sorrow in my face knowing what I have to do. 

I have to be the best friend, I have to do the right thing. Even if it adds another plaster to the ongrowing collection holding my heart together. “Then go. You pack a bag, get her that necklace she was admiring the other week and apologise.” He lifts his head, something glazes his eyes rather than thick tears. “You do the romantic gesture, tell her that it will be fine. Tell her it will work out because, because,” Before I have a chance to finish my sentence he stands up, a small smile forming whilst mine has vanished. 

“Because I love her.” All that emotion pushed into those specific three words. Three words I wished to hear in regards to myself, not someone else after all these years. His face lit up as he realised what he had said, that smile forcing of pure joy that left a draining ache in my chest. “I love her.” He turns his back to me and I lower my head, lifting my hand up and lightly wiping my eyes whilst he laughs lightly and rushes through the house getting his things. 

Taking a moment I listen to him, all the things he plans on saying to her and I choke back the sob as I chuckle. I pull out my phone and head towards the door, “Listen Dan, I need to go. But good luck.” As I hold onto the front door he runs through, a suit shirt that he is never seen in and two ties in his hands. 

His smile falters as my eyes widen at the sight of him, knowing he won’t wear a suit to come and get me, to do a romantic gesture as grand as this. All I am is the bystander who watches it happen to someone else. “Wait, which tie?” He motions to them both and immediately I point to the burgundy one. 

“It will bring the colour out in your eyes, she won’t be able to resist.” I tell him and that smile appears, the smile that leaves broken pieces inside of me as I try and glue them back together. Yet I can never get it back, never get the stability my heart needs. 

He thanks me and as I close the door I catch his last few words, “What would I do without you?” The door closes behind me and those words echo in my mind. Exactly, Dan. What would you do without me, the one who saves every relationship you have at my own expense. 

Walking to the lift I shakily dial the number I need, letting it ring I rub my lips together to prevent them from quivering anymore. Releasing a few small breaths I can feel my heart beating in my ears just as he answers. “Can, can you come and pick me up please? I got the bus here and I don’t want to take it back.” I manage to keep it together long enough to get it out, to sound remotely stable. 

“Yeah sure, everything okay?” Those two words, two simple words strung together with such a monotone voice and I break. I shake my head knowing he can’t see and grip my face. 

“Dandy.” I state before letting him finish, tell me he’ll be here shortly and I hang up. 

Turning to see my reflection the silent cries become more cynical, violent sobs. I can’t help but laugh at my state, how it happens every single time yet I haven’t learnt my lesson. I still try and reach for him knowing it is a one way system. Wiping my face I pull my hair to cover some of my face, frame it more so to hide the dried tears and pain he has etched without knowing. 

As I walk out immediately he is there, standing by his car waiting for me. I pick up the pace as he locks eyes on me, a sweet smile on his face. “Hey Will.” I mutter and go straight for the car door rather than his warm embrace. 

Immediately he senses something is off as he walks round to his door and silently gets inside. My head turned to face the building he glances up, mutters my name but I remain silent. A small sigh sounds from him as his hand comes closer to my face, turning it to see how drained I was, always am after seeing him. 

“How much longer are you going to keep doing this to yourself? Helping him pine over someone else rather than be with you, someone who he should be with.” He asks with too much emotion, his words drill deeper into my chest nearing the remains of my heart as I sit in silence. 

Will retracts his hand from behind my head and sighs to himself. As a result my cries become more rapid yet still as quiet as I need them to be. The sudden sound of his door opening caught my attention, my head quickly turned as the sight of him exiting the car caused adrenaline to over power the tears. Immediately my body reacted before my brain, I was out of the car and trying my hardest to stop him- despite our height and obvious strength differences I wanted to attempt to be intimidating. Attempt being key as I remain a crying broken mess. 

“Don’t.” I simply state as I swallow back that lump, the same one that just won’t give up at trying to make me ugly cry aloud. He raised an eyebrow, signifying his mere confusion as his eyes searched my clouded ones. “Just, just leave it Will. I can’t do this to him, not tonight.” Lowering my head my hands start to slip off of his chest yet he holds onto them with the right amount of pressure.

Muttering my name I lift my head weakly, “Let’s get you home, I think you could use some sleep.” I thank him as we get back into his car, leaving the apartment block once again with me looking the same way at his window. The look of longing, almost craving something that will never happen. 

As Will’s car screeches in relief as he pulls up outside my little home we return to that awkward silence. My tears have dried and stained the same lines on my cheeks along with the snot that has now dried, yet the feeling lingers onto the heavy ache in my body. “Thank you, I know you don’t have to do this for me. None of you do, but you still help me.” I glance his way as he has all attention on me, specifically on my appearance. 

“He shouldn’t make you feel this way, become this version of yourself.” He motions to how I remain too still, too fragile compared to my usual self. “If I were Dan I would be with you in a heartbeat. But soon enough, soon he will see it like we all do.” 

I can’t help but chuckle to myself, “After all the years I doubt he will have some sudden epiphany. But thank you, Will. Really.” Reaching over I hug him tightly before departing. He watches me until I unlock the door and wave half heartedly before he drives off, only now do I feel the ache more apparently. 

Dragging my feet through the hallway I walk up the stairs, with each step I can hear his voice saying something about her that he admired. Her eyes. Her gratitude for everything. Her incapability to see her true beauty. Every single thing makes my lips quiver, my eyes flood and body weaken. By the top step I collapse, hold onto the railing as I bring my legs to my chest and sob in the comfort of my own home, alone. 

“This is why you should tell him.” I tell myself with too much sarcasm between the sobs. “If you told him that you love him, then maybe you’d have a better reason to cry rather than just pitying yourself.” Standing up I walk to my bathroom and stare at my reflection. 

Looking at myself I pick out all the things that aren’t right. The fact that I have let my cheeks become stained from crying. How I have permanent dryness around my mouth from wiping it, that my nose is always slightly more pigmented compared to the rest of my face. Yet, above all else, that I let him do this. That I let him make me this way whilst he laughs and kisses her every single night whilst I lie alone. 

Changing into some comfortable pajamas I wander downstairs and get cosy under the pile of blankets whilst watching some television. Zoning out on the drama plot my phone rings three times before I notice and pick it up. “Hello?” I yawn down the line, forgetting to check who it is calling. 

A few faint breaths could be heard and I paused the show and moved to sit upright. Down the line my name was muttered through deep breaths and the concern grew in my stomach. “Are you at home? Please tell me you are.” I let out a sigh of relief, yet it was momentary as my eyes darted to my now closed blinds covering the windows. 

Standing up I slowly pace over to the windows, “Why? Everything alright?” I ask with gentle concern, trying to disguise my nerves. As my hands reach out to the curtains the doorbell rings, catching me off guard. “Please tell me that it is you at the door, not a serial killer.” Whispering to him now I can hear that irritating chuckle. 

“One or the other.” Rolling my eyes I walk over, opening the front door. 

At first I struggle to see, “My porch light is broken, sorry.” I mutter as I turn the hall light on, illuminating him. The sight of him confuses me and I remain quiet as I look at him. All suited up, wearing the tie I told him to wear, glancing to his eyes I can see the contrast against the blue. I knew it would’ve been a good choice. Leaning against the doorway I cross my arms over my stained pajama top, “Dan, what’re you doing here?” Curiosity laces my voice and I can see he is still panting. “Need a drink?” He nods and invites himself in, walking straight past me barely making eye contact. 

Following him into the kitchen he has his back turned to me as he rests his arms out on the counter facing the darkness outside of my window. Hovering by the entrance I fiddle with my fingers, unsure of what else to do until he reacts. “Sorry to freak you out.” He mutters, back still turned. “I know you have a habit of playing with your fingers when you get nervous or scared, it’s okay.” Walking over to me he takes my hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. Yet as he lets go, it feels different. 

Beforehand it left me with a longing sensation, but now it feels fine. It feels how it looks; supportive. “So, why aren’t you with Esther?” As much as the searing pain increases across my chest as I ask he doesn’t react immediately. His hands hover at his stomach with caution. 

As we stand in silence I try and search his face for something, a sign. But there’s nothing. His face is a blank slate, not letting anything slip through the wrinkles or smile lines. “I, I had a thought.” 

Raising an eyebrow to him he lifts his head up, eyes focusing on mine. “Be careful, can’t have too many of those.” I remark, but this time something's not right, he is being too serious and not cracking. 

“No, I mean it.” He quietly states and directs me to my living room where my blankets remain messily pushed to one side. Sitting down on the sofa he paces around the space, anxiety building with each step he takes. “After you left I was getting ready, ready to surprise Esther. But then Will turned up.” Everything freezes up except my heart which goes into overdrive. 

Will. Bloody brilliant. 

“Whatever Will told you Dan, you shouldn’t have been told.” I speak up and stand in front of him, already preparing myself for the rejection that is approaching. 

Standing there Dan remains quiet, focusing on me as I try to avoid his gaze. “Hey,” His left hand cups my chin until I focus on him without anywhere else to turn. “I, I have been such a dick to you.” I shake my head but he continues, “No I really have.” Sincerity takes over everything around us and in him. 

“Dan it’s okay, you’re happy and so am I.” I repeat it mentally, hoping that he buys it, that he believes that it is true. That I am happy. 

Yet, this time he shakes his head. “But you aren’t. And neither am I.” His hands wander down to find mine, taking them lightly. “All this time I was trying to convince myself you would never feel the same.” My eyes catch his as they become glossy, he laughs to himself as he shakes his head and pushes his hair back; he’s nervous. “I thought you’d never see me as anything more than the best friend you’d turn to when need be. So I convinced myself to stop noticing the little things about you.” 

“What?” Confusion bursts out as my hands tense into his. “How,” He stops me before I have the chance to continue, my eyes lock back into his. 

“I tried to ignore your laugh, how full and wholehearted it can be when you’re comfortable around someone.” I watch his lips move, the stubble that was there before shaved. “The way you always look out for people, even strangers. How you always, always make others feel more uplifted.” Unable to disguise the smile forming on my face his grows, “And that.” Motioning to my smile, “I could watch you smile all day, seeing your face lighten up just makes me put things into perspective.”

“All this time,” I take my hands out of his and wrap them around his neck. “and neither of us could say anything?” Laughing I can’t get over how outrageous it all is. “Are we that naive?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “I love you.” Those three words, directed at me after all this time. After the various occasions when he would tell them to someone else, how I would see them react I take a different route. 

“Okay.” I reply, much to his confusion. “I’m kidding.” Laughing I can see the relief wash over, “I love you too.” Hugging him tightly I can’t find a reason to let go, to need to let go anymore as I finally have what I have been after all these years. As we pull away I focus on his lips, seconds away from our first kiss without any regret. “Also, you finally wore a suit.”