#dan smith fluff

inspired by happier. (I like the vibe, but I can’t quote replicate it itno writing like others but eh, gave it a go.)

realising it’s hard to writ about falling out of love when you’re not in it- especially now with a few things going on lol. 

thank you to the anon who requested, and if you have any suggestions drop me an ask or message!

collection of writing

The last time I saw her smile, I can’t remember it anymore. And that is where the issue lies. 

She wasn’t herself anymore, and neither was I. Those people who lie together in this bed that was once too small for two adults to lie in began to fill the room so contact was impossible. 

It began with small details, she would silently get up rather than kissing my cheek before she went. I began to disassociate myself from her when I was out with friends. She was shutting herself up, and I no longer had the key unlocking her heart to pour open what she is bottling up inside. 

I suggested it. It was when she was away with her friends for a few days and I lie awake in the middle of the nighalone with my thoughts. 

At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, trying to make me turn on those closest to me. But then, the longer I thought about it, the more sense it made. 

That was the beginning of those sleepeless nights for me. 

Each night a new prospect came into my brain, slowly nawing away until it left me with a decision. 

I could see her with other people, her hand intertwined with someone elses. She would laugh, she would learn to live again and not remain silent in a place she should be comfortable. She willl get to learn about their life, their family and have new experiences all over again. 

Just not with me anymore. 

*

She would be expecting me to be in the flat, just like any other Sunday when I wasn’t needed in the studio. But instead the only thing that would be there is a note. 

By the time she would be back there, settled into the sofa and reading the note I’d be gone. I would be sat on the tube with my bag packed, trying to block out everything and not focus on her face. 

But every time the doors opened I hoped to see her, that she would willingly take me back, tell me she needed me like I needed her. 

Except we werent meant for each other. The keys dont fit the locks. We can’t force it to work anymore and break anymore keys. 

I know she won’t appear. She won’t call in anger, or cry down the line in the middle of the night. Because I know her too well. Instead she’ll do what I really want her to be doing- moving on. 

Deep down I know I have accepted she can be happier without me, but will I without her? 

*

Waking up in my new place still doesn’t yet deserve the title of my new home. Everything remains in boxes, cans of paint my Mum brought over remain lined againt the wall with test patches painted across the dull off white walls. 

Every morning I better knowing she’s better off with me not being in her life like I was. 

I get the odd update from our friends, and as I lie in bed scrolling through social media I scroll back up. 

And there she is. 

The girl I fell in love with. The brightest smile on her face as she sits on someone else’s lap, he’s laughing in the photo. I can almost hear her. That sweet laugh I heard from across a bar that night all those years ago. How confidently she wobbled towards me, introduced herself and said ‘you need to be my boyfriend for tonight, okay?’ 

And then the night turned into two, and then into months and years. 

She seems different. Maybe, just mabe this is what genuine happiness looks like on her. 

I climb out from my bed, leaving my phone foace down on the duvet and walk towards the cans of paint. 

Picking up the pale blue I grab a brush and begin to make progess. 

(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.

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 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’s been so long, far too long. i’m at uni, i’m going into my third week now and it’s been a bit of a harder adjustment than I had anticipated, especially mental health wise. but this evening I had a very lovely anon give me an idea in depth for a piece. and they have made my evening with this piece, so I hope you like it and to the person who requested it in particular.

enjoy :) 

if you have a request of any kind do ask, literally ask any idea and I will try my best to write it as my inspiration is at an all time low (heh, get it.) 

collection of my writing

Sighing I check through all my notes, the resources and stupidly heavy textbooks that weigh by conscience down as I see the one place of comfort in mind. The sign that once was bright and colourful has now faded due to age creating a pastel effect matching their aesthetic. With my free hand, I push the door open, walking in and immediately feel relaxed, a sense of tranquillity forms when I’m here. 

The ground coffee beans whir in the various machines in front of me whilst to my left neatly arranged are all of the options to join the drinks. I close my mouth to stop it watering at the sight of them all, knowing I shouldn’t and just order a drink. As I walk up to the glass counter I eye over the pastries, unable to resist them this time, like every time. 

“What can I get you today?” Lifting my head up a different voice greeted me, usually, it’s an elderly woman on Tuesday afternoon, but this belonged to someone younger, more formal. 

Before me was someone I’d never seen around in the city, nor on campus. I gripped tightly onto my textbooks that began to slip out of my fingers as I focused on him, rather than the drinks listed in chalk on the blackboard behind him. His eyes were bright, contrasting the interior. They had flecks of the pastel blue likening the sign outside, but mainly they were deep, full of emotion and curiosity. A smile began to form on his face as I remained quiet, his right eyebrow lifting as I pondered over my choices, knowing I always chose the same thing. “Erm, one tea please.” My words struggled to leave my lips, they held tightly to my tongue as he turned around muttering to one of the others my order. 

He told me the amount and I tried to reach for my purse, yet as I did so the books slipped and scattered across the floor. I released a frustrated groan as I heavily placed my purse on the counter and began to gather my papers, now out of any sort of order they once were in. “Here,” Kneeling next to me I focused on the scuffed converse and the hands that brushed against mine as he helped gather my things as it remained almost empty besides the other regulars spotted around. 

Pushing my hair back it continued to fall in my face, causing me to become flustered yet he chuckled lightly. Lifting my head my eyes met his along with a sweet smile, he wasn’t making fun of me, nor taking the piss, but instead, it was something else. He put the papers on the counter as I paid and took them all to my usual window seat in the corner where the plush sofa was built into the long brick wall. I place the growing pile down across the table as I lean back into the plum fabric, feeling myself sink and momentarily relax before he walks over and places the mug along with the teapot and spoon with it. “Thank you.” I say with sincerity as I push my hair behind my ear, a small smile on his face as he walks away.

Focusing on my work I begin to write away, picking and highlighting lines from the textbooks and referring back to the notes I’d already have written. In the background I sometimes zone in on his voice, lifting my pen so I don’t accidentally copy the usual sentences he says and repeats to every customer he greets. I pick up my phone occasionally, check the time and compare it to how much work I’ve done so far. 

The cafe differs to working in the library or in my room at halls. Here there is actual peace, I’m not being interrupted for something or hearing other conversations constantly. There aren’t any loud distractions, or so I thought until this barista came into view today. I shut him out, go back to writing the necessary notes as life continues outside, passing me by. Couples walk by, hand in hand without it being forced, without it seeming awkward. 

Unaware of my daydreaming I hear something clink next to me. I turn my head and see a pastry on a plate next to my now empty pot and the mug of tea. Lifting my head up in confusion I see the back of him, the mess of brunette hair walking away until he is back behind the empty counter, a smile on his face as I still wear a confused gaze in my eyes. 

Hours pass by without me knowing and I look outside, seeing the sunset glare onto cars parked along the road. The bright warm colours reflect from the blank surfaces and I begin to pack up my things, being one of the few remaining in the cafe, calling it a day with a silent yawn. I reach down to pick up my bag and my notes before standing up, taking the tray of empty dishes over to the counter secretly hoping he is still around. 

As I place them down to the empty counter no one is in sight. I lean over and someone pops up, making me laugh as he stands up holding a bag of coffee beans. A shy smile crossing his face as my small laugh fades into the muttered conversations of those still here. “Thank you for the pastry.” I told him and he ran his hand through his thick hair, reorganising the mess that it was in. 

“I’m Dan, by the way.” He motioned to where a name badge should’ve been, yet his apron remained blank. Flustered he looked down at the floor around him, searching through things causing some noise, but as he returned he clipped it back on, crimson marking his cheeks. 

I responded with my name, “No name tag, unfortunately.” Joking with him felt easy, it wasn’t some awkward remark. “I better head off, but I’ll see you around.” Holding my books close to my chest I lift my hand giving a small wave. He reciprocates the action as I pull the door, unable to get it and I catch my foot forcing it. 

A hand holds the door for me, and I turn to see him with a bright smile matching his eyes in expression. “Have a good evening.” Rubbing my lips together I struggle to hide the joy that radiates as I walk out and back to the land of distractions and the unpleasant smell of burnt food from my flatmates. 

Watching the doors slide open I step out from the uneasy metal box, feeling the uneasiness rise in the pit of my stomach as I walk through the doors leading to the cheers and laughter behind the wooden door. I sigh to myself and place my key card against the panel, hearing that familiar beep as I push it open and walk along the corridor to my door. To my right, I can hear them in the kitchen, the furthermost door from my room.

Placing my books on the desk that goes along the entirety of one of the walls I can’t help but contrast it to the comfort of the cafe, somewhere I can work with ease whereas this desk is rarely used for that purpose. Mainly I use it to dump anything and everything on, ranging from food to empty dishes and the odd sock. As I place the pile of books and papers on top of others I check them and compare it to my list that I left on my bed before I left. 

Reading through the list I pick up some of the books, looking for the article I had to write about. Yet as I search through all of it I go into a blind panic, it’s not here. “Okay, just be rational.” I try to tell myself as I lift them all up and put them on my bed as I search through the growing mess on my desk, causing more problems for myself to sort out at a later date. 

I turn around and check the things I brought back with me, it’s not here. Sitting on my floor in defeat I check the time, seeing if I have enough time to make it back to the cafe to get my notes for my 9AM seminar tomorrow morning. It’s already 7:45pm, they close at 8. Maybe I’ll make it, maybe just? 

Within seconds I force myself out of the door, only picking up my phone as the door shuts behind me, locking itself as I run down the nine flights of stairs like a mad woman wanting nothing more than to get my notes. My appearance was failing me as I reach the ground floor, some give me looks as my eyes remain wide and breath failing me, but I don’t have time to stop. 

As I push open the doors I am greeted with thick rain that lashes down, not sparing anyone. I pause as I realise what I’m wearing, a stupidly thin grey top, no jacket, no umbrella. “Fuck it.” I mumble under my breath as I just run, ignoring the cold that lashes against my skin and makes my hair cling to my head. 

Passing people I feel as if I’m in a film, one of those scenes where the girl or guy doesn’t want to lose the person they love and they meet in the rain and convince them to stay. Except, in this case, I am going to convince the owner of the cafe to give me my papers back, that is if he’s still there. 

Before me is the sign that usually makes me feel at peace, but now it makes me tense up as I squint due to the raindrops falling on my face. I walk up to it, letting out a heavy sigh and rest my head against the glass. “Hello? Is anyone in there?” The slightest sweetness in my voice had worn away, it had been flattened like my hair as I shivered due to the cold that clung to my exposed skin. 

Looking around I could see my papers, I was glancing at them like they were a puppy in a window that was just out of reach. I began to knock, each knock becoming louder and with more urgency and eventually, I could see movement. The lights switched on and I closed my eyes, wiping my face. As I opened my eyes the door opened before me and I felt a warm hand rest on my back, “Oh thank you so much you have no idea how much I’ve been freaking out over my papers.” I ramble as I hug myself and remain on the welcome mat, not wanting to drip everywhere. 

I lift my head to see it’s him, it’s not the cafe owner. He walks over to my papers and brings them over, but as he glances down at me he can’t help but chuckle quietly. “I’m sorry it’s just, you’re soaked.” His eyes soften as they focus on mine and I feel a little bit less cold. “You can’t stay here,” He moves closer, whispering in my face. “my boss doesn’t let customers in after hours.” Picking up his bags he places my papers inside. 

“Guess I should get-” 

“Daniel? Who is here?” A loud yell sounds and his bright blue eyes turn cold as he grips onto my hand and pulls me out of the cafe and down the street. 

Together we dart down the streets, our hands intertwined together and not slipping or letting any rain interfere. I glance over to see his hair becoming damp, flattening like mine, but his smile doesn’t falter. We near a bus shelter which remains absent from any life besides us as we sit down, panting. 

I take my hand out of his as I try to detangle my hair, but it’s no use. My top clings to every crevice of me, refusing to part with my skin as if it is a new layer. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He mutters between heavy breaths. “I have your papers in my bag. For you to take back.” 

Turning to face him I thank him, smiles on both of our faces as we just laugh at each other state. “I should get back though.” Pulling my phone but it’s not that late, but I still have some things to sort out. I pat my pocket and my eyes go wide, concern crosses his reflecting how I feel. “Shit.” I mutter as I check again, then check my back pockets and the case on my phone. “Shit.” 

Standing up I want to scream, yell, anything. Dan stands up and nears me, his hand resting on my back as I hunch over watching the droplets fall in front of me. “What’s wrong?” Closing my eyes at his soft yet rugged tone I sigh.

“I left my key in my room.” I state blanky. Opening my eyes I face him, he clenches his jaw, trying to not laugh at the fact. “It’s not funny.” I pathetically say and he still keeps his mouth tightly shut, shaking his head. 

As I raise an eyebrow to him he just starts laughing as I collapse down, my bum becoming wet like the rest of me. “Come on.” He helps me up and he passes me his jacket. I slip it on and embrace the warmth from it, the oversized denim that is lined with wool like a blanket. “You can stay at mine, I’ll get you something to wear and then you can go back as early or late as you need to until you can get back in.” It was either staying at a stranger’s or sleeping in a damp bus shelter. 

I think it’s obvious which option I chose. 

He opened his front door, waiting for me to go inside. I patiently waited in his hallway, unsure what to do. Glancing around at his place it has an open plan, no stairs, just one big space. He comes out from one of the rooms as I focus on the keyboard by a large window covered in splatters of water. “You play?” I ask as he approaches me. 

Lifting his spare hand he runs it through his damp thick head of hair, an uneasy laugh following. “Yeah, in my free time. Trying to save to do a few gigs eventually.” A thousand thoughts sparked in my mind, how this layer of him lies beneath just being another barista. “Erm, these are for you.” He hands me some fuzzy towels. “The bathroom is just through there, take as long as you need. I’ll sort you some clothes.” As I slip my shoes off along with my soaking wet socks I thank him and wander through. 

Turning the shower on I let the steam fill the room, the warmth that makes it cosy rather than overly invasive. This certain beats being in halls that’s for sure. I let the warmth sink into my skin, combating the cold chill that looms in the spacious room. I turn knobs until the water disembarks, leaving me in silence with the wind howling outside of the window along with a soft piano in the background. Is he playing? 

I wrap myself in the fuzzy towels, roughly drying my hair and body before opening the door partially, calling his name. He quickly wanders over, trying to avoid focusing on me as I hide behind the door, a towel covering me for decency. I motion to being in a towel and he switches on, “Yes, clothes.” Walking away quickly he comes back with one of his tops, “I didn’t know what to do about trousers but I have some tight joggers lying around, they’re better than nothing as my heating is broken.” 

“That’s really kind of you, thank you, Dan.” I try to say it with meaning, rather than it sounding fake or insincere. Yet the kindness in his eyes understands, it is understood with a simple glance, more than my words. Slipping me the joggers once the top is on I fold my damp clothes on top of the towels and wander out. 

He sits behind his keyboard as I shyly walk over, fidgeting with the ties on the joggers that are still far too big and hang on my hips. Sometimes wearing a guys’ clothes looks cute, and can be seen as attractive, but I highly doubt it in my case as his clothes hang on me making me look like a kid trying on their parents’ clothes. “It’s certainly a look.” He jokes, easing the awkwardness. 

I smile and sit on the edge of the sofa, focusing on him behind the keyboard. “So, what do you play? Your own songs?” I enquire as I lean forward, my smile growing with curiosity as he shuffles on his seat. 

“Sometimes.” He mumbles and my eyes go wide with awe. “Would, would you like to hear some of it?” I immediately nod, no hesitation needed.

got around 3 parts left I think, bit of a longer series but I don’t want to rush it all! thank you for the positive response on it so far, i am really enjoying this. :)

part one / two / three / five / six / seven (last)

collection of writing

(oh and back to dans perspective)

Seeing her, actually seeing her in the flesh is something I couldn’t envision. Mentally I could not see how bright her eyes were against the crisp ground, the dark skies above. I never thought her smile would make me feel warm inside to combat the bitter weather we sit in. Having her in my arms, calming her down as I stroke her hair feels surreal, yet we still don’t know what to class us as. 

This only verifies my own thoughts, that it’s not a friend situation, it’s that stage in between friends and being in a relationship; comfortable. Over the past three days we’ve been talking, I’ve woken up looking at her as she lay fast asleep in bed whilst I lie on a lumpy mattress which is marginally better to the tour bunks on her discoloured, stained bitty carpet that covers a fraction of the floorboards. When I wake up I can see what she sees, the beauty of the city through her glass doors. If I close my eyes I can hear her again, how she would describe it to me at morning and night, the descriptions never repeating themselves; always differing. 

We went to visit some of the places she always spoke about, we saw the sunset at the beach, she showed me a secret cafe few knew about. I got to see the library filled with more books spiralling upwards in unique shelves. But most importantly, I’ve been able to see her. I’m seeing her life, how she lives with her rather than just through a phone call. I can see her habits, the way she twirls her hair from boredom, or how she sometimes forgets words entirely and laughs it off. Her laugh, I could talk about it for too long, she just puts all of her energy into it, it nevers falters, it’s never the same. 

Yet I still feel like I’m lying to her. She knows me and I know her, but she doesn’t know about my music- not entirely. We’ve spoken about my music, about where I was when I was leaving. I told her about my seven hour flight, the rush I was in to just come and meet her as the taxi driver went the wrong way. That when I turned up I was out of breath, flustered and tried to keep calm for her sake. 

As I turn over on the mattress, away from the dusk of the morning I can see her face hidden beneath her duvet and various blankets due to the lack of heating here. She shivers lightly, despite the layering and all I want to do is lie with her, keep her warm in my arms. Even now she is beautiful, mouth slightly ajar and dribbling I’m sure, bed hair and being completely dead to the world she is still beautiful to me. I silently sigh and roll off of the mattress and head towards her kitchen. 

Stepping out of her room the chill only deepens down my spine as I pour myself a glass of water and glance out to see how dark it still is, despite how early it may be. “Can’t sleep?” Turning my head her friend, Myla, one of her closest roommates hovers by the doorway, her expression too blank to read.

I nod as I finish my gulp of water, “Yeah, it’s pretty cold tonight. Plus I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She hums something before walking closer towards me and sits down on the counter as I put my glass in the dishwasher and sit on one of their stools. 

“Does she know yet?” My head shoots up as I see her, a small smile forming on her face, but eyes unreadable. I keep quiet, unsure what Myla could mean by ‘know.’ She knows my name, she knows who I am, what else is there? All Myla does is shake her head at me, but I raise an eyebrow in response. 

Standing up I walk towards the window, the view nothing in comparison to the full length I can see in her room. Glancing over Myla still perches on the marble surface, her grin growing. “I, I don’t think I get what you mean.” Now she was moving closer to me until she was leaning against the counter opposite me, unable to make eye contact. 

“About your band? About Bastille?” She said our name with such venom, with such hatred without knowing us. Myla began to move closer until she was sat down next to me, “I wasn’t sure initially, but you looked so familiar. Yesterday it clicked, my ex listened to you guys all the time. No hard feelings, but your music drives me insane because of him.” I let out a dry laugh, the tension rising between us. 

“You, you aren’t going to tell her, are you?” Apprehension was heavy in my chest, the idea of her finding out before I can tell her, explain to her hurts me deeply. She wouldn’t talk to me again, we’ve both shared personal things, some I’ve never told anyone else. But this is something else entirely, this is the portion of my life that is normal for me, but hard to fathom for someone else. 

I carefully watch her movements, how she lifts her head and avoids my gaze again. Myla stands back up, slowly walking further away leaving my heart hanging in fear, already preparing itself to be ripped out when she finds out from someone else about this. “I won’t.” My heart begins to pull itself back up at the two words of comfort she whispers with her back turned to me. “Promise me you won’t hurt her Dan.” She turns her head slightly, catching my eyes as hers are full of the chill that hangs in the air around us. 

“I’d never hurt her.” I state honestly, the thought of her getting hurt, or feeling upset because of me is something I can’t fathom. She means too much to me, more than she’ll ever understand. 

Once Myla leaves I feel like I can breathe again. Sitting still I contemplate how I’ll tell her, explain something that I never thought I’d have to explain. When she saw me a few days ago it crossed my mind that she could recognise me, that my face would be known in her memory. But she was oblivious, she had no idea about me. Maybe she knows the band, maybe she likes our music. Then again if Myla hates it that much, I doubt she’d have much luck playing it without getting an earful. 

The dusk begins to settle outside and dawn starts the same process. I stand up and head back into her room knowing she would want to see this, she always does and regrets sleeping through it. At least that is what she always told me on the phone. Sitting upright on the mattress I reach over for my glasses, everything slightly clearer now, a sharper perception on it all. 

I glance over to her and see her mouth is now closed, her arm hanging on top of the blankets and her pillows are now decorating her floor between the two of us. She slowly begins to move around, her nose twitching and face shaking from the cold. The temptation rises as she opens her heavy eyes, tired still laced in her expression entirely. A small smile forms on her face as she sees me, nothing more as she lifts her arms up, stretching out before sitting upright. As she sits there, clearly out of it she is unaware of her hair expanding whilst she slept, of how twisted her top has become or the drool down her chin. Yet she is still peaceful, still content in the moment. 

“Sunrise is coming.” I whisper to her and she turns to face me, rubbing her eyes and letting out a loud yawn. Once it registers what I’ve said her face lights up, she throws back the thick pile of fabric that covers her and allows her legs to hang on the side of her bed, her tip toes just touching the fallen cushions. 

She quickly moves past me to her glass doors, unlocking them and opening them wide. Already the breeze picks up in her room, the door closes itself as the wind passes through it, now trapping the cold in here between us. With the morning light she stands in its way, blocking it from my view, yet it allows her to glow. Around her she glows orange, her hair in its wild state burns bright like her eyes as she motions for me to join her. 

Without thinking she’s out there on her balcony, bare foot. I grab a blanket for her and follow through as she leans against the railing, simply watching the silence of the morning evolve. Hesitant I hold the blanket up, wanting to wrap it around me and hug her from behind, but instead I throw it over her shivering frame and stand next to her, wishing I could be warm with her. “Here.” She mutters and lifts the blanket up. 

I move closer to her and she takes my hands, putting them around her waist until I have the blanket draped over my shoulders and covering her front. Between us our body heat spreads, she can’t see how my cheeks rise with the heat between us despite the chill that cannot pass through us but focus on stabbing my cheeks. “I can see what you mean by the sunrise here.” I whisper into her ear, moving her hair aside as I rest my head on her shoulder wanting nothing more than to softly kiss her neck and work from there. 

Shutting the thought out I zone back in on what she’s saying. “it’s why I chose this place. See the park where we met in the distance? Here it is out of it all, but still part of the city life. From my flat I can observe without interfering too much. It’s a bubble.” She chuckles to herself and I can feel her move against me, she’s calm here, there’s no fear, no panic in her tone. Only comfort, only the two of us. 

“There’s something I want to do today,” I speak up and she turns around, leaning against the railing, but her hands are on my hips. Her eyes lock with mine as she keeps full attention on me, not faltering at all. “I want to take you somewhere so you can hear some of the music I’ve written.” Her eyes immediately light up, her grip on me tightens as her arms wander to my back, interlocking there whilst mine move around her waist. 

“Really?” She can barely hide the excitement, the bright glow that locks into place in her gaze. Licking her lips she turns her head away, something changed in that second for her, she’s turning around back to face the sunrise. 

Unsure how to take it I step away, I wrap the blanket back around her. Moving back inside I pick my phone up and take a picture of her whilst she’s unaware. Over the course of the past few days I’ve wanted to take as many pictures as I can of her, of us. The sun rises higher now, almost at her level. Positioning myself I capture it in a way that she is a silhouette with the morning glow radiating around her whilst the buildings either side her remain dark. Smiling to myself I head towards the bathroom, passing Myla who gives me a knowing look. 

“I’ll tell her, today.” I state and Myla smiles to herself and stops me, her hand resting on my arm. 

“She secretly likes the little things over extravagant events. And if you want to get her flowers, get pink and white peonies.” Before I have the chance to thank her she has already closed her door. 

Standing in the middle of their corridor I smile to myself, thinking how it is all slowly fitting together. “Dan?” Turning around I wander back to her in her room. She is now sitting on the balcony, ushering me over. I hover in the doorframe, “Sit with me?” She asks quietly and without thinking twice I lift the blanket up and sit next to her. Her head rests on my shoulder and she releases a loud yawn. “Tell me about your favourite place to visit.” I glance down and her vision is focused on the sky ahead. 

For the next hour we talk about all the places in the world I’ve seen, the sights I’ve witnessed and the people I’ve been able to meet. We talk about her holidays, her own travels and upbringing. By the time we finish the sun has been up for hours, the city life has been underway and people are sat in offices working hard drinking overpriced coffees. Yet we sit here, we can afford to laugh and joke about the pleasurable little things. And I don’t want it to end. 

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.”