This Ain’t A Love Story
He came to the kitchen downstairs to company you, while you were making dinner. His long dark hair was just a mess gathered around his head after a warm shower, and he was wearing nothing but sky blue jeans. He smirked and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing closely against you. "Jon, stop it", you chuckled. "I might burn the food", you warned, but he didn't care. After a long tour, all he wanted was to hold you and cuddle you. And there was nothing on Earth you wanted more.
You spoke to him softly, talking about all things romantic and just trying to make him feel loved and comfortable after many lonely months he had spent on the road. You weren't always sure if he really was that lonely, but at the end of the day, what you didn't know couldn't hurt you. All that mattered was that Jon was all yours, when you were together. You turned your back on the food and caressed his skin gently, gazing deep into his blue eyes. He loved to listen, when you were telling him how much you loved him and all the cute things he made happen, like the sky seeming bluer and the birds singing more beautifully, than yesterday. You were really getting into a cuddling mood, when Jon's face lit up like the sun. At that moment you knew, you had lost him. "Hold that thought, babe!" he excused himself and sprinted upstairs for some pen and paper. Yeah, like you were gonna hold a though for half the night, while he wrote a new song.
Jon was the best thing in your life, but sometimes it was really hard to be dating a rock star. What you would have given to be able to just once be all cuddly and cute, without accidentally inspiring him to write something like In These Arms or I Want You. God, he didn't even publish them, so what use were they to him? You shook your head and sighed, getting back to cooking dinner. Jon would be busy for hours, so you decided to finish cooking and pour yourself a glass of wine. You had really been waiting for tonight, shaving yourself and making sure you'd have a wonderful night with your man, and here you were, once again. Waiting for him to finish writing songs he kept saying he was gonna use, but never did.
After midnight you decided to just give up and go to bed. You were done waiting for Jon to pay attention to you. Maybe he had had his fun in the shower earlier that night, and didn't share your lust. He was still sitting at his desk, writing so fast you could already imagine, how he would desperately try to read his own handwriting the next day. He'd hold the paper first a normal distance, then bring it real close, and then move it as far as his arms could reach. He would try holding it up to a light and under one, mimic the words letter by letter to solve what he had written, and finally he would bring it to you. "(Y/N), please, what did I write last night?" he would plead, almost ready to cry.
When you finally had undressed and curled up under your blanket, you smiled a little. You sat up and looked at your boyfriend, still pouring his heart out on sheets of paper. Heaven knows you sometimes felt like you never got Jon's attention and it drove you mad, but if you could've changed him, turn him into the perfect man who would never forget to pay you the attention you wanted, you wouldn't have done it. You loved Jon just the way he was. Flaws and all.
