London. Where he knew to find the exact spot of the bathroom light switch when he would reach for it in the dark of night. Where there were cups of strong builder’s tea just the way he liked it. Where there were after work drinks at pubs that would be filled to the brim with others who had the same idea when they walked out of their office buildings at 5. Where people responded to your “sorry” with their “sorry”. Where you were, right now.

Joe’s days in LA were complex, and his job involved many aspects he didn’t have any control over which started taking its toll on him. Especially now that he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a few days. On long days like this one, people would almost seem to handle him like he wasn’t a human being at all. They were all smiles and kind words, but the hours he’d have to work felt inhumane. They asked a lot from him. And that’s not to forget that when Joe would eventually find himself in the comfort and silence of the rented apartment, he’d be up late reading scripts, rehearsing lines, doing self-tapes and deep diving Wikipedia pages in research of characters he would audition for later in the week.

It left him frustrated, moody and snappy, which wasn’t Joe’s default setting, and he actively disliked this version of himself. It didn’t help that the days had started piling together and he’d let it build without mentioning it to anyone. He knew he had to when he’d taken a shower and het let the emotion hurt him in his throat rather than getting it out of his system by having a cry.

There only seemed one solution to his problem, besides actually cutting his trip short which he knew he couldn’t do, but he felt a little apprehensive. Should he bother you with this? You had bigger fish to fry at home – you didn’t need to listen to Joe complain about opportunities he’d been working towards for so many years. But he just wanted to hear your voice. He knew you’d at least be kind enough to make him feel better. Joe remembered how you’d celebrated his upcoming trip with him. The one he was on now. It felt entirely effusive, he’d been on many trips before for his career, but you knew this one would be different. “I know I’ve said it before, but I can feel it, Joe. I can feel it right here.” You pointed to where Joe thought your spleen was located. “I think this is where my conscience sits.” You laughed. “Trust me, you’re going to come back and not recognize this face, so let me pay for your beers tonight so you’ll at least owe me when you get back.” You’d dragged him along to a pub, pride shining out of your eyes at what Joe’s future held. Prouder of me than my own mother, Joe thought.

You and Joe had been friends for too long. You always joked that you crowbarred your way into his life and squeezed yourself in between Joe’s intrusive thoughts and insecurities. A heavy bench to perch yourself on, but your light could easily overtake that darkness within Joe’s mind. And he loved you for it, but it made meeting potential girlfriends so much more difficult, because none of them seemed to live up to what you brought him. They’d be so pretty, but then not as funny as you were. Or they’d be so funny, but they’d lack your soft care for him. Or they’d care so much, but would only listen to Joe and then not do anything to cheer him up. It was always something that didn’t feel right. You were hogging the seat on that bench in his mind that was reserved for a lover. And Joe knew it wasn’t smart, but he let you.

“Sorry,” Joe heard movement of duvet covers as you turned over in your bed. “It’s still Thursday here.” He chuckled through a wince.

A couple of seconds of silence followed, and Joe imagined you in the dark of your bedroom, tucked up in your bed with your phone pressed to your ear and your eyes still closed.

“How’s LA?” you asked, threateningly close to drifting off to sleep again.

“It’s great.” But then you heard it in Joe’s voice, he stitch of melancholy, and you forced your eyes open. Joe wasn’t doing okay.

“That bad?”

“No, really. It’s great! It’s just… it’s a lot.” Joe let his head fall back against the sofa he was sat on.

“Were you expecting it not to be?” Joe could hear the smile that played on your face. He was fine with you poking a little fun, knowing it would give way for bickering that held every potential to lighten his mood.

“You don’t really know what it’s like until you’re here. Until you’re in it.” He defended.

“You sound tired,” you observed. “Get some sleep, it’ll all feel better in the morning.” Your advice filled Joe’s chest with warmth. He knew you were right. “I’m so jealous I’m not there,” you noticed the rain hitting your bedroom windows hard. “It’s really pissing it down here at the moment.”

Joe closed his eyes. He’d love some rain right now, even if it was just to reflect his mood.

“You wouldn’t like it here. This place is heartless.” Joe didn’t exactly have the highest of expectations of LA before having visited, but the way homelessness and decay laid around the corner of the glamour and shine of Hollywood had left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You just say that because your heart’s in London.” You reasoned.

With you, Joe thought.

“How many days until you’re back?” you stifled a yawn, prompting Joe to do the same.

“Too many… like, eleven?” Joe wasn’t sure. “Maybe ten.”

And as you started getting ready to slowly ease yourself into your last day of work before the weekend, Joe started getting ready to finish his day and prepared himself for bed. It was almost as if you were there with him in LA, and simultaneously he was there with you in London.

You chatted about an issue at work as you both brushed your teeth – Joe could barely make out the words. Joe talked about an amazing restaurant he’d been to as you got dressed. The company he’d been in had ruined the experience, so next time, he said, he’d go there with you. You did your make-up as you offered Joe advice on how to find the silver linings, reminding him he was doing good things, great things for himself out there. Joe washed his face as he absorbed every bit of positivity from you that leaked through the speaker of his phone.

And when you opened the curtains in your living room, you could hear Joe close the curtains in his bedroom.

“Goodnight Joey, turn that big brain off, all right? Count to infinity if you must.”

“Have a good day at work,”

“Love you, sleep tight.” You tried your best to say it as a friend, but the butterflies in your stomach seeped through, just... slightly.

“Love you.” Joe tried his best to say it as more than a friend, hearing your butterflies and feeling his own in response.

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