Catfish and the Bottlemen || Imagines

Graceless - Van

She could tell things were getting bad again when he'd began leaving their shared bed in the early hours, spending all his time sat with that dreaded notebook. Scribbling away in his messy scrawl for hours and hours at a time, his every waking thought all compiled into one battered notebook.

She could tell things were getting bad again when his face had become sullen and he had paled significantly more than she was used to. His stunning features became gaunt and his normally bright eyes pooling with dark purple bags that aged him. The freckles that normally littered his cheeks and nose grew faint and found themselves hidden underneath the sickly glow of his skin.

And she could tell things were getting bad again when he stopped eating and spending his time with her, instead disappeared off to random nooks and crannies of their home, busying himself with his guitar. It was clear he was struggling again when his diet returned to cigarettes and microwaveable meals that he only made when she reminded him that he needed to eat.

At times like this he was restless, exhausted and under-slept to the point it was clearly affecting his health. He absolutely loathed being off tour and so finding himself stuck at home for nearly two months had him tearing his hair out. It was a cycle she'd learnt all too well, he'd return bouncing off the walls, exited to see her and catch a break, but quickly he'd find himself overcome with a longing to be back on the road.

Although there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her and that being back home with her was what he wanted more than anything. She knew that sacrificing touring and playing shows would destroy him if he stayed away from it for too long. She'd agreed to this life just the same way he had as a teenager, agreed in full knowledge of the fact he would always be coming and going. That for 9 months of the year she'd live in their shared home alone, only occasionally seeing him for a week or two at a time. Sporadic weekends spent in random cities whenever she had a chance to see him, phone calls and text exchanges their main form of communication.

When he wasn't on tour or recording he was irritable and stubborn, whenever he was like this it would become clear touring was playing on his mind. Playing those shows and meeting people was his life and passion, he lived for the adrenaline that singing his heart out on stage filled him with. He was a people pleaser, he basked in the feeling of playing a good show, knowing that someone was leaving his show that night happy. And when he was without it he missed it more than he would ever admit.

She'd awoken long after the bedroom door had swung shut and the duvet cover had been thrown off his side of the bed, she assumed by the way the covers wrapped around her, he'd been careful to tuck her in. Now only a small imprint where he'd been laid down remained, reaching over with her arm she felt around for him, unsurprised when she felt that his side of the bed was cold. 

Straining her ears she listened for moment in the bathroom across the hall, hoping to hear the tap running as he washed his hands or his footsteps as he returned to bed. Silently praying that he wasn't denying himself of sleep even though she already knew he was. She allowed herself a moment of ignorant bliss, resting her head on the pillow and preparing herself for an argument. Whenever he got like this he refused to acknowledge how he was harming himself, how little care he had for himself was something she'd learned to make up for with her own love and attention. She sighed quietly to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she crept out of bed and towards the spare room.

It had gone on too long, normally she knew to leave him and let him work his way out of it, but if he carried on like this he'd end up making himself ill.

"Van..." she called softly, tapping on the door to the spare room, "Baby, it's four in the morning" she spoke as gently as she could, stopping in the doorway and watching him.