To Be With You (Westlife Fan Fiction) Completed

Chapter 16 - Interrupted breakfast

"Don't get any hopes Kian," Shane spoke, "Lauren seems just a little drunk."

"We should get some sleep, it's a day tomorrow too." Nicky pointed.

"Come on..." I complained.

"You heard the old man, let's go to bed," Shane said.

Bryan was the first one to walk away into the bathroom. Soon Nicky and and Mark started to move, they went back to their own loge. Next were Shane and Kian who started to undress for the night.

I made an attempt to walk back to my loge, but faltered when I tried to stand up.

"Hey... Someone follows Lauren to her room." Shane said with his shirt halfway pulled over his head.

"I'll do it." Bryan came out from the bathroom. He made me rest my arm around his neck before we walked out the room.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked while we walked the hallway. He should be mad at me for kissing Kian right in front of him.

Bryan did not reply to my question until we arrived to my loge. He placed me on my bed, and himself right in front of me.

"I get that you're trying to punish me. But I'm not doing this by choice. I don't like how it is right now. I wish we could be together right now, but that's not how it is. Things has to be fixed first and I know that you know that."
He made a pause before he continued.
"And I'm helping you because I care about you. You know that too." He stroke his hand along his forehead. A light laugh could be heard behind his words. "Why I'm I even saying this? You will probably not remember anything tomorrow." He started to walk out the door.

"Hey..." I felt so stupid. My plan had been to punish him, but it had been so wrong and unfair. And I knew that he was right. Memory loss was always a consequence I had to stick with when I had been drinking. "I'm sorry Bryan..."

He replied with a nod, walked out and closed the door. As soon as I was alone, tears filled my eyes.

•••••••••••••••

I woke up next morning with a great headache. I probably executed every cell in my brain last night. How was I supposed to be able to work today? What had I been thinking?

I got out of my bed and walked into my own little bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror. The reflection gossiped about yesterday night. My hair was a mess and I wore same clothes as I had been wearing daytime. That meant I had been too drunk to change clothes and put my hair up as I usually do before I go to bed. The darkness under my eyes told me I went to bed awfully late. But the most chocking was something else under my eyes - mascara. I had been crying. I could not remember why. Had I been fighting with Bryan? Was it completely over between us? What had we been doing last night? I knew we had been drinking together in one if their loges, but that's all I had in my memory.

I took a shower, changed clothes and brushed my teeth, in other words, tried to erase every sign of my condition from last night. A pair of blue jeans and a yellow sweater became my choice of clothing. I put my damp hair up in a hight pony tale and applied mascara, then concealer under my eyes. The concealer felt extremely necessary today...

•••••••••••••••

"Good morning." I greeted as I met the staff in the hallway. Today was the last concert here in Cardiff. Then we would move on to England.

I sat down with my toasts beside some of the lighting designers and lighting technicians. I did not have to wait long for the Westlife guys to join us. Not very surprisingly they looked as tired as I did.

"Morning Aberg." Shane greeted and bumped down in front of me across the table. Soon the others filled the rows of chairs beside me and Shane.

"Morning," I answered as good as I could with my mouth filled with bread. The silence around the table talked for our tiredness. Despite some quiet discussions two tables away, the canteen was completely quiet. It was Westlife's manager Louis Walsh who broke the silence.

He stood at the end of our table. "Good morning." He greeted the Westlife lads, not necessary including me, I wasn't sure. He held something in his hand, which looked like a piece of paper.

"What's up?" It was Nicky who asked. We all waited for his statement to be said. He remained quiet, but held up the paper for all of us to see. It was a page torn out from a magazine. The sight of the picture interrupted every motion of my body. Everybody around the table seemed to freeze just like me.

(Image source: markfeehily.net)