Tender (A britpop era fiction)

Cosmic Dancer

Jesus, this one was a long way coming. I must've written it about three times, everytime a complete different version. This one's probably what I call the most...realistic one? I don't know. I hope to God you're not disappointed, you had to wait so long for it. Please let me know that you think, I've missed all your commentaries so much. 

Next one will probably be Damons POV...because the infamous Noel chapter to come is a real pain in the ass, he's a tricky one to write. 

Thank you all so much for your patience. Enjoy the chapter!

lots of love,

Sally, x.

 "And I don't hate you, you silly cow."

Just wait, I tell myself. Just wait until he's gone. 

I close my eyes and open them again, just to see Liam's raised his eyebrows questioning, his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to say something and had lost the words on his way. 

It takes time. Those things linger inside you, waiting for the right moment to boil over. Memories pouring out from under the surface the very moment you think yourself safe and have tried to cross that frozen river, only to find it may have been buried under the snow, but it's not safe. It's never going to be. You can't touch the past without getting burnt by your own mistakes.

Wait. Wait until the ice under you finally cracks and you'll be pulled under into the cold. There's no use in fighting it. 

Just wait. Just fucking wait. 

This just can't be real.

But if my little brother has ever had a talent, it's to make everyone around him very aware that he's a very real thing, thrown into this  world to test your patience within the matter of a goddamn second. 

"Will ya quit the fuckin' staring now? I'm dead cold, me."

How could  I ever assume for even a moment he's not here? Only Liam would have the nerve-

Bitterness pushes up my throat. My hand clings around the cool metal of the doorhandle. I can't move, hesitating.

I've sworn to myself that Liam would never set a foot in this house. 

"Fuck's sake, you look deranged staring like that" he mumbles. Liam shuffles his feet.

I don't wanna say it, but there's an ancient part of me hardwired to respond to this little shit.

"What's goin' on with the hairdo?" I ask. It's so strange seeing him almost bald like this. Never thought I'd see a buzzcut on my brother, he's been dead obsessed with his hair since I can remember. It's never been shorter than to his ears. 

"S' looking good, isn't it?"

I don't like it at all. It's not even as worse as his Seventies hair phase.

He looks...he just looks too grown up. 

"You definitely look different" I mumble. He raises his head.

"Good different?"

There is a strange contradiction between this forced casualness and the strained uncertainty beneath it.