On The Other Side | Nick O'Malley

21 | mysteries

I woke up that day feeling like I was floating.

I was standing in front of the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. This person in the mirror wasn't me. It looked like a bolder, happier version of myself. Healthier, almost. But that was probably my fuzzy thoughts romanticising everything.

After the movie, the two of us went back and forth sharing seemingly useless information about ourselves. He mentioned Sheffield, and I opened up about my family - my dad especially. I told him about his sickness and the weight of it all. He was still living a normal life at home with my mum, but I could see how it affected him physically. Despite that, I couldn't help the guilt building in my stomach every time I saw him. I wasn't even capable of making him proud - I'd understood by now. Nick nodded all along. At some point, he had kissed my temple and held me closer. I wasn't so sure if he heard me sobbing like an idiot, but I was grateful for his silence.

I spat into the sink and wiped my mouth with a towel before returning to the room. He had barely moved since I woke him up. I could still see that expression of satisfaction burrowing on his features, a dizzying sight even when he was still half-asleep. His forearm was held up, covering his eyes from the bright light in the room and stretching the material of his t-shirt over his stomach.

I smiled at myself as I crept to his closet and opened it. I dug through the shirts, but my eyes fell on the light summer dress I'd brought. The material itself begged me to choose it instead. I hesitantly took the hanger and held it in the air, pointing out all the positive and negative details if I wore it. I wasn't sure if I was ready to wear something like this again. What if someone's hand accidentally brushed my leg?

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice Nick's breathing softening.

"You should wear that."

I spun around at the sound of his drowsy voice. "Should I?"

He kept his arm held up but I could still see his smirk as he hummed in response.

I looked back at the dress for a second and decided to make an effort – or force myself for that matter.

I took off my t-shirt and shorts, scoffing when I turned my head around to find his arm held higher, just enough for him to watch clearly the scene in front of him. I could feel his eyes burning my back.

I slipped on the dress and smoothed it down, adjusting the collar and making sure no one would see my breasts. It was too hot outside to wear a bra anyway.

"Perfect," I heard him mutter, the word highlighted by his relaxed smile.

A sheepish smile tugged at my lips as I walked to take one of my cameras. The oldest I owned, and my favourite.

"You know what's even more perfect?" I questioned, climbing on the bed and looming over him.

His eyes flickered to the camera and he let out an annoyed groan, covering his face further.

"Nick, c'mon!" I pouted dramatically as I attempted to push his arm out of his face, but he didn't budge.

I stopped for a second, and, realising he was as stubborn as I was, decided to take the picture anyway.

I adjusted the lens and raised the viewfinder to my eye, frowning in concentration. There was a blinding white light and then the sound of the white polaroid surfacing. I pulled it out with a grin and waved it around to develop it faster. He was watching intently all the process, his breathing calm.

"Thank you," I muttered with pride, and leant down to give him a quick kiss.

He rolled his eyes with a smug smile and rolled over on his stomach as soon as I got up. I assumed he needed just a few more seconds of rest before the rehearsals, so I made my way out of the room and out of the flat, stuck into this fantasy.