catfish and the bottlemen imagines for rainy days + mondays

Drapetomania / Van

You held Vans head in your lap, combing your fingers through his hair, his eyes were open, fixed on the grey sky.

It was warm, one of those days where the air was damp and threatening a thunder storm. Van was trying not to cry. His eyes were read around the rims and you could see the tears there, could see the ache he felt. His jaw tense, his hands clenched holding the sleeves of his jumpers hostage over his fingers.
He was in trouble, totally lost, and you ached to cheer him up. To sooth him.

But hed said so a thousand times now. It was hopeless. He just felt totally helpless.

"Talk to me babe," you said quietly, twisting a loose lock of his hair around your finger. Admiring the structure of his face, the curve of his nose and the pout of his lips. He was on the verge of giving in and yet he still looked perfect to you, not that he'd accept it if you told him so.

"It's nothing love am just tired," he said but it wasn't, you knew that and he knew it was no use trying to pacify you with a line as throwaway as that, so he sighed and he smirked, cracked one of those bitter smiles and ran his hand through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "I am tired," he admitted then, "but its not just that,"

"Go on love," you said softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb, feeling all the tenderness in the world for him. The love of your life. You just wanted to protect him and keep him sheltered from everything. You knew you couldn't but if you could just pick him up and carry him off somewhere the two of you could hideaway forever then you would have done.

"Am just fuckin fed up with everything," he said, "keep hurtin everyone I love, keep fucking everything up... The band especially like... Everythings falling apart and a was so close to doing everything an now I don't know if I'll ever make it... Pushed all me mates away, am everyone's enemy right now..."

"You're not mine," you said, knowing it wasn't as bad as he thought it was anyway. People he'd fallen out with would come round. Everyone knew what he was like. Too passionate. Short temper. Over emotional. A classic Leo.

"You're probably next," he smirked looking defeated, irritating you then, your brow knitting together.

If you'd been anything like Van you'd have taken a comment like that entirely personally. You'd have probably picked a blazing row.

But you weren't like Van at all in that sense. You were the balanced one, the patient one, the calm and consistent one. Everyone always said they were glad he'd found a friend like you, always said he was going to need someone like you to lean on one day. You were certain that this was what they'd meant.

A lot of people had seen it coming.

The fallout, the disaster that struck during covid when all the lads were split up, when they were all forced to go home and Van found that he didn't really have a home to go back to.

He'd pushed everyone away, given up his youth for the band. Spent his 20s touring the world. Didn't really have anything left to show for all that now that the rest of the band had gotten a taste for their home life. Now that the other lads had realised they had other things they cared about, lives they wanted to lead, homes they wanted to make.

"That's not really your call to make is it love," you smirked shrugging his comment off, stroking his cheek with the back of your hand, your knuckles brushing over his stubble gently.

You cradled his head in your lap and leant against the garden wall, taking a cigarette out of your pocket.

"The fuckin label won't leave me alone, telling me I've gotta pull it all together, sayin if a don't start building bridges they're gonna pull out an all..."