Strawberries & Cigarettes (Teenlock)

OUTRO

A/N: Hey turts! 🐢 I just wanted to let you know that the lyrics which are in brackets are sung in the background. I have decided to leave it like that in the story too, but they are just as important for the plot. Basically just ignore the brackets, lol.
I am excited for you to read the LAST CHAPTER! I am thankful you are here <3

P.S.: listen to the song ;)
PPS.: i can't repeat myself often enough: please report n.ovelhd.com. It is a piracy website stealing stories from w.attpad (ignore the periods after the first letters, they are just here so their computers won't just automatically switch out the words) read more in my book "report n0velhd".

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This morning I woke up in a strange bed. And there was no one next to me. Damnit! I wanted to leave before the man I had spent the night with woke up!

Quickly I slipped into my pants and T-shirt and tried to sneak out without being seen. An attractive man with greying hair was standing in the kitchen, only wearing lose pajama pants, while brewing coffee. It smelled good, I was almost tempted to stay. But I couldn't – I didn't even remember the man's name. Was it George? Geoffrey? Graham? Definitely something with G...

"Do you want some coffee, John?", he asked, not even facing me. How had he seen me? I quickly stood up taller and tried to look less suspicious. Why did he remember my name? Oh my god, hopefully he didn't think this has been the start of something serious.

"Uh, no thanks. I actually gotta go." I picked up my coat from the floor where it was thrown to last night, soon forgotten.

It has been a great night with amazing sex. But that was it. Sex. No love, or affection, just... sex. I have always thought I wouldn't be able to do one-night stands because I would get too attached, but in the end the opposite was the case. I would sleep with a person but the next morning I would feel completely emtpy inside.

Geez! Look at me! I am standing in a strange man's living room, whose name I can't even remember, trying to sneak out without being seen. I have turned into a macho cliché! Well, the gay version of the macho cliché... but where was the difference anyways?

"Last night was great,...", Gilbert? What the fuck was his name? I had no idea. "Thank you, for everything.", I quickly added, without looking at him. I felt incredibly uncomfortable, I needed to get out of here. I didn't wait for him to say anything... I rushed out and quickly walked away.

On my way home, I felt my heart ache. For you. Not for him, not for anyone else... for you. When I stood in the living room, keys still in the hand, feeling unattached to everything in this little holiday flat I had rented, a rush of emotions swept over me. I missed you. I missed you so fucking much.

That's when it hit me: I needed to go home. I needed to see you. Not because I thought I could get back to you, but to tell you what you have done to me. I needed to see you so I could finally find some closure and move on with my life. Away from you.

I called a cab and got onto a last-minute plane to London.

Headlights, on me (and even if I run away)

I have been in Asia for months, and now I was back in London and driving faster than I should, faster than it was allowed. Why? I don't know, but things with you have never made sense to me.

There – I was making another insane overtake maneuver. I was either gonna end up dead or in jail. If I died would I end up in heaven or hell?

For a second I wondered where the innocent boy was, that I used to be before we met. He had been careful, sweet, happy. I was reckless, inconsiderate and depressed. I cut off another car and hoped I could somewhat be the old me again, after I have talked to you.