PLATFORMS ↛ D.A

Loved and Lost

Waterloo | 17:09pm

"I don't ask much of you." Amelia huffed, "It's not even like it's fuckin' difficult." Her eyes darting between him and the mirror where she was taming her wet hair. "Just leave the seat down, don't move my makeup and stop givin' me frights." She had been on a rampage this evening, every minor mishap was picked up and spat back out in Damon's face. Mind you, he didn't care.
In fact, he found it hilarious.

"I haven't moved anything." He failed to hold a laugh, blocking his face when she had thrown a hairbrush at him.

"N' that's another thing, you and my fuckin' hairbrushes." She eyed him through the mirror. "You move them too."

Damon scoffed, sitting down on the bed and watching as she fastened her bra. "Your tits look nice-"

"And you leave socks unpaired."

She smiled slightly, the dimples on her cheeks accentuated through tight lips. She knew that Damon was aware it was all a show, she wasn't actually a caged animal although it fucking seemed it at times. Tonight they were supposed to be going out, he teased it was a date but Amelia near threw up at the thought and instead decided to call it dinner. "D'you think these earrings are clapped?" She held them out, turning to face him.

"Think they're alright." He shrugged, falling back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. "What're you wearing?"

"Fuck knows, maybe summat black. Int' black a fit colour?"

Damon rubbed his cheek, eyes narrowing in thought. "You don't like navy?"

"Who the fuck likes navy?"

He scoffed, sitting up straight and looking at himself behind her in the mirror. As of recently, he had never taken time to admire Amelia.

The rush of the moment had forced it out of his head and he no longer physically appreciated her when emotionally she was a whole different ball game. But now, now as he caught eyes with her in their reflection it was a moment of realisation, a moment of knowing. Like a fucking achievement in a game, Damon had only now realised he had seen this woman in every light. Platinum rarity for her sadness episodes. Expectedly, she would ring his throat if she had clue that he was internally thinking of this viewing as an achievement.

"Y'staring at?" She powdered the make-up on her face, looking down to his lips as he blinked himself back into the moment.

"You."

"No chance, thought you was staring at a fuckin' poltergeist." He ignored her, leaning closer to sift through the products on the dresser. "Fuck sake, I knew that much. What about me? Do I look shite?" She swatted his hand away, turning to face him. "Ay?"

"You look nice." He bat her hand this time, stealing the mascara and sitting back to play with it like a child. "This," A laugh. "This is like shagging, see that stick thing going in and out." He fidgeted with it, pushing the wand back and forth from the bottle for a few seconds before he bored himself.

"Twenty-four." She mumbled.

"Only two years older than you." He countered.

"Ay, n' i'm not the one making fuckin' shagging jokes with a mascara."

Just as Damon was about to reply came a knock at the door, Amelia just about shitting herself at the loudness of it. "Damon, your mums here." Jamie cleared his throat from the other side, leaving Amelia to turn around fully and reach for her earlier discarded shirt - for once, looking to Damon with widened eyes, a smirk threatening her lip at his apparent shock.