summary: Perrie is always overly worried about you, but sometimes you can't meet up to the standard of telling her everything you are doing.
contains: -swearing -anxiety
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I stare down at the counter in disbelief, mentally slapping myself in the face, noticing the stupid mistake I had made. The hot steam from the neatly set out plates rose up into the air, making the food look that extra special, however the clock on the wall the the right read just before seven at night. I prepared mine and Y/n's dinners for when she gets back from her recording studio, totally forgetting about the twenty minute walk she had back to our house.
I groan, taking the plates in my hands and shoving the back into the oven, slamming the door in anger. I held my head in my hands hoping that I could use some kind of couples telepathy to tell my girl to pick up the pace, so she didn't have the crappy microwaved version of our meal.
7:34pm read the clock. The anxiety that something had happened to her was already creeping on me, I noticed my head beginning to rattle at twenty-two past, but I managed to occupy myself up until now. The everyday anxiety I had now turned into shaky hands and a clouded brain. I pick up my phone checking for any phones or texts again, but the last notification read 7:18pm from Instagram, melladazeband added to their story.
Another three minutes went by before I clicked call on her contact, only for it to get to the end of the ring and I got sent to her voicemail. I listen closely, thinking if the harder I listen, the more real her voice might become, almost like she was right in front of me, safely in my arms. I never get sent to the voicemail, maybe once or twice when she's mad at me, but I knew she was safe those other times. I call again, sending her a verbal message at the end of the voicemail and then ring again just to be sure.
My eyes wandered around the room, suddenly stopping at the oven and the two plates that could be seen behind the tinted glass. One last look at my notifications and I put my phone in my pocket and head over to the oven taking out on of the plates and putting it on the dining table. My hand shook against the fork. After taking the first bite I come to realise I was no longer starving, the pasta stayed still in my mouth as I numbly chewed on it until it was gone, but even then I wanted to throw it back up. I twirled the fork around, trying to concentrate on how long this took me to make, but Y/n's name seems to be glued at the front of my mind.
I bring my knees up to my chest and take my phone out again, scrolling through my contacts trying to find Y/n's producer, Oli, that she would have definitely been in the studio with, but I come to another road block as I find out I never added his number. I groan and set my phone down, resting my head on top of my knees and closing my teary eyes. My head was heavy and ached, my stomach churned with worry and my hands shook vigorously. Every possibility of what could happen to my girl clouded my mind until I couldn't think of anything else anymore. Tears welled in my eyes making the clock too blurry to read clearly, but i knew whatever time it was it has been too long.
Keys rattled in the lock, but I didn't even bother to look and continued to scroll through the pointless feeds on my phone, thinking that it was just another hallucination of Y/n being home until the large front door opened and a cool breeze ran through the open room. A happy-looking Y/n stepped through the door. I almost slammed my phone on the floor as I ran from the couch over to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, holding her as close as possible.
"Oh my fucking god where have you been?" I ask, my voice cracking as tears came to my eyes again.
"I- what? I've been at the studio baby I told you," she said sounding pretty confused, but one of her hands caressed down my back giving me a little extra comfort, "I decided to stay for an hour longer because I-"
"With no calls or texts, you know I worry about you!" I accidentally cut her off, breaking away from the the hug instead placing my hands on her shoulders.
"My- my phone died and I didn't bring my charger I told you it broke!" she raised her voice on the last part, clearly becoming annoyed at something, "Oli told me you'd be shitting yourself, but I didn't think you would be this bad."
She removed my hands from her shoulders and walked past me, leaning down to get the phone charger already plugged into the wall. I crossed my arms looking at her, I didn't know what to do or say. She needed it in her head to never do that again, but after having a go at her I knew she wouldn't be calm about it.
"Yeah Oli was right, clearly he understands communication unlike you, there's plenty of other solutions for informing me on what you are doing, you know my number you could have asked him to text me, or maybe inform me about your phone dying in the morning, so it wouldn't cause me that much worry when you are not responding!"
I spoke my mind, yet part of me regretted what I said when Y/n looked down to her feet in guilt, just as she started to form her smile again after cracking up at her own joke, "right, sorry," she spoke half-heartedly.
As she walks away I watch her, but soon she's up the marble stairs out of my sight. Her dinner sat (now cold) in the fridge covered in cling-film, which I had forgot to tell her about. I sank back into the couch, relaxing my head on the arm rest trying to get rid of my headache before I went upstairs to find my girlfriend.
She sat on our shared bed on her phone with her headphones in smiling to herself, she didn't acknowledge me until she felt the bed sink in as I crawled towards her and sat right by her. She didn't flinch when my hand placed over hers, or when I rested my head on her shoulder like she would after a usual argument. Her screen showed her voicemail app, I noticed straight away the two voice messages I had sent her earlier and how they had been set to 'read', however in between that was from Oli, and it was the one she was listening to.
"What is it?" I ask with a small laugh.
Y/n didn't reply, but instead disconnected her headhones placing them on the dresser beside our bed, "I recorded part of a song today, i'm really proud of it, I wanted to tell you earlier, but- you know."
I was confused at first, taken back by the topic, but soon remembered the other day and our conversation about her not knowing how to show me the work she's done at her studio as she kept it on her files over there. Her finger hovered over the button implying she was about to play it, but it took her a little while, even after I connected our hands together and cuddled further into her. She seemed nervous about it, and I could tell their were doubts flowing through her mind.
"It's about- no, never mind just listen," she said, pressing the voice message from Oli.
It took a while for the song to start, Oli's yorkie accent came through the speakers as he struggled to find the button he needed. Y/n's giggle could be heard in the back as she laughed at her co-writer. The quiet sound brought butterflies to my stomach, remembering the past couple of hours and how numb I felt and my overdramatic brain kept referring to our special memories as the 'last time'.
