There's a knock at the door as you add the finishing touches to your makeup, running a mascara wand over your eyelashes.
"Coming!" You shout from the other side of your flat, briskly walking to get the door. Through the frosted glass, you know who it is. A tall figure, clearly dressed in a suit, stands leaning against your doorway. Sam.
It's your 1 year anniversary since you started dating, and Sam was determined to make it special. He wouldn't tell you what his plan was, only that dress code was "posh as owt", in his own words.
You rush to open the door, stomach fizzing with excitement, only for him to almost fall on you when the wood in front of him moves.
"Happy... anniversary pet," He mumbles, trying to regain his balance. Even in the few words he managed to say, you can tell he's ill. His voice is like sandpaper on a stone, eyes all red and droopy and he can barely stand. Sam's shuddering like it's freezing outside but sweat still drips from his forehead. There's a cold going around at the moment, and he looks like he could keel over at any minute.
"Jesus, Sam," You gasp, supporting him so that he can make it to your sofa where he flops down. You sit beside him, hands hovering like he could collapse at any minute, "You look like you're part of the Walking Dead."
He shivers, "I've booked... a table..." His voice trails off, struggling to keep his eyes open, let alone string a sentence together.
"I'll call the restaurant and cancel the reservation," You say softly, finding your phone.
Sam frowns, "Nah, it's our anniversary...I'll be fine."
"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" You say. In all 12 months you've been together, you've never seen him this pale. His skin is fair normally, but right now it's practically white. There's a dull sheen to him; the light of your flat reflects, making him look even worse.
He pouts, "No need to be rude. I'm not that bad. I'll survive."
"Babe, you're barely awake. Come on, lie back." You pat your thighs, encouraging him to listen to you.
He obliges with a frown, and leans backward to rest his head on your legs. "Suppose 5 minutes wouldn't hurt."
As his eyes close gently, you intertwine your fingers with his hair, playing with the thick curls of his perm. A tiny smile twitches at his lips as his body slowly descends into sleep.
Sam never admits when he's ill, determined to carry on until the bitter end no matter how detrimental it is to his health. He'll have been hiding this from you for about a week, hoping that it'll magically get better on its own, even with him working relentlessly to get his new album finished.
"Get some rest, love," You say quietly, "Sweet dreams."
🖤🤍🖤
An hour later and Sam just starts to wake up, "Mhm," He groans, squirming in your arms which are now around his shoulders.
"Hiya, sleepy," You whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Under your lips, it burns with a fever. He really is sick. "How're you feeling?"
"Like shit," He croaks, "Sorry I ruined our night."
You smile sadly, "You didn't ruin anything. I'd love just as much to spend our anniversary here as in a fancy restaurant. As long as I'm with you."
"You're too good for us," He murmurs, "Love you so much, y'kna."
"I love you too," You smile, "Even when you're all poorly and minging."
He grins, "Kiss for the dying?"
"I don't want your germs, Fender."
"Howay, I'll look after you if you get it? Come on, just a little one." He sits up, doing his best to reach your lips. "Please?"
His stupid irresistible face means you lean forward, your lips touching his, "You're bloody lucky I love you."
"Aw, that makes us feel special." He frowns, words dripping with sarcasm. Okay, he can't be that ill.
"You're sommat special, you are babe," You laugh, "Howay, go back to sleep; you looked wrecked."
Sam scowls, "But I wanna see you. We haven't even done presents or owt."
"Presents and then you have to go to bed, okay?" He's like a bloody child at times.
He grins, "Crack open some wine and you've got yourself a deal."
You roll your eyes, standing up to get a bottle from the wine rack, "Red or white?"
"Red," He props himself up on his elbows, fishing around in the inside pocket of his jacket (the same one he wore to his first BRIT awards ceremony and your first proper date), presumably for his present to you.
His is hidden in your bedroom, you finished wrapping it not long before he came, so you quickly nip to get the stack of boxes from behind your door.
"There's more at my place," He explains, passing you an envelope and a small box, "But it's too far to walk carrying them. Come over tomorrow, yeah?"
You nod, "You're sleeping here tonight though, right? Or let me walk you back?"
"I'll stop over. It is our anniversary after all," He wiggles his eyebrows, sniffing and coughing as he does so, "That was not as attractive as I hoped it was gonna be, was it?"
You kiss his cheek, "Not at all. Happy anniversary, my love."
"Just unwrap it for fuck's sake," He groans, taking a sip from his glass. Nights in with Sam are as lovely as nights out. Sometimes a nice bottle of wine, a movie, and a good cuddle are all you both want. Tonight is one of those times. "And happy anniversary, darlin'."
You open the envelope first. You were expecting just a card, but two skips of paper fall from it.
Arctic Monkeys
The Car Tour
2023
O2 Arena, Newcastle
VIP
"You didn't?" You grin, pulling him into a tight hug, "You shouldn't have, oh my God. It must've cost a fortune."
He shrugs, "Eh, you're worth it."
His face changes as you open the box, suddenly going pale again. Not in an ill way this time, more like the nervous look he has before a gig.
Inside is a key with a note attached to it.
21, Smokehouse 2,
North Shields
Smith's Dock
NE29 7BU
"It's cool if you say no or whatever," He fiddles with the buckle on his belt, doing anything to distract himself. "I just thought... yeah. I've already bought the place and if you fancy it, we could try living together."
You're basically living together already, both of you spending most nights a week sleeping in the same house. But a place that's your own with Sam? It's your dream.
You nod, "I'd love to."
A huge smile sweeps over his face, lighting it with joy, "My turn for presents now?"
"You're such a bairn," You roll your eyes, passing him his presents.
He opens his card first, and you've also hidden tickets inside of it, "Newcastle season tickets? VIP as well? God, I love you so much."
"You're adorable when you get presents," You laugh, ruffling his hair like you would if he was a small child. "Come on, open the rest."
"Fish hooks?" He frowns, "Does this mean we're actually gonna gan fishin?"
You smile, "You said you missed it. And you used to go with your dad all the time when you were a kid."
"You're class, you are," He grin, unwrapping the rest of the presents. You bought him loads of clean socks, because that's something he misses when he's on tour and a variety of alcohol and confectionary for when he's at home.
Your perfect life together was only just beginning.
