𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎/𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

𝟏𝟑 𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬

A/N 

Hello, loves. I'm sorry it's taken me a little longer than usual to get this update out, but I've been really busy with uni work for my final year!

Enjoy this chapter, and remember to let me know what you think! 

Hope you're all safe and healthy. 

Carys x

~~~

Soho, London, July 1974

The lights of the nightclub always made me slightly queasy, but once I got past that sixth glass of gin and lemon, the buzz was too intense for the lights. I got past the point of headache and nausea and gave into the slap bass of one disco track after the other. It was the dawn of disco, after all, and the Soho clubs gathered as many disco records as they could to push the genre. I wasn't mad at it.

"So, you're from up North?"

"Sure am," I winked sloppily at the raven-haired goddess I'd managed to pull.

"I rather like Northern accents, I won't lie," she had to shout slightly over the music. "I don't see a lot of northerners around here."

"We are a dying breed in the South," I sighed dramatically. "We're all hellishly difficult to get along with, and we can't say the word 'bath' without some kind of argument about it." The girl laughed, sipping on her cocktail.

"You seem nice, though, at least," she nudged me.

"Well, I try." I shrugged, grinning brightly. "Listen, I'm gonna go outside for a cigarette, if you want to join? And then... If you want, we can just head back to my place?"

Her face fell a little. "Oh, uh..."

Maria, this is not a gay bar. Stop it.

"I mean..." My own face fell. "I-I... Just because it's getting really crowded in here, y'know?" I chewed my lip. "Would be nice to have some... company. For once."

"Yeah, no." Raven head looked at me with what I can only describe as pity. Yes, pity. As though I needed it. "Have a good night." And with that, she glided past me, recoiling as much as she could as she passed me by. I downed the rest of the drink I had in my hand, grimacing at the pure alcohol that had settled at the bottom of my glass.

Yes, I definitely need a cigarette now.

I was so happy it was July. It would've been much too cold to stand outside in a short dress and no jacket. There was a pleasant breeze, which was much needed amid the heat of the club and the buzz of the booze.

I discarded of my empty glass on a random nearby table and made my way as quickly as possible to the smoking area at the back: a relatively small section of the club that was labelled 'smokers' in red writing, with generous ventilation along the ceiling.

As I sat there on one of the leather-effect sofas, one leg crossed over the other and my hair fanned out at my shoulders, right arm crossed over my front whilst my left rested atop, hand holding a cigarette by my face, I couldn't help but sneer at my own stupidity of coming out alone. Something about being alone that caused me to act irrationally. I was well aware of that flaw, but I had no idea what to do to subside it. Perhaps it was the subconscious need to be noticed, or my unhealthy desire for attention, regardless of how negative that attention could be. Go ahead, say it. I'm damaged, I'm aware.

I guess I did it to myself and I sat there feeling sorry about it, looking out across the sea of writhing people and—wait a minute.

My heart jumped in my chest as I took a drag from my fag.