𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧 ✯

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

Wednesday, November 9th
01:49am 1994

"Don't you fucking touch her," Damon spits in the man's face.

We're matching with our bleeding noses.

I can't even comprehend what is happening right now. Or what's going to happen after this.

Seeing as this whole scene has seemed to attract more paparazzi to us, Damon and I both sense that we need to leave, and fast.

Damon is quick to grab my hand, he points at one of the many taxis heading to the rank.

He leans down to my ear, "The black one?"

I don't even need to ask questions, we both hurry towards the car pulling up in the taxi rank.

We reach the car, Damon still not letting go of my grip.

The taxi-driver quickly rolls down his window, Damon holds the ledge of the window, "Can you get us to the Halcyon Hotel?"

God that's fancy.

Even the driver looks surprised as he gives us a thumbs up.

Quickly, Damon opens the passenger door for me, "Ladies first," I slip in and he does right behind me.

We get in, absolutely exhausted, our chests heaving up and down, my nose still running.

"You okay?" Damon asks once he's sat.

I swiftly nod and it seems to put him a bit more at ease

The paparazzi are banging on the window, desperate for some sort of answer, anything. I mean this may be the most eventful night of their year.

"Hey, mate, do you have any tissues? The lady's nose is bleeding," Damon leans forwards towards the driver, his hands gripping the two front seats to hold him up.

"Uh, yeah, I think, one sec." The driver responds in a shaky voice. He must be nervous. Trying to escape the crazy reporters, he's probably noticed who we are by now.

He goes into the small storage area in front of the passenger seat behind him and brings out a packet of tissues. These things only hold five small pieces of paper but it'll have to do for now.

Damon grabs them from the man as soon as there in his shaky hands.

He rips them open, scooting closer to me and cleaning up my face.

I lock eyes with him whilst stuffing a tissue up my nose and realise how bizarre this situation is.

We can't help but burst out laughing in a fit of drunken giggles.

"Fucking hell," he says as he leans back into his seat, finally relaxing now that the paparazzi are gone.

"So much for not getting seen together," I sigh, dab at my nose.

"Let me help," Damon says, moving even more up the seats to get closer to me. He takes a new tissue and wipes around my cheek now. "You got a bit-" he cleans up my face, pulls his hand away and smiles.

"How do I look," I smile back, trying to forget the fact that my mascara is probably running along with the rest of my makeup and that I most likely look like shit.

The dirty blonde boy pauses for a moment "Beautiful,"

I feel like someone just punched my gut. And all of a sudden I feel really nervous. I feel my cheeks heat up and go pink as Damon looks at me. His eyes a deep blue shade, their beauty makes me feel like mine are nothing to his. Like his are the only in this world and the most precious and it unnerves me even more that they eyes are in fact looking at me.