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Damon Albarn was not her friend.
A strange unexplained relationship had formed between them - one that she wasn't going to even try to figure out. They seemed like friends, they got along better then they ever had before. Even enjoying each others company, something she never thought was possible.
However, there was a bridge between them that they could never quite cross. A distance (not physically because god knows Damon can't keep away) that kept them from being able to label themselves as anything more than roommates.
They would only spend time together when it was just them. She didn't accept any more offers to go out with his friends - even though he did ask her each time he planned to go meet them. She could see the disappointment on his face every time she said no. At first, he would pester her for at least five minutes trying to convince her. Now he just asked once, actually taking a hint.
It had nothing to do with Damon, it was just that his friends weren't exactly her cup of tea . . . and she takes tea very seriously.
After the whole 'tube illness incident', that had thankfully passed, Damon had started spending nights (when he was home) in her bed. Saying that it was 'comfier than his'. Something she was pretty confident that 'friends' didn't do - though, she never really had any before (not close ones anyway) so she could be wrong.
She argued with him, very pathetically, and almost immediately gave in. Having someone beside her was comforting, head resting on his chest and listening to his heartbeat sent her straight to sleep. It would always be after a movie or, if it was a particularly tiring day of work, straight after dinner. His hand stroking her hair, whispering to her that she looked 'very pretty', with an arm wrapped around her helped too. He didn't just say it because he was half asleep but he had been complimenting her a lot more recently - even more than he before.
Sometimes she thought that Damon just pretended to be tired so that they could go to bed early and he could sneak in a couple extra hours of cuddling with her. They'd talk another random things (mainly Damon talking) until eventually one of them fell asleep (usually Francesca).
The issue was when Damon wasn't home.
He had been going out a lot more recently - she assumed he was just growing bored of staying inside all of the time. He used to constantly be going out after work and coming home a drunken mess. Most of the time not even making it to his room and falling asleep on the sofa, occasionally on the floor by the front door if he was particularly drunk.
He was never that bad now, but still drunk enough to not realise how loud he was being when he stumbled in; often waking her up.
She usually spent those nights tossing and turning - trying to find a position that she liked with fail each time. The bed felt too big, she had too much room and still couldn't find a space that was comfortable. Even if she did find a pillow placement that was bearable, slowly forcing herself to shut off her brain and sleep, Damon would be coming home and disturbing the peace . . . and usually not alone.
