Will We Talk?

43- Work

January and February flew over, the last day of February being today. I'd been keeping myself busy as Sam does bits and bobs with the album and new songs, travelling from studio to studio, hence why we haven't moved into the apartment yet.

One thing I was shocked I was doing so frequently was going to the gym again, even though that man who tried asking me out for drinks still pestered me. The gym was great in strengthening my core and legs for the odd pointe lesson Tyler gave me. He even convinced me to teach the younger years dance so I don't have to search for a job, to which I agreed. Mainly because I wanted money doing something fun before I spent it all on my degree. I make a decent amount, but when I go off to university, it'll be hard keeping a good schedule so I don't plan on teaching for long. I guess he gave me the job because no one else wanted it- they were hard work.

Additionally, I've began to write music again, putting my GCSE to work and actually succeeding. So far, I'd mastered what they call the power chord on the electric guitar I bought myself. Plus, I can play Wonderwall on my acoustic, so now I'm basically a guitar god.

The new apartment was used as my own studio, where I spent most of my afternoons. I'd moved my keyboard from mam and dad's to mine, buying a stand and some pedals for it. So far, I'd began writing a song called 'Get You Down' but it really doesn't make sense yet. I just wrote down all of the flaws to Sam and I's relationship and how insecurities can lead to conflict between partners. Something relatable, I hope. Usually, I'd show my songs off to Sam, but this one didn't feel right quite yet.

Speaking of Sam, I rarely ever saw him much, the BRITs being an exception. Basically, I just saw him on a night time when he was black out drunk from being at the Low Lights for so long. Its honestly exhausting. Some nights, I physically have to drag him back home after getting a text from Dean or Tom or any of the lads, saying he's had one too many again. Don't get me wrong, I love going out and getting shitfaced, its culture, but when its constant and taking up work time, I can't stand it. Fine. Have one or two while making music, I certainly do. But don't go for more afterwards, especially when you have an over-thinker for a girlfriend at home.

There was one song, however, that I had properly finished in 2018 and was waiting for people to feedback on it. One of those people being Sam. Here we are, living together and he hasn't took one moment to listen to me. Not too long ago, I invited the girls around (Rylee, Fran and Yvonne) to see what they thought of it.

*****

"I just want yous to tell me what you think. This isn't anything I want to say, just letting yous know, its from a character's perspective." I explained, cracking my fingers.

Yvonne tutted, slumping further on the single settee in the room, "Don't explain yourself."

"Reet. This is 'wish you were gay'. I started writing it in year 10, finished how it sounds last year." I explained, coughing before picking up my acoustic, strumming the tune I'd created.

"'Baby, I don't feel so good', six words you never understood
'I'll never let you go', five words you'll never say
I laugh along like nothing's wrong, four days has never felt so long
If three's a crowd and two was us, one slipped away
I just wanna make you feel okay
But all you do is look the other way
I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay
I just kinda wish you were gay
Is there a reason we're not through?
Is there a 12-step just for you?
Our conversation's all in blue
11 'heys'
Ten fingers tearin' out my hair
Nine times, you never made it there
I ate alone at seven, you were six minutes away
How am I supposed to make you feel okay
When all you do is walk the other way?
I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay
I just kinda wish you were gay
To spare my pride
To give your lack of interest, an explanation
Don't say I'm not your type
Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation
I'm so selfish
But you make me feel helpless, yeah
And I can't stand another day
Stand another day
I just wanna make you feel okay
But all you do is look the other way, hmm
I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay
I just kinda wish you were gay".

"So?" I looked up, accepting that they didn't really enjoy it. Their faces said it all, each on the edge of their seats and looking at me with wide eyes and opened mouths.

"Wow." Rylee guffawed, "When were you gan tell us you can sing like that?"

Thank fuck.

"That was incredible, Evie." Fran joined, rubbing my thigh in reassurance.

Yvonne smiled, "You never fail to show us all up, do you?"

I released a breath I never knew I was holding, all of my emotions exiting my body.

*****

"Fucks sakes, Sam. What the fuck happened to you?" I gasped as the man stumbled through the door, clutching his abdomen. A bruise sat from the top of his forehead down to his chin and his knuckles were red raw. The warning signs said it all, "You didn't."

He just shrugged, "I'm fine."

"You're fooling no one babe. Take a seat, I'll get you cleaned up." I examined him head to toe from my spot on the sofa, my glasses sat atop my head, "Howay over."

"Evie man, get off me case, I divnt need you telling is what to do. I'm a grown man." he snapped, limping into the bathroom.

Whoopie. Huffy Sam has made an appearance again, and I get the stick of it all. Its pathetic. He's pathetic, I'm pathetic. In the end, we'll make up, we always do, but why were the arguments so frequent nowadays? What was I doing wrong?

After a while of him being in the bathroom, I heard a loud clatter, thud and eventually small callings of my name.

"Shit" was all I could mutter as I rose from the sofa, rushing into the bathroom, "Sam?" I shrieked, pounding incessantly on the door.

"Can't get up." he struggled.

Uh oh. Is this the turning point for drunk Sam?

Immediately, I ran to get the closest coin or object that could turn the lock from the outside. As soon as I found a 2p coin, I sprinted to the bathroom, sliding off to the side with my socks against the slippy floor. My plan was working, it knacked my fingers, but it eventually worked.

And there I saw him on the floor, laid out in a funny position with a bath of blood around him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. What's up?" I reacted, squatting to his level, caressing his obviously tender knuckles.

"Some geezer recognised is and asked for money, I said no and he had me on the ground. Ow." he admitted, curling over into a ball, "I tried fighting back, but he just kept kicking is. God, I'm never gan drink again, I'm so sorry Evie."

"Sammy, divnt be saying sorry now. You're in a state man, I'll clean you up. Can you try and stand for me?" I insisted, holding my hands out and grabbing his wrists to pull him up.

"You need to stop drinking so much." I said as I examined his freshly cleaned face, lightly touching his bruise which he hissed slightly at.

"I kna. Mam's telt is in all. Made is feel proper bad about it all. Sorry for treating you like shit." he croaked, his eyes squinting in agony.

"That's gan hurt in the morning, might have to stay with me all day." I suggested, looking at his bare torso that was washed a black and blue.

"Sounds class." he hummed.

"Let's get to bed then, eh? Nice early night." I sighed as we linked elbows.

It was an early night- half 10 to be exact- but was I going to bed too? Absolutely not. It was a Thursday and my programmes were on, so I sat in solace and watched those before heading to kip myself.