Oblivion- a Dan Smith Fanfic

PART ONE

Ok so I just reread this, and if you are reading this I just want to say IT DOES GET BETTER, at around Part Four... I think 13 year old me thought she was a lot better at writing than she was.. So yeah this will be undergoing editing when I'm closer to finishing the fic (which I'm not at all) but yeah hopefully Part Five's a lot better than this!

PART ONE

"Nem? Nem..." Sophie's voice breaks me out of my reverie. I look around vaguely, trying to focus on what she was saying.

"Sorry, I..." my mind starts wandering again as the outside world fades out. I play absently with chords in my head as my mind takes me on a journey through a world of colors and music.

"Nem! Will you listen to me for once?!" she manages to pierce through the mural of my mind.

I feel bad after I fall into these accidental moments, but I can't help it. My mind just suddenly decides to take me away sometimes. Actually more than sometimes. I'm about to fall in again so I glue my eyes to Sophie's face in an effort to anchor myself to the real world, but it's no use. My eyes cloud over and her face is just a blur behind the nothing that has become my everything. This time I find it hard to even remember that I'm meant to be trying to escape, even though this is my escape. When I manage to break free, I'm standing in the library alone. Sophie must have left. She always gets annoyed when I'm out too long... I check my watch. Ten minutes isn't that long, is it? I guess it is after what happened this morning. We'd only just made up... I look around, noticing the eerie lack of people studying. I check my watch again.

"Shit!" The university library shut at nine... Ten minutes ago.

I run to the doors, but they're locked. It's no use shouting, campus is too far away and no one stays at the library til nine anyway. I bang my head against the door and get my phone out, meaning to text Sophie. It's out of charge. Great. She probably wouldn't come anyway, and even if she did what could she do? I go over to one of the comfy study chairs and tilt my head to the side in disbelief of my situation. I remember the events of this morning and wish I'd tried harder during our conversation.

This morning, me and Sophie were sitting together in our English Lit. class and I hadn't done the homework again so Soph let me copy hers. I was made to read it out, and then he asked if I'd copied. Of course I would've said yes, and I'm not just saying that, but I was already on report- it was a good university, and they didn't want to "waste their time with lazy kids" like what I was "showing myself to be". One more thing and I would've been kicked out. So I said no, and everything would've been fine except Soph had to read hers out as well, and he thought she'd copied me. Now she's got a tiny little blemish on her otherwise exemplary record and yes I do feel bad but what was I supposed to do?

To stop myself thinking about it, I grab the nearest book from the shelf. It's a Maths textbook and I chuck it back in disgust. I walk over to the seats by the huge glass wall and sit down, gazing out at the darkness outside. The thought of having to spend the night here doesn't bother me that much, apart from the fact that I have nothing to eat.

I close my eyes and feel the pulse of something, an idea, a thought, waiting to created and emerge from the ashes. I take out my sketchbook and start drawing, keeping my eyes tightly shut and allowing my hand to trace the image barely formed in my mind. I don't know how long I'm like this, but when I feel it's done I open my eyes and instantly suck in my breath in shock. Someone sitting opposite me is watching me intently. I don't know if he was there before or if I just didn't notice him, but now I have I can't seem to look away. His eyes, the clearest blue I've ever seen, are gazing right into my soul, or that's what it feels like anyway. His dark hair is wildly styled into some kind of quiff, and his perfectly chiseled face seems to conceal hundreds of secrets. He's wearing his college jacket and dark jeans, and when I glance down I notice that he's resisted the latest trend and, like me, he's stuck to converse. For a moment he looks down, embarrassed, but he lifts his head almost as soon as he dropped it and looks up at me from under his eyelashes, making my heart melt.