duran duran imagines

last christmas - john taylor

Early December, 1984

The smell of old book pages and hot chocolate filled my senses as I entered the bookstore on my corner. The door shut out the bitter cold of early December, and I shivered as I began walking around, gazing at the old and battered spines of books from past years.

I ended up ordering a hot chocolate and sitting down with a book that had caught my eye. I have always been a reader. I've loved books since I was a little girl, and I've kept reading ever since.

But soon enough I finished my hot chocolate and a few chapters, so I decided to look around a bit more before buying the book and heading home.

———

As I walked through the wall of books on shelves, I saw someone ahead of me, gazing at a book. I ran my fingers along the spines of books, and when the person turned to see who was behind them, my heart dropped.

John.

I stopped dead in my tracks, nearly dropping my book, and we looked at one another for a minute, not knowing what to say. I felt my heart bang against my chest, and my words conveniently left me.

John and I had a history together, if you will. At times, not the best one. And as I stared blankly at him in front of old books, our relationship's end replayed in my mind.

It was early December, and I couldn't wait to spend our first Christmas together with John. I had been out looking for a gift for him, but was unsuccessful. I was a little disappointed, but I felt something would come up.

As I walked up our front porch, I had a smile on my face. I was still excited to come home to John after being out in the cold. I opened the door, and you can imagine the look on my face when I saw John's lips locked with another woman's.

My jaw and heart dropped simultaneously, and I just stood there, feeling sick while watching this girl swap spit with my boyfriend. Soon, my anger kicked in. "John!" I exclaimed, and he immediately got off the couch along with the girl, and he looked like a deer in headlights, while I looked like an angered fox.

I yelled at the girl—who was shirtless, may I add—to get out, and she scurried away, her cheap blouse and old handbag leaving with her. Once the door closed, the dam broke loose on John.

"John, what the hell?! How could you do such a thing?! I thought you were better than that!" I yelled at him, and he stood there, looking like he was about to plead his innocence. "I'm sorry," He stuttered out. I scoffed. No way.

"Oh shut up," I snapped, "Look, if you're gonna be a cheating drug addict, you can leave. We're done." I told him, and he looked almost scared. He began pouring out apologies and begging for forgiveness, but I kept yelling at him to get out.

He eventually did, telling me that he could come back whenever to collect his stuff, and he told me he was a phone call away if I changed my mind. I told him I wouldn't and slammed the door. I was mad, sad, and a strange mix of indifference.

So, I was at a lose for words. I had given him my heart and he went and shattered it. I looked down at the book I was planning to buy, and back up to take in John's appearance. Last time I saw him he was wearing a white sweater and leather pants. He had nonchalantly told me he had a shoot later that day, but that he had made time for me, to collect his stuff, that is.

Now, he had a long black coat over his clothes, concealing his full appearance. His hair appeared to be black or a very dark brown and his bangs were washed with a sort of platinum blond. Any other time, and I would've blushed and melted, but right now I couldn't bring myself to do anything.

What was I supposed to do? Say, 'hey John, it's been a while—wanna catch up?'

No way. That would be too arrogant of me. What if John didn't even want me back? Could I live with that? Maybe.

But also maybe not.

"Fancy meeting you here," John said, breaking the dusty silence with the old cliché. Something within me wanted to scoff, but I didn't. The last thing I wanted to do in front of John after a year of being apart was scoff. I swallowed thickly, desperately thinking of a decent response.

"Yeah," That's it? Just a yeah? Idiot! Think of something else, something with more substance, something more literate. Show John that you've been great without him! Don't let him know the nights you've cried yourself to sleep remembering him.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" I added, though I knew it sounded better in my head. But John didn't seem to think otherwise, so maybe I was okay? 

"Mm, it has," He said, testing the waters by showing a small smile. I desperately wanted to smile back, but a part of me wanted to be petty and not give him the satisfaction of seeing my smile after a year. Both decisions sounded dodgy. I'd just have to pick on the spot.

I smiled.

"How's your band?" I began, "How's Duran Duran?" I quickly added when I realized I sounded too dry and forgetful. My brain and mouth were starting to go out of sync, but John didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he just wasn't paying attention to it.

"Good, yeah, our tour has kinda come to an end," John explained, and all I was able to do was nod. I didn't necessarily want to tell him just yet that I hadn't stopped listening to his band's music and seen their shows. I wasn't playing 'we're not together anymore, so that means I don't care about you or your band.' Obviously, that wasn't true.

Ever since we split, I've thought about him all the time. He's hardly ever left my thoughts. I've had to put the photo on our bedside table of us smiling together in the closet because of the times I've looked at it and started to cry.

John was my everything. I couldn't believe he had it in him to double-cross me. I thought he had a heart of gold. But back then our love was shiny and new, so I was enticed by his smile and rockstar status that I didn't bother with the consequences. I didn't stop to think about the possibility that rockstars can be unreliable. John seemed too pure to be like the others.

Then again, I had never asked for a straightforward explanation as to why he cheated. Then again, did I actually want to know the answer? He could give me a lot of reasons why, and the ones I could think of didn't seem too friendly.

John's eyes looked so unsure when I shyly glanced into them. In all my honesty, he overall seemed unsure. And I didn't blame him. I was too. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I feared he'd take them wrong.

"Um," John cleared his throat. I could tell he was at a loss for words, not knowing how to talk to me normally. He glanced down to the old book in his hands, and then to mine in my hands. "You still read?" He asked, and his eyes immediately darted to his right, seemingly cursing himself for asking such a dry question.

"Yeah, I do," I said, subtly smiling his way in a meager attempt to calm his worries that I sensed he was having. We had only had a year together, but it seemed to give me enough time to figure him out, and understand him.

His eyes darted back to mine, and he smiled sheepishly, his teeth poking out slightly. I felt like we were already starting to click back into place, but I knew there were a lot of rough edges. I knew couldn't immediately come back to each other, but I knew that if we tried, and took things slow, we could.