now that we don't talk [tom blyth]

26.

The white powder was lined up on the sink bench, the four of us crammed into the bathroom and taking turns to crouch over and snort up a line. Mia had already decided we would get an Uber home and had joined in, not without a few shots from the flask tucked in Ryan's pocket. As I felt myself lose control a little more, I started to forget about the buzzing of my phone in my handbag. I lost myself in laughter and alcohol that moved from the bathroom out to the back garden. We were sat around one of the garden tables, passing around the flask and telling jokes.

The afternoon flew by, or maybe it was just the substances in my body convincing me, and it wasn't long before Mia and I were hauling ourselves into an Uber heading back to my place. My head fell against the window, the city trailing on around us until the driver told us we were back home.

Mia found my spare bedroom and wasn't seen after the door shut. I dragged myself to my bedroom slowly, my hands finding the wall to guide myself there and not lose my feet beneath me. I eventually found the door and slide in, shutting it behind me and collapsing on the bed. My eyes shut almost immediately before flying open at the ringing of my phone. I groaned, rustling across the bed to find my bag and pry it out. 

"Hello?" I groaned, not even checking who it was calling before answering.

"Kira! Are you okay?" I noticed Tom's frantic voice and it snapped me from the daze I felt I had been in for hours. I sat up on the bed, working to slip my shoes off with my feet.

"Yeah, sorry, yes I am," I said with guilt in my voice and heard him sigh in relief. "I had a bit to drink and just forgot about my phone."

"I was so worried," he whispered and my heart fluttered at his confession.

"I am so sorry," I whispered back. Silence fell over us, one more comfortable than before. One full of feelings of desperation to be together again.

"How was your Christmas?" I asked, my eyes fluttering open and closed, desperate for me to let my body sleep.

"It was lovely. Mum made a big roast dinner, the whole family came. It was really nice." He spoke with a smile, one I couldn't see but I could hear his grin when he spoke about his family. He always spoke highly of them, especially his mom. "Would have been nicer if you were here though."

My cheeks flushed red and I pressed my face into the duvet on the bed, holding back a small scream at his sweet comment. Maybe it was the alcohol but I felt the butterflies in my stomach grow stronger. We spoke on the phone for a bit longer before I fell asleep with the phone beneath my ear, only just hearing Tom wish me a goodnight.

-

My head felt like it was going to burst through my skull, the pulsating feeling being almost unbearable as I pulled myself from bed and into the kitchen to get some Panadol. I gripped the tip of my nose as I swallowed it with water, trying to relieve some of the pressure in my head. Nothing was working, and as the white tablets went down my throat I felt a wave of nausea go through my body. I swallow deeply, trying to keep them down so as not to see them back in the kitchen sink.

From the other room, I could hear my phone ringing and I groaned at the sound. It only made the pain in my head grow stronger as the sound echoed through the house. My feet dragged along the hardwood floors as I pulled myself back into my bedroom to pick up the phone. As I did, I noticed Tom's name on the screen.

"Hi," I said, wincing as my head pulsed in pain.

"Hi gorgeous, how you feeling?" He said with a light chuckle in his voice. I groaned at his teasing.

"Shut up, I am fine." Tom just laughed.

"Whatever you say, my dear. Anything planned for today?" He asked softly.

"Rotting in bed, I think," my voice was muffled by the pillow that I had planted my face into. Tom laughed again before silence fell over us. It was comfortable and it meant that the noise of his voice wasn't making my head hurt anymore.

"Can I asked you a question?" his voice was gentle and quieter than before, less teasing and more comforting. I hummed. "How are you feeling about the other day?"

"When?"

"When the pictures and the article came out?" I sighed in response.

"It's bad, Tom. I've tried to avoid it but I keep catching glimpses of it."

Every time I had opened my phone, there was something that was said about me. Twitter, Instagram, for those who slipped through before I went private, and every media outlet possible. Except Variety, thankfully. No one in the office had done me dirty yet. I wasn't even sure if work had found out yet. I am not sure how they would feel about me publically dating someone I interviewed for their site, or whether it would mean I would lose my job over it. I was praying all would be well when I returned to work next week, but it was a lingering anxiety that had been shoved to the bottom of my worries with everything that had happened with Tom leaving.

"Oh," he said quietly, another silence falling over us. His voice was laced with guilt and shame and I knew that would be exactly what he was feeling. Last time, there was one girl that followed him that saw me comment on his post and she immediately sent me death threats. No one knew we were dating, and even from what I commented you wouldn't have guessed we were romantic with each other. Nonetheless, she told me that if I came anywhere near Tom she would put me in hospital. News for her but he was in my bed when she sent that.

I didn't want to seem like I couldn't handle it. I didn't want to give him a reason to leave me and find someone who was able to deal with the hate, the articles, the pictures, the paparazzi, the lifestyle, all of it. Although I liked my little life of going to work, writing my silly articles, interviewing cool people and going home, the reality of being wrapped up in the not-so-good side of it scared me, and it scared me for what it meant for our relationship.

"What are you thinking about?" his voice cut through my thoughts but didn't stop the tears that were welling in my eyes. I didn't want to cry, I didn't want Tom to feel bad for me for how stupid I was being over nothing. I felt this mix of guilt and anger of it, and I despised how much I felt like I had two choices - stay with Tom and deal with it all, or leave and go back to being a somewhat normal person.

"I don't know," I lied, sinking deep into my bed and wanting it to swallow me whole. I didn't want any of this, I didn't want to feel like this and I didn't want to talk about it any longer. "When do you fly home?"

I heard him sigh at me changing the topic. I waited for him to bring me back on track, back to what we were discussing and find an end result, but more than likely he heard me speak through tears and I knew how much he hated seeing me cry. "Next Wednesday."

It was too long. Too long to be without him any longer, and too long to well in my own self-pity until he got back. I hated feeling like I depended on him this much. In fact, I despised that I didn't feel like my own person and that my life depended on him. I had everything set up for myself, a good job, good life, friends, and he came back in and I feel like I had lost it all and given him everything. Now, I was sat crying over people saying I am a fat, ugly slut and he deserves better and I can't help but agree. Part of me also thinks I deserved better, to get back to myself and not throw myself into this ever-changing lifestyle that was only going to get worse with his popularity going up.

I had choices and I didn't know which one to make.