Days With Christian

two | hiraeth

|| for safi, because she wrote through his eyes (and i fangirl every time i see her on my followers' list) ||

hiraeth (n.) - homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.

MAX'S HANDS GRIP my waist lightly as Elvis Presley plays in the background.

Take my hand, take my whole life too...

My mind involuntarily reels to long, gangly limbs and tripping feet. I fight to keep the tears at bay as beer-stained lips and Calvin Klein cologne clouds my senses. And as Presley's voice floats in the room I can almost feel his lips brushing my ear as he sings the words (his singing was worse than a wailing hyena's).

For I can't help falling in love with you.

When I look up to meet my best friend's eyes, brown and green merge and for a second it's Christian with sweat matting his hair and mouth stretched into a smile that's impossibly wide and borderline ridiculous.

"Emmy," and just like that I'm brought back to reality. I roll my lips, and press my face against the soft fabric of Max's suit, because-God-I miss him. I'm trembling, with eyes squeezed shut. Max presses feather light kisses to the top of my head, "it's alright, baby girl."

But it's not. And sometimes I wonder if it ever is going to be. I'd almost believed I was alright, I hadn't cried once in the past week-until tonight, as my friends danced with their significant others. Max had left Nick with a few other friends and dragged me to the dance floor. I danced for a while even laughed a little, until Presley started playing unleashing the deluge of memories I'd desperately locked in box and shoved to the farthest corner of my head.

Max's fingers lock around my wrist, he guides me towards a large door that leads to a balcony. With a nudge of his palm, he pushes the door open, ushering me outside. Cool New York air envelops me and I fall into one of the chairs adorning the area around me.

"I'm sorry." I sniff, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. "I ruined your night," when I lift my head to look at him, my eyes fall on the dark and wet patch on his shoulder, "and your Armani."

Max drops on his knees, his fingers filling the gaps between mine. "Shut up, you idiot."

"I just-" a sob replaces my next words. I yank my hand away from Max's, covering my face. "This is pathetic." My voice sounds hoarse and scratchy.

"Moro mou," his voice is soft as his hands reach to uncover my face. "It's not pathetic. You are going to miss him, doll. It's human." His lips curl up, eyes dancing with mischief, "I'm not blaming you anyway, he was one hot piece of meat."

Max had seen Christian a few times, he had been in London for some business at the same time that I had been there.

"Your hot piece of meat is waiting inside for you," I roll my eyes before wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands. "You've been with me the entire night. I don't want Nick hating me."

"Bullshit, Nicholas adores you."

"I'm going to sit out here for a while. Go inside," I tilt my head towards the door, "have fun."

"Twenty minutes. If I don't see you, I'll come back to drag your cute little butt inside, enta'ksi? "

"Yes, Dad."

Max's fingers tuck loose strands of my hair behind my ear. He presses a fleeting a kiss to my forehead. "Twenty minutes. That Alexander guy seemed interest-"

"Don't push it, Maximilian."

He raises his hands in surrender, walking backwards till he hit the door. With a kiss blown my way he disappears into the living room. I can hear the faint voice of Frank Sinatra before the door clicks shut.

After leaving UK, I had gone to Ethiopia for a while. It was a beautiful country, except my heart refused to flutter with excitement, the thrill of taking the first step out of the airport was gone. So, three months later I'd booked a flight back to New York, thinking that this ineffable need for adventure had died out. I just wanted to go home.

It had been two years since I'd been home. Mom had been a blubbering mess, she cried even more than the time I'd left. All the anger that Dad had held in the beginning had dissipated, he had wiped his moist eyes with his palm before wrapping me into a warm embrace. Theo had been all smiles and teasing and taunting. Everything was absolutely perfect, but the feeling of inexplicable loneliness remained.

Standing here, with my own arms wrapped around me because he isn't here with that beige colored jacket;

I finally realize that I'd left my home, the day I'd walked into Heathrow Airport without looking back. Not even once.

✈️✈️✈️

so that whole nano plan didn't work out. but i'm going to try to keep updating frequently, since dcw is a short story it shouldn't be too hard. but you know, school. feedback is always appreciated, votes too (i'm so subtle).

moro mou: my baby in greek
enta'ksi: okay in greek
[and these were the translations i found online, so if anyone finds anything wrong, please let me know]

maximilian callaway on the top (you can imagine whoever you want)

-harshita.