Lights, Camera, Action [N.H]

38

It doesn't take a genius to realise I've been absent. I would apologise, but I just got my uni results back for the year and think it was a good decision to take a step back from writing for a while. It was taking a significant portion of my time and energy, sometimes it wasn't for the better. I will, like I promised (to you and myself), finish out this story. I may finish the book with a series of very short chapters, and I apologise in advance if they seem rushed. I'm happy to close out this chapter of my life - the first book I've ever written and COMPLETED. I feel incredibly happy with such an accomplishment, and I can't wait to start a brand new book, with all new characters, and a fresh outlook. All the tools and things I've learned from writing Lights, Camera, Action will be brilliant to take into the next project. I just wanted to thank everyone for reading thus far, and I hope everyone has an amazing Christmas and festive season. I will do everything in my power to finish this book before I start Uni again in January - until then, enjoy this tiny update <3 

Sometimes, seconds last lifetimes. Sometimes, they last just that; seconds. Time is a funny thing, and it was going too quickly for me. I hoped for more time to figure my situation out. To find a way to explain everything to Niall, to tell him I'd been looking for work, and that I had an un-negotiable meeting at the time of his last show.

Although I'd sent my email, they responded asking if it was a necessary or emergent change of time, to which I couldn't bring myself to respond just yet. Maybe if I had Niall's reassuring, sweet and soft like butter voice telling me 'it'll be fine, just do the interview' then maybe I wouldn't feel so bad. But considering I hadn't pushed my ego to the side and allowed the most vulnerable part of myself to be visible — aka the failure — he didn't know about it yet.

Therefore he was in the dark, meaning he couldn't reassure me. It was laughable how self aware I managed to be. The fact that I know his words would melt over me and solve all my problems, yet the only thing standing in my way was myself.

We sat in each other's company for an early dinner, a domestic ritual I'd grown accustomed to over the period of stableness we'd acquired over the past few weeks. Such a shame; something so beautiful we had to say goodbye to. At least, for a while.

"Ange, I think we should have a glass."

"Mhm, and why's that?"

Because I'm a weakling who apparently needs alcohol to work up the courage to tell my boyfriend whom I love that I'm a massive failure.

"Because this is our last night here." I gestured to the space of his apartment.

"We've never done that before anywhere else." He joked, already standing up to grab the wine from the fridge.

"Well, I don't know. I kinda like it here." I turned around in my chair, smiling, "Feels like home."

He gleamed quietly, pouring two large glasses. "I'm so glad you feel that way."

When he returned, it took us hours to polish off the massive quantities of wine he poured. I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie, when he transferred my body to bed. It woke me up, leaving me wide-eyed and unable to sleep once I remembered the weight of the information I had to tell him.

I had two days. Two days to tell him. Two days to convince him this job was going to pan out. Two days to prepare our relationship to change. Two days for what was to come for us.

The longer I put it off, the worse it became. It sat like an ungodly, fat, beast, atop my conscious. It lurked behind me and followed me into every room. Tapping on my shoulder and incessantly reminding me in every conversation, as if I'd forgotten. As if.