infatuation // m.h

38

(A/N: Double update yo)

~ Nikki ~

Another week passed.
I didn't talk to Matty.
I missed him like hell, but I couldn't talk to him.

It drove me insane not being able to call him at night, but I just couldn't take the thought of him with Gemma. It killed me seeing them together.

I knew that he loved me, and that he missed me.
I knew deep down that he didn't want Gemma, and that he only spent the day with her to make me jealous.

I loved him so much.
I wished he was here. It was hard to think about him without wanting to call him and say I was sorry.

I forgot what started our fight.
What were we even fighting over?
What were we doing? 
I regretted all of it.

Two weeks to go.
Two weeks.

Matty tried to call me for days. I ignored the texts, the missed calls, the declined FaceTime calls.
I wasn't sure what I was doing, honestly.

I wanted him to miss me. I wanted him to go crazy without me. I wanted him to be itching to come home.

It gave me butterflies thinking about him coming home.
Thinking about him walking through the gate.
Thinking about being able to hug him again.

Days ticked past.
I wasn't ready to see him, in a way.
But at the same time all I wanted to do was have him here.

Every time I thought about the countless scenarios I'd invented in my head in which Matty came home, I felt sick and excited and lonely all at once.

I was a blur of emotions and feelings, a whirling tornado of mumbled 'I love you's' and conflicted expressions. I contradicted myself and didn't know how to put my feelings into words.

He was so far away, but so close to coming home.

One week.
In one week he'd be home.
He'd be here, at home, with me.

I wanted him so desperately. I missed him so much that I felt like I could scream.

I checked my voicemails.

"Two weeks to go. I'm sorry. I love you."

"Hey. One week. I love you."

"My flight gets in at eight. Your time. I love you. I miss you."

I didn't know why I wasn't answering his calls, to be completely honest.

I think I just wanted to know that he really cared.
I wanted to know that he really needed me.
I needed to know if he loved me.
I wanted to make him so desperate to get home.
Because I knew I was.
I wanted to make sure that this wasn't one sided.
I wanted to know that this was equal and that he missed me too.

The last week was the hardest.
He flew in on Saturday night.
Only a few days to go now.

Monday. The day was slow, terrible, dragging. I dared myself to stay sober, but only to recover from the previous night when I'd passed out on the kitchen floor. I missed him so much.

Tuesday. I painted all day at Jo's while Jo was out all day. She was worried about me, I could tell. I blasted music to escape the aching in my chest. I just wanted him home.

Wednesday. I smoked all day. I stayed high to forget about how far away he felt. Soon, I repeated in my head.

Thursday. My hands shook when I thought about how soon he'd be coming home. I watched videos of the boys' shows with a sad smiles - they were happy.

Friday.
One day to go.
I counted the hours.

Friday night was the hardest - I hadn't talked to him in so long. He'd been away for two months.
When I thought about how long he'd been away, it hit me how much I actually missed him.
A few more hours.

I fell asleep on Friday night after tossing and turning for hours. I couldn't sleep. I wondered if he could. I wondered what he was thinking about right now.
Was I on his mind?
Was he even looking forward to coming home?

Saturday morning.
Nervous pacing and barely eating.
He'd be home soon.

Twelve hours.

It had been two months.
Eight weeks.
One thousand, four hundred and sixty hours.
Eighty-seven thousand, six hundred minutes.  
I hadn't seen him in so long. These last two months had been hell.

Eleven hours.

I tidied up the apartment out of nervousness, making it spotless.
Jittery movements, jumping at the slightest of sounds.

Ten hours.

I hadn't talked to him in so long. I wished I'd said I was sorry before now. I wished I wasn't such an idiot. I wished he was home.

Nine hours.
Eight hours.
Seven hours.
Six hours.
Five hours.