‘Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me
No hope, No harm
Just another false alarm’
- The Smiths
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Shit, the alarm.
My arm stretches out of the soft white sheets to slam on my alarm clock. Unfortunately, although the beeping stops, the silence is followed by a smashing sound. Eyes fluttering open, I lethargically prop myself up against soft pillows. My gaze drops to my alarm clock, which is now on pieces, shards of glass scattered over the cool tiling. Brilliant.
Cocooned in sheets, I roll away from the mess and watch light dance on the cream walls. That’s when it hits me. How could I forget? I’ve been worrying about it every night for weeks, ever since the text. Justin’s coming back to Stratford today.
It’s always a little awkward at first, as we only get to see each other every couple of months. I can’t blame him for not visiting though, it’s not his fault, poor guy. Not going to lie, it does hurt seeing him on my TV with that Gomez girl, but I know why he has to do these things. If only everyone else knew too.
With a yawn, I fish my phone from underneath a pillow and glance at the time, realising I have two hours until his flight lands.
Sean to Justin:
Hope your flight’s all okay, I know you’re up in the air while I’m writing this. See you soon, keep smiling. I love you.
I really do mean the last three words I type before pressing send. If I didn’t mean them, I wouldn’t wait for him like this. I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep. I wouldn’t put his situation before our relationship.
I can’t even imagine what he’s going to be like later, he seems to get worse every time I see him. When it’s just us two, he can stop pretending to be this confident, fun popstar. He knows that. He knows I’m his rock. Several of the texts he had sent me since he’d last visited had made tears prick into my eyes, and gave me this constant ache which I couldn’t explain. ‘I’m getting sick of this all, Sean. I don’t know how much I can take’ gave me a shock, and it took a two hour phone call to reassure me that he’d be okay. I just needed to see him, let him have a break, let him cry if he wants to, eat what he wants to, do what he wants to. Let him be himself.
Not wanting to get myself into a state, I pulled myself from the comfort of my bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to clear up the glass by my bed
*Three Hours Later*
A quiet knock on the door sends a flood of butterflies into my stomach, he’s here. I just about run to the front door, sliding across wooden floors and practically chewing my bottom lip off. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight when I pulled the door open.
There he is, arms deep in the pocket as the cool wind fought against him, bronze eyes shining, creamy skin, chestnut hair, and that familiar shy smile.
‘Justin’ I manage to say, barely a whisper, so quiet that I wonder if he hears it.
The black car, which dropped him off, rolls off into the distance. It’s just us now.
I feel his warm touch, his soft fingers closing around my wrist, and he pulls us into my living room, gently pushing the door shut. The hand that isn’t holding my own drops a suitcase by the stairs on the way, and before I know it we’re on my sofa, sitting in silence.
