Soon, My Friend (Currently Editing)

Back to reality

June 21, a Wednesday, was the fourth day I'd been indoors with June and basically lived in her bed watching Game of Thrones 24/7 (by the way; we could've been in my room too, but her room was closer to the kitchen, like.. just in case one of us needed a drink or something to eat. And besides, it was easier to get out to have a cigarette occasionally).

I tried to be present - to pay attention and seem totally fine. Yet there was something that bothered me. Rather, someone.

"Ground control to major Billiiiee..." said June, raising her voice, maybe she really attempted to sing, what do I know. She waved her hand in the air between us to make contact.

"I asked if you're keen on a fag or are you completely drowned in depression now?" she said as soon she'd caught my eye.

"Y-yeah, sure. Depression, no, what are you talking about..?" I said, wanting it to sound casual. She lowered her eyebrows and scratched the narrow nose of hers.

"Y'know, that he hasn't contacted you..?" she began, and mouthed: "..again.".

She laughed silently to show me she was joking. I scowled at her intending to protest, but failed. 

"Yeah, well, OK. I'll admit it, it bothers me a little, OK? He hasn't even texted me." I pouted and lowered my head like a little two year old.

"Relax a little, c'mon, I'm sure he will sooner or later. But what d'you expect? That he'll, like, come through the front door with a million white roses and a choir singing You And I?" She was out of breath at the end of the sentence.

"No?" I spat, but had to laugh at the idea. "Ugh, no, but I dunno, I.. I must simply accept the fact that he might have died."

June sighed a little laugh out of her nose: "Well... He's probably busy, he's a fucking superstar, y'know." She got up from the bed and walked over to the armchair that was packed with clothes.

"Maybe you should call him, then?" she suggested as she picked up a Nike shorts and a t-shirt, and tossed the clothes in my face.

"I should what?" I sent her a scornful gaze after pulling away a few strands of hair hanging in front of my face. "That's the last thing I'll do, God, I don't want to seem absolutely desperate."

"Firstly, it is precisely what you are," June sighed. She found herself a pack of cigarettes from her dressing gown pocket and grabbed a lighter from the bedside table.

"And secondly, what if he's been strolling around the last few days and thought exactly the same thing?" 

She laughed slightly at a thought before she shared it with me, trying to imitate Harry's voice: "Oh, my God, it's so embarrassing - she probably think I'm going to propose to her 'cause my cock got hard when she ordered a pint -"

"Shut up!" I laughed and stood up to throw something at her, but I couldn't find anything usable. Nevertheless, I took the chance and threw a pillow at her, but missed of course. She saw my defeat and laughed louder. Then she went out of the room and out the front door that she kept open for me. I quickly got dressed and came out after her.

"But seriously," it sounded from June after we'd both taken some puffs from our cigarettes. I looked at her, blew out a strip of smoke that disappeared above our heads. 

"He's not stupid, he'll call you soon. Hey, perhaps already tonight?"

"Don't start giving me false hope again, you..." I murmured and took another drag of my cigarette.

"I don't, alright? He has a lot going on and to do, you said it yourself yesterday."

"I know, I know.."