DMs - Bradley Will Simpson

58.

***

APRIL 7TH 2016

I rang Brad's phone. No answer.

So I called again.

And again.

Still no answer.

"Where could he be?" I stressed to Tristan, ruffling my hair with one hand. Brad wasn't socially active and didn't use his phone much - but he always answered my calls.

"It's 11pm, I don't think he'll be awake," he tilted his head at me.

"But he hasn't spoken to me since earlier, and he said he would message me." I paced up and down the hard laminate flooring of a hotel in which Tris was staying in. "It's weird for him to not answer, you know it is!"

"London, calm down," Tristan slowly removed his leopard print jacket, and placed it over my shoulders. I was shivering, and I didn't know whether it was because I was cold or I was nervous about Brad's whereabouts. Most likely both.

Also, the fact Brad had left me extremely turned on since the M&G wasn't helping my situation.

"I just-ugh. Nevermind, I should probably go home," I sighed, planting myself down on the couch next to Tristan. "I don't like this at all."

"You could always stay here. That way if I hear from Brad I could tell you," he offered. "This is the first place he'll come to."

"Thanks Tris," I rubbed my forehead in agitation. "I genuinely hate not knowing where he is. He could be anywhere."

"You look really good in my jacket, you know? Even if it is a little too big," he gestured to the sleeves, which were down to my knees nearly. He was trying to distract me so I laughed slightly, but I couldn't take my mind off Brad. What if something had happened to him? And I was sat here, not doing anything about it.

"London," Tristan lowered his voice, and wrapped his arms round me, so I felt comforted in the warmth of his embrace. I was grateful, but...

I wished his arms were Brad's.

"Look, he'll be fine, now stop working yourself up! He can take care of himself," Tristan shook me. "Come on, take your mind off it. I'm here for you."

"I'm worried, Tristan," I looked at Tristan sadly, before scrolling my eyes down onto the white fluffy rug.

"Don't be," Tristan placed his warm fingers under my chin, tilting my head back up so I was forced to look into his eyes. The gap closed between us, and I knew this was wrong. "London.."

"Tristan, please, we shouldn't-" I begin but his face is so close, and he rubs his thumb on my cheek with a careful and sweet purpose. His thumb moves down to my bottom lip, and then my chin.

"Lon, I've wanted to do this for so long. If I was completely sober maybe I'd regret this."

Tristan pressed his mouth against mine, and for a few seconds I was still, unsure of what to do. He kissed my neck, which felt...really good and made his way back to my mouth.

I, stupidly, kissed him back.

I'd come here to check on Brad, but instead I found myself on the lips of his band mate.