Bastille Imagines

Talk Some Sense To Me

A/n: Please listen to the audio before/during you read this because this song really got to me. So I decided to write something with this as my inspiration. I absolutely love this song. I Found by Amber Run.

You've lost count to the amount of years since you've last seen him. Having moved away to pursue your career in what you thought was your dream job, you regrettably left everything behind. Including him. You hated yourself for that. It was the pleading. The constant pleading, him begging you to stay but you didn't listen. You had unbearable arguments as your conflicted opinions battled it out but you had turned a blind eye and your decision was made on your own accord. You left him. And he was devastated.

You weren't particularly happy where you were and you wanted out of whatever trap life had you captive in. The only solution you thought plausible enough was to - ideally - move to Paris. The city of love; where you would find true love, succeed in a job you loved, get married, have kids, buy a house and live the rest of your life in a fantasy. Yeah, you actually believed that. If only there was someone to talk some sense into you.

Surprisingly you made it further than you expected. However two years into your 'dream job' everything started to slowly deteriorate. Obstacles you couldn't tackle eventually became your downfall, unexpected and distressing. Your mistake was that you were actually stepping into the trap, not breaking free. Work was harder to find, you realised that you couldn't speak a word a French and not a lot spoke a word of English, and houses didn't exactly come cheap in the city centre. You had been reduced down to almost nothing. There was only one thing clinging to your mind during that period of depression where reality of life slapped you across the face. Him. How much you missed him, how much you regret not listening to his warnings, how much you want to see him right now. It was then you realised that the very thing you were looking for was right in front of you, but your dismissive attitude blindly led you astray. He only tried to talk some sense to you.

Over the next two years you toiled and slaved to save every penny possible to take you back home. Home. Where he was. Hopefully. Maybe you could find him again and apologise. Tell him that he was right. Fuck, he was so right about everything. You want to hug him, feel his usual baggy woolen jumpers scratch against your skin as you bury his face into his chest. You want to run his fingers through his voluminous hair that he can never seem to tame. Jesus, you miss him more than you thought you would.

Today is the day you go back home. Your mum waits for you to arrive at the terminal, waiting you take you home where you could maybe restart your life again. And this time, you're sure to get it right. The twenty minute drive from the airport to your childhood home consisted of nostalgia haunting you now that you pass the streets where you once spent your time. You pass the pub, the concert hall, the little cafe shop on the corner and his house. Doesn't look vacant. Maybe he still lives here. Your heart starts thumping a little quicker at the thought that he could be in there. Right there, and he wouldn't even know. His house slowly fades into the distance as you near yours.

~~

The comfort of the chair you sit in doesn't quite reflect how you're feeling sitting alone in a place where you used to be surrounded by your friends. Drink in hand, your eyes flicker around taking glimpses of strangers faces none of which you recognise. The music booms and the murmur of people socialising teases you, making you wish you were having a good time. The bartender gives you a sympathetic look as he washes the glass in his hand noticing your isolation. You break eye contact, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than receive pity from people you don't even know.

You've been waiting to have this drink since you stepped foot on that plane at 4 o'clock this morning. It's not as enjoyable as you hoped but it'll surpass being stuck indoors with your mother smothering you and rambling on about how she's missed you. Of course you missed her. But not as much as you've missed him. You can't even remember what he looks like. Is that sad? Not being able to remember the friend you lost years ago to your own stupid mistakes? It's the one face you should remember. But can't.