Please, Remember Me

Chapter Seventeen - The Tone

I cried all the way home.

I cried until there were no more tears and my face would probably never feel the same.

The man beside me on the flight across the Atlantic couldn't be less pleased to have a sobbing woman next to him for hours and hours, but I couldn't stop it.

I ached all over, I ached in a way that was almost carnal because my body acutely felt the loss of him. It was like what I imagined withdrawal to be like.

The more hours passed, the more it ached.

It was awful and dramatic but I couldn't help it.

The attendants quickly learned that there was nothing they could do for me after they gave me enough tissue to last me the journey.

And that was okay.

I finally fell asleep at some point, being that sad was draining, and when the plane touched down in London I sighed heavily and resigned to the knowledge that he was, yet again, unattainable to me. Yet again, separated from me by too many miles to count and an ocean.

The trip back to my flat was long and slow and I made it numbly. I took a taxi from Holborn because by that point I couldn't be bothered anymore.

I climbed the three flights up to my flat, lugging my bag up with me while I panted and sweated and cursed.

I opened my door and dragged all my belongings inside before I closed it and leaned my back against it.

My flat was cold and empty, smelled a little musty from weeks of no occupation and, most especially, it had no Kieran Smith in it.

I slid down the door and planted my arse on my cold floor before I dug my phone out of my purse and tossed it aside.

I pulled up his number and put the phone to my ear. It rang twice before his rumble came at me again and I closed my eyes.

"Quasi."

"My flat's empty and cold and smells funny and it's raining outside because it always rains here and my bag weighed six thousand pounds and I'm sad." The words rushed out of me in a string that was likely indecipherable but, because he was the Hulk and Superman without a cape, he got me.

"You're home safe, that's somethin' at least for me. Fuck, knowin' you were travelling that far by yourself didn't sit right with me when you came here but then I knew you'd be here with me, this time it was worse because you wouldn't be in my arms at the end of it."

"I fucking miss you, Cowboy. Is that stupid? It's only been a day."

"No, it's not stupid. I miss you too. I'm in my bed and it still smells like flowers. But it's empty and I hate that. And there's some hair gunk in my bathroom that smells like your hair and I've been sniffing that sucker like a creep."

I laughed, "Damn, that bottle cost me like forty quid."

"You're not getting' it back, you'll have to come here and get it if you want it, I'm keeping it hostage along with the thousands of hair-pins I've found all over my house and a sock I found in the drier. Those are all valuable objects, so you have to come get them. Now."

I laughed louder and wrapped my other arm around me, feeling his warmth seep through the phone and snake its way through my system. "Yeah, they all cost a mint, especially that one sock. Definitely worth a flight."

"Good, get your sweet ass on a plane and come get them. I might lock you in my room when you get here but never mind that," his voice was amused and I loved him even more for trying to cheer me up, even further, because he was succeeding.