Your Social Media| d.h

F o u r

A/N: The lyrics included below are from U2's Song for Someone (I don't own the song pls don't sue me)

I open my eyes to brightness. Too bright. I want to snuggle into your duvet, but I remember that you're gone. As I become more awake, I'm more aware of the unfamiliar body beside me, his heavy arm thrown across my bare shoulders. His heavy snores echo around the silent room. It's not you. I gently push the arm off and leave, pulling on my crumpled clothes. The best I can do is brush my hair, splash my face with water and apply lipstick and mascara. I want to look neat and collected, but my exhausted and drained appearance in the grimy mirror says otherwise. 

The Tube is quieter than normal. It's not filled with bustling commuters going to work, as it usually is during the weekdays. I get off at my stop, my heels clacking on the stone floors. I reach my flat and unlock the door, disturbing the silence. Yesterday's hurried cup of coffee is still on the table. Light is streaming in through the blinds and my laptop sits on my bed, half-closed. The screen is still lit up with your Twitter. I've noticed that you've tweeted less. You're in the USA on tour with your best friend while I stay in London, yearning for someone who doesn't belong to me. 

Yesterday's paperwork is still in my bag. I pull it out and begin to scan the details of a new model joining the agency. I'm jolted with shock when I read the name. Alice Bellerose. 23 years old. French/English. Previous history of anorexia. Worked for Calvin Klein, Desigual and Karl Lagerfeld. Previous agencies include... Her details are printed neatly in uniform black letters for anyone to see. A picture of her is attached to the paperwork. Her face is makeup free, still radiant with the use of expensive products. Her naturally wavy hair lies on her shoulders. Her eyes are lit up with the euphoria of a rising model. Who are you, Alice?

That night I dreamt of you, as I so often did. I dreamt of your smile and your laugh. I dreamt of your eyes. I dreamt of the smallest things in a relationship that you never really let go of. I dreamt of you fixing your hair and watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians to ridicule them and laugh at them, even though I knew you secretly liked watching Kanye. I dreamt of your dimples and your tiny birthmark. I dreamt of your hands that still feel soft and the freckles you have. I smiled at your cute obsessions with llamas and Maltesers. 

You've got eyes that can see right through me

You're not afraid of anything they've seen. 

When I wake up and go about my day, you're still present in my mind. At breakfast, I see the chair that you had once claimed as your own. Some of your clothes are still in my wardrobe, folded neatly and kept and the back. They're out of sight. I find myself absent-mindedly daydreaming and thinking about you, or wondering what you're doing now. I wonder if you've forgotten about me.

You let me into a conversation

A conversation only we could make.

Your Instagram shows another picture. It's an old picture and it looks familiar. It shows two hands pressed palm to palm. One is more tanned and the other is larger and paler. The second hand is so much larger than the first that the tips of the fingers can wrap over the other's fingers. It's simple but beautifully captivating. My stomach lurches as I realise whose hands are in the picture. 

It's your hand, wrapped so lovingly around mine all those months ago.