Well and truly Cumberbatched (To be revised)

Chapter 4

“Ben?” I ask.

“Yes bobble?”

“Why did you ask me to remember the word ‘tile’?”

“I wanted to show you something.” He uttered, somewhat nervously as we approach Blackfriars’s bridge, before guiding me to the edge, taking my palm in his, just for a moment. 

“Feel this.” He says, motioning my hand across the unique mosaque pieces that make up the hand rail.

“You know what, all this time I lived here and I never took the time to notice this, silly aren’t I?” I said, the tiles really were rather beautiful, I suppose when you're in a hurry to get to places at the best of times you forget the simple things you see everyday. 

A great shame really. Life is too busy for life itself sometimes. 

“No, not at all. It’s just that each piece is so unique like you and well…” he paused for a moment as I fiddled with my thumbs.

“Do you mind sitting over there? With me of course.” He quietly said.

We headed over to a ledge overlooking the Thames. I sat down and placed my hands behind me, essentially leaning back on myself and Ben did the same and we watched the boats moving along the river, our feet dangling over the edge, moonlight bounced of the darkened waters.

It was peaceful, calming even. 

“It’s been quite a while since we sat here” he quietly uttered, tearing me from my wandering thoughts.

“It has been, it wouldn’t be the same if I stuck my mac here with you on Skype or something and shouted about how amazing it was to look over in the middle of the day” I added. He breathed a light laugh.

“True, it’d be a bit of a worry if the first time I saw you properly was somewhere for crazy people because they thought you were a bit off your rocker and locked you up”

“I suppose, but one persons definition of crazy is another persons idea of perfectly logical” I said, looking over at him.

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you? Smartypants”

“Call me Rosie, 'Smartypants' is a bit of a mouthful” I lightly said and he smiled before it got quiet again for a few minutes as we sat there.

“Bobble, Rosie, Rosalind…I, I’ve been meaning to say something for quite some time now and I don’t feel like there’ll ever be a right time, and it’s not something I could say in a text, skype chat, or phone call.” He said nervously, going through nearly every name he’s ever called me in the process.

Well, every polite name he's called me!

I took in a cool breath, quietly though. I wasn't nervous, just...curious. I mean this is the first time we've actually been face to face in five months or something, since he got back to London I feel like my crush on him has just gotten worse, or better, or however you're meant to describe these "feelings".

I don't like feelings sometimes, they turn you into an idiot. 

“This feels like a dramatic enough moment to say something, anything even, Benedict.” I said, looking over at him, praying he's just say something, even if it was just about the weather. 

“You sound serious, have I upset you or something?” 

“No, of course not. I thought I’d ease whatever pressure you feel like you’re under by getting to the point.” I softly said.

‘Can he just spit it out?’ I thought to myself, my stomach just knotting itself more and more. 

Maybe, maybe. He's realised I like him a lot, and he's letting me down gently?