Mellow ~ A Simon Rix FanFiction

Tease

Delilah's POV :3

Enjoy! x

The lads have been in Moscow for the past week. I'm jealous as hell.

As I'm sat here, on the sofa, two cats on my lap, chocolate biscuits to my right, some reality show blaring on the television, they're probably gigging, seeing the sights, meeting fans and such, makes me feel like a slob.

It's still morning, I have the whole day ahead. I could go to a museum, see Martha or run the errands I've been meaning to run this past week, but instead I will spend the whole day moping around the house.

It's irrational to miss him, I hardly even know him properly, but I do miss him. A lot. Simon warned me before he left that he probably wouldn't be able to text me or anything. Two weeks with no contact at all.

There's so much more I want to know like how this whole band stuff started, why he wanted to be in a band, how they all met- I sound super nosey, and I'm afraid to ask questions in case he thinks I'm nosey.

He's living the dream I could never have.

I always wanted to be up on stage whether it be with my saxophone or guitar. My parents didn't approve, and to me, education was far more important than music. I don't regret going into teaching and not following that dream, as Ricky said, it's okay to let go of your dreams sometimes.

But being around the guys makes me feel like I am living that dream, and somewhere, ten years in the past, there is a young girl in Manchester completely unaware of what awaits her.

I hear the letterbox clash open. Irritably, I leave the sofa (having to prise Marlo off of my legs first) and head into the hall. There are no letters on the doormat, just a single postcard.

I bend down to pick it up, a stunning photograph of the Winter Palace on the front, I gush, flipping it over to see a paragraph of scrawny writing.

I read it in the sitting room, feeling my cheeks blush slightly as I do so. It's from Simon.

Delilah,

I apologise in advance for the handwriting, I'm writing this in a pitch black hotel room whilst the lads are sleeping.

I never really know what to say in postcards and I'm worried that if I tell you about how beautiful Moscow is, how amazing the monuments are and how thrilling the atmosphere is, you'll be jealous.

Oops. I think I just made you jealous.

We will definitely come back here and hopefully next time you'll come along?

I just wanted to send this so you knew I was alive and not completely hungover, although I am pretty hungover. I was so pissed the other night I started having these really weird dreams. I won't go into the details.

Anyway, I hope you and the cats are okay, and I'll see you when I get back.

Simon :)

I smile stupidly to myself, holding the postcard close to my chest before plastering it above my desk which is situated right next to the sofa.

Now every time I'm in the midst of some treacherous marking, I can see the beautiful Winter Palace beaming down at me.

I fold my arms, staring at the postcard before returning to the sofa and my reality television.

:-:-:-:

Their flight is due back in an hour so I decided I would nip to the shops and buy a couple of things for Simon and Peanut. They won't have any food in.