Journey | Yogscast Lewis x Reader

21 - Crash

A/N: There's quite an emotional chapter ahead. 

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It's late now. Another day, the sky might have been filled with stars, but today, there's a thick layer of oppressive grey clouds obscuring them. 

And now it's starting to rain.

As you walk along the pavement, wishing you'd brought a coat, you curse at yourself.

"You've fucked it all up," you mutter to yourself. And worst of all, after all this, you have to go home and sleep in the same building as him. 

You've never been hurt so much. You think back to all the times Sips reassured you Lewis liked you back, that you just had to take it easy.

"Yeah, well, look where I am now," you say out loud. You don't care that there's a guy on the other side of the road looking at you strangely. You don't care about anything - you just feel numb, and tired of trying but not being rewarded at the end of it.

Life isn't fair.

Your hands are still clenched tightly in your pockets, and you can't feel it, but you can see that you're shaking visibly. 

"For fuck's sake," you say - you can barely hear yourself over the rain. "I should've known it was going to end up like this. I fucking should have guessed it."

You could still see it - that moment, replaying in your mind: Lewis, looking at you wide-eyed with shock, pulling back. It didn't mean anything to him.

"For fuck's sake," you say again, and this time it sounds withdrawn, and empty, and just fed up.

Your whole body feels cold - partly because of the rain, and partly because of something else. You huddle into yourself as you walk, staring at your feet, listening to the distant sound of beeping horns and revving motors from the road behind.

You've been walking for about ten minutes now - the hall's well out of sight. And no one's followed you either.

Because no one cares. Not even him.

You don't even realise you're walking into a pub until you're sitting down at a barstool, drenched to the skin, staring straight ahead, waiting for the bartender to approach you.

You look around, and assess your surroundings. You recognise this place - you've been down here to drink with Lewis and the lads a couple of times, but not of late. It's about ten minutes' walk away from your - and Lewis' - flat. There's no one else in there but you.

And then you realise why your mind must have led you here - it's where you met Lewis.

The girl finally walks up to you - you don't even bother to look up at her. 

"Gin and tonic, please," you say hoarsely. 

You don't even like gin - you don't know why the fuck you're ordering it.

"Coming right up," the girl says. Her voice sounds distant to your pounding ears.

You bring a hand up to your eyes to wipe the rain out of them. You decide that as soon as you get home, you're going to have a hot shower to warm you up again. 

The cold is beginning to set in, now the numbness is going.

"Here you go," she says. She sounds awfully familiar.

You look up, brushing wet strands of hair out of your face, and then your jaw drops in shock as you recognise who it is.

And she looks back at you, with the same reaction, the same look of recognition in her eyes. And then that recognition turns to hatred.