21 Years Young (Jack Maynard)

{2} Memories and Music

Although in many people's eyes, a year of dating feels like all of time- it never ends, until, of course, one declares that they need to part ways. But when you're with him, that blonde haired, (now) twenty two year old with that needle-sharp jawline, time flies. I couldn't help but want more. Too bad.

Although I hate Jack with every muscle in my body, I was captivated by him. Maybe it was his oceanic eyes, or dashing smile, but I felt a longing for his presence. Or at least, to revisit the memories we had together.

I looked down at the polaroid photos spread before me. One of Jack giving me a piggy back, one of me kissing him on the cheek, one of Jack and his older brother Conor posing as if they were Calvin Klien models, but failing and actually looking like they're half dead. I always took pictures. Not only did I find polaroids totally Instagram worthy, but they were precious little memories of time captured to look back on. Tears began to fill my eyes, and my gut was telling me to stop looking at them, but I just couldn't look away. I don't know why I cared so much when he made me lose all hope in the existence of love. I just couldn't place my eyes somewhere else. It was like some invisible force was pulling me towards the images.

When I was about to burst out crying, I somehow managed to get my shit together. I sloppily wiped my tears with my hand and quickly pushed the pictures together, placing them back in their box and sliding it under my bed. It was pretty late, 3:46am to be exact, but I was in no mood for sleeping.

I switched the light off, watching the light suddenly flash and flicker into darkness, before carefully stepping and turning on my fairy lights. Call me Zoella fan no.1, but I loved the way they magically enchanted the room and twinkled in the pitch black. I exhaled a breath of air whilst opening my curtains, allowing my eyes to see the beautiful city of London in action in its night time form. I wandered over to my bed, reaching for my headphones . I lay back on my pillow, enjoying the wonderful escape that is music. Eventually, my wandering thoughts are fuzzed over by sleep.

I'm awoken by an overly energetic song. I quickly turn the song off and practically throw my headphones across the room. I toss into a position onto my side and close my eyes in attempt to fall asleep again, but something in the back of my head tells my body not to fall into slumber. After what feels like an hour, I decided to actually get up and make a contribution to the world. Although, what more in the world is needed from me? My salty tears that were shed for my ex? Pathetic.

After aggressively brushing my hair and munching on a snack bar, plus of course, doing my daily morning routine, I open the door of my apartment and make my way down the street. London was full of litter, but its mornings were peaceful and not so full up of human beings. Ah, the fresh polluted air!

I clutched onto the bag swung around my shoulder but my hand was knocked off when a familiar body jumped on my back.

'Conor!' I yelled, happy to see him. But there was one thing that made my stomach churn. Jack's words last night. 'I WILL see you again'. I know he was drunk, but knowing Jack, he and Conor could be up to anything. Suggesting a possible plan.

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