The morning sun shines through the silky, sleek curtains covering the windows of the bedroom. The light dances on the face of the tattoo covered rock star, and as his eyes flutter open, Dylan shields his eyes from the radiant brightness. His vision soon comes into focus and he realizes that he isn't sleeping in his own bedroom.
He swings his long legs over the side of the bed to sit on the edge. Rubbing his hands over his face, he tries to recollect the memories of the night before; what lead to him sitting naked in a bed that's not his.
From his peripheral vision, his attention is brought to the reflection in the large vanity facing the bed from across the room. His heart drops.
Jamie.
She peacefully rests, her hair a wild and tangled mess, but her true form as simple and beautiful as one could imagine.
Dylan turns to look at Jamie while she remains in her state of slumber, and all the memories of the night before come flooding back.
The altercation. The confession. The kiss. The passion.
Ding.
A notification flashes on Dylan's phone, a text message from Jorel.
Jorel: Hey man, we need to talk. meet me @ the spot asap
Dylan hesitantly responds, not wanting to leave Jamie hanging high and dry just hours after such intense intimacy.
Dylan: I can't man, not the right time
Jorel: It's important. We gotta talk about the album
He sighs and shakes his head, not wanting to argue. But there lies the internal conflict: stay and risk problems with the band, or go and risk problems with Jamie.
Do I really love her enough to risk more friction within my band? Or was what I got last night all I truly wanted?
Dylan: I'm busy
Jorel: Busy with what? U know we got more deadlines to meet before this tour, right?
Dylan: deadlines?
Jorel: That's why we need to talk. Meet me @ the spot & I'll tell u
Dylan glances back over his shoulder to see that Jamie is still sleeping.
I don't wanna have to do this...
Dylan: Fine. Be there in an hour.
~~~
*Jamie's POV*
My eyes flutter open only to be immediately blinded by the unnecessarily bright light of the morning sun. I hate mornings.
I contemplate pulling the blankets over my head and going back to sleep until I remember last night.
Me and Dylan.
The memories flood in and a small smile pulls at my lips. I turn over to snuggle up to Dylan, just to be greeted by nothing.
"Dylan?" my voice croaks. I sit up on my bed and glance ahead at my reflection in the large mirror atop my dresser.
"Dylan!" I call slightly louder with hope that maybe he's just in the bathroom. There's no response.
I look ahead again and inspect the image before me. I look like I've been to hell and back again.
Where the hell did he go?
I grab my phone to check the time and I notice that I have a text from Dylan that he sent to me a half hour ago. I open the text, hoping that maybe there's some kind of explanation... Or something... Anything that would show that I didn't just fuck someone I was starting to trust just to get ditched.
YOU ARE READING
Funny Love (Hollywood Undead Fanfic) *discontinued*
Fanfiction"What if I never even see you 'cause we're both on a stage? Don't tell me to listen to your songs because it isn't the same. I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game." ~Banks, "Waiting Game"
