The Vamps Oneshots/Songfics Book.

Imagine Twenty One - Philosophy (Brad)

For the fifth time since I tried to get to sleep, my eyes snapped open. The ear-blistering sound of thunder rattled through the flat and woke me up yet again. Rather than interrupting the inevitable I got out of bed and wandered into the living room, and upon noticing it as empty I ventured into the kitchen.

The first thing I noticed was Brad standing at the window, cradling a steaming mug of some kind of hot beverage in his hands. He was watching the storm that was battling perilously, showing no signs of relinquishing dominance of the sky any time soon.

“Morning” I mumbled, incapable of possessing a normal volume of voice due to the few hours of non-consecutive sleep I had obtained.

Upon hearing my voice he appeared slightly startled, reluctantly drawn back to reality from his mesmerised state of watching the rain fall. He made his way over to me, placing his mug on the kitchen counter as he did so. He wrapped me in a hug, knowing why I was awake in the early hours and probably wasn’t looking my best.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, and I nodded as an instinct, not really knowing the true answer myself. He smiled and pressed his lips to my forehead, leaving a lingering kiss that brought a comforting effect for me.

“I think I’ll make a drink myself” I told him, and he nodded, soon retrieving his own mug from the counter.

“So, since we’re both up, what do you want to do?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink as he looked at me curiously. I stopped my journey to the cupboard to turn around and face him, he wasn’t bothering to hide the suggestive smirk that had graced his expression, clearly displaying some ideas of what his question could be answered with.

“At 3am during a storm? Yeah good luck buddy” I told him with a playful tone, although I was pretty serious. I was having one of those days where my worries were getting the better of me. I turned back to the cupboard and grabbed a mug from the back, deep in my own worries, only to drop it a few seconds later, bringing other various sized pots and pans crashing to the floor with it.  

I cursed under my breath as I scurried to put them all back, but I couldn’t seem to focus on anything. “Why don’t I do that? You just go relax, love” Brad’s soothing voice brought me out of my mini-breakdown.

He helped me to a standing position then spun me around so we had swapped places. I walked over to the kitchen counter and lifted myself onto it, sitting cross-legged.

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, no judgment in his voice. I had his undivided attention, and for some reason suddenly felt really insecure about the thin layer of clothing I had covering my skin, he could probably see through it if he tried hard enough. There was no real, justifiable reason I should be feeling insecure about it, we were happily together after all, it was just another fear and worry added to the ever-growing list.

“Life, really” I replied simply, not planning on beating around the bush. Brad was the one person I was willing to have this conversation with, I just guess the time to have the conversation had been brought forward to what I had originally planned.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t really want to expand on my answer to his question, it would essentially break down all of the metaphorical walls I had built up over the years. I shifted on the counter awkwardly, making room for Brad to sit directly across from me as he handed me the mug of hot chocolate and balanced his own mug in his other hand.

“Just because it’s 3am doesn’t mean we have to get philosophical” I attempted to excuse, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Nope, talk to me” he insisted, getting into his adamant, argumentative mood that there was just no beating. I sighed and blinked back tears that had managed to crop up for no apparent reason, probably just from the idea of having this conversation.