Drabbles

Happy.

Are you happy? Are you happy now?

Are you happy, are you glad, 

That you're the one who makes me sad

Are you happy, are you happy

 . - - * - - .

Where is he? I can't find him. He was supposed to be here. He promised. Where did he go? 

I searched full-force for the man I wanted, needed, to see. He had been gone far too long. Seven months. 

It was way too long for me. Then again, maybe I'm just clingy. But it was such a long time that I would have forgotten his face, if it had not been plastered everywhere by the media. My skin had long lost the memory of the silkiness of his, the soft beat of his heart, his radiating warmth. I almost forgot his kiss, the way he worded his sentences, although we skyped and texted as often as his work would allow him. Maybe a little less - I was boring, and he needed his rest. Mostly the former, but I knew that. I had always known that.

His presence I craved. I lived with him, breathed his scent whenever he was around and sometimes when he wasn't. I kept one of his softest hoodies and sprayed it with his cologne. It was the only physical evidence of him ever being mine that I could muster and cherish. 

My bum was firmly planted for an hour, maybe two, at the airport terminal he ensured he would be at, waiting for me. But he wasn't here. 

This was the third time I had been stood up. He had already missed my birthday, missed our anniversary - I had met him while he was on tour three years previous - even though he promised he'd be able to meet up.

The first time, they wouldn't let him run off from rehearsals for a day to come meet me. Typical. I wasn't mad then, though - I understood. I knew that he couldn't be at my beck and call, and I understood that. His birthday text was a day late. I was hurt, but I knew that work came first. It had to.

Then, for our three-year anniversary, I had flown out to meet him. I spent my own money to surprise him and got turned away. "Business comes first, babe," he'd said, as he always did. "Rehearsals and a press conference, a video announcement for the you-know-what." He'd pecked me on the lips and sent me off, shooed me. Hurt me even more. 

It was ever so naive, but I was happy that I got that kiss. I was ecstatic. Any attention at all from him was all that I needed to fuel me the next few months, up until this moment.

Since then, I'd had a very serious conversation with my closest friend. A girl, of course. They all usually know better. 

"He's taking advantage of you," she'd stated, so very solemnly. "When was the last time he even texted you?"

"A few days ago," I'd replied, voice small. 

"That's not good, sweetie. Do you want me to have a talk with him? Or you could just tell him that you miss him."

"He knows." I was quiet, soft. "That's the last thing I said to him."

"Tell him how you feel, then." She was extremely confident when it came to relationships, boys and men loved her for her personality and looks. I had neither.

"He won't say it back." She pressed me to explain, told me that I need to have a reason why I would ever think that. She just didn't get it. 

"I love him. But I know he doesn't love me back." I looked up through my dyed hair. I was exhausted; defeated. "If he did, he would have texted me more. Reminded me that he thinks I'm beautiful." I paused, holding in the tears I was, and have been for months, denying. "He hasn't said it for months. Nothing sweet. I've driven him away. But I love him so goddamn much, he makes me so happy when he's around. I'm such a child, of course I scared him off, I always wanted a kiss before he headed out, a cuddle before bed - a day together. It's too much. I want too much. I'm not worth enough for it."