RoadTrip oneshots: reader

| Andy | goodbye |

Warning: suicide and self harm are featured in this, it is only mild but please skip if this will affect you and always remember you are not alone. Drugs and alcohol also have a small feature x

Part 3

One year later.

"Please, please, don't leave me. Please."

The door slams shut. I sink to the floor, my legs giving way under my weight. Tears stream down my face as I try and gasp for air, each breath wracked with sobs. Pain shoots through my chest, my head pounding from all the screaming and shouting.

It wasn't always like this.

It never used to be like this.

We were happy once.

He loved me.

Loved?

It's not true.

He closes the gap, his lips soft against mine. It's sweet and slow, delicate, almost as if one of moves too quick the other will break and the moment will be lost.

Slowly we pull away, letting our foreheads rest against each other. I look into his eyes, a shy smile spreading across his face, showcasing his dimples. I feel my checks warm as a blush creeps up them.

He brings his hand up, his thumb brushing against my cheek softly, leaving a tingling feeling in its wake.

"I love you." He breathes, barely audible.

"I love you too." I respond failing to stop the smile spread across my face.

That was the most magical night.

What I wouldn't give to go back to that night.

To any night with him.

Even that night.

The night we first met.

That night on the rooftop.

My grip of the wall loosened as I moved, causing me slip forwards but before I fall I feel an arm wrap around my front.

I can feel a breath on my neck as the owner of the arm keeps me pulled close to their chest. The soft scent of citrus and wood invades my senses. Once upon a time, it might have even been comforting.

It was comforting. For so long his arms were my favourite place to be. I felt loved. I felt safe.

Even when he was so far away, I could always feel him here, next to me.

"I miss you." I sigh, resting my chin on my hand as I hold my phone up to my ear.

"I know, I miss you too. It won't be too long now until I'm back home."  I can hear the sadness and the longing in his voice.

"How was the show last night?" I ask, trying to lighten the conversation.

"It was amazing as always." I can hear the smile in his voice, his love for performing evident every time he spoke about it. "But it would have been better if  you were there." He barely whispers, so quiet I'm not sure if I was supposed to hear it.

"That's good then."

"How have you been coping?"  I wince as he asks the question.