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Saturday 4th April 1995, 9:07am
(Y/N)'s apartment,
Camden,
London
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I had barely slept. I also hadn't left my home for 5 days. Graham visited on Wednesday, and George came around to apologise on Thursday, but aside from that my social interaction had been minimal. I started to understand loneliness. I forgave George pretty quickly, but he couldn't stay long anyway. He was very busy, he said, although he didn't specify what with. I hugged him for a long time just before he left. I nearly didn't let go.
I valued my time alone, but recently I had felt so discontent in my solitude that it was leaving with nothing to do except walk around, depressed. I didn't entirely feel real. I was more like a odd ghost, floating around my empty apartment.
The morning continued at a slow pace. I turned on the telly for a bit, curling up on the sofa and commuting to and from the kitchen for cups of tea that kept going cold, forgotten on the side. At around 11, a knock sounded on the door. I didn't bother to put any trousers on, or sort my matted hair. I assumed it would be Graham again.
I unlocked the door, keeping it on the latch. After all, this was London. I looked through the gap to see a very serious looking Damon. I knew why he was here. He was going to tell me this was the end. Accepting my fate, I opened the door.
"Hello," I smiled sadly, making a gesture to invite him in.
"We need to talk," he burbled almost frantically, like the words burned his tongue. I just nodded agreement.
"It's fine, I know," I told him. "It's best you come inside."
We sat on my sofa, quiet. The clock ticked on, marking out each second that the awkward tension ensued with a smooth and steady metronome. The world sat still, albeit for a moment. I decided to speed along the process, deciding now that it would be easier to bear with the quicker it happened.
"What did you have to say then?"
"I... It's not easy to say you know," he began. meeting my gaze for only a second before choosing instead to look at his own lap. "I think... I think I'm in love with you."
My heart almost stopped. This was the last thing I expected.
"No you're not, that's ridiculous," I told him, completely baffled. He took my hand gently in his own.
"I am, I've written songs about you."
I leant forward, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
"Dames, don't screw your life up for me."
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Tuesday 31st March 1995, 5:45pm
Damon's house,
Dalston,
London
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"I'll be back in a bit darling, I'll only have a couple of drinks," Justine told him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the lips. She looked good, wearing a tight dress, a bit of makeup. He couldn't usually see the beauty in her anymore, but it was still there.
"Alright, I'll be here," he said, smiling and giving her a wink, feeling completely insincere. She smiled back and turned around to leave, grabbing a jacket on the way out the door. As soon as she had gone, he leant backward, expelling a huge sigh from his lungs. It felt so fake, like they were playing pretend. Everything was horribly wrong. He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her anymore, and she wasn't in love with him. When he's in, she's out. Damon leant over the side of the sofa, grabbing a guitar, and started lazily strumming some chords. Eventually, a melody found its way over. A C chord, then an F#m.
"They stumbled into their lives," he began, singing the words slowly, unsurely, testing to see how they fit. "In a... vague way became.. man and, wife." It took a moment for the words to come, but he was finding it remarkably easy, particularly for a fourth album. Damon was genuinely surprised he hadn't got nothing left to say. "One got the other, they deserved one another... Now when... he's in... she's out."
