catfish and the bottlemen imagines for rainy days + mondays

Is This It // Bob (part 1)

"Can you... Can you come pick me up?" your sobs rang out down the line and shocked him as you sat on the curb outside your boyfriends house in nothing but your tshirt and a pair of shorts which had been fit for the summer sun that afternoon but were leaving you to shiver in the dark now that it was 3 in the morning and you were struggling to breath through the endless tears.

Bob was confused on the other end of the line, his quiet that of someone struggling to wake up. But Bob was wide awake. The sound of your voice, pained as it was, had woken him with a short, sharp shock and now he was hanging off your every word when you managed to get one out.

"Y/N, love, where are you? Are you alright?" he asked stifling a yawn.

You felt terrible for calling him in the middle of the night but you hadn't known who else to call.

"Dannys," you sniffled, though the name only bought on several more shivering sobs.

You heard him sigh on the other end of the line. All sympathy and nothing else.

"Oh love,"

"I'm sorry," you sniffed, snatching in a breath, biting your bottom lip.

You were freezing but you couldn't feel that so much anymore. It was the ache in your chest and the fragile way you felt like your whole world was falling apart.

"Hey, no, none of that y/n its alright," he said softly, you could picture his brows knitting together as he spoke, "he still live near that pub?"

"Yeah," was all you could get out but that was all Bob needed to hear.

"I'll be there in five alright," he said before he hung up and left you to wrap your arms around yourself and keel over, burying your face in your knees as the tears streamed.

You couldn't believe you'd had to call him again but whenever you fought with your boyfriend Danny you always wound up calling him.
He was the only person you ever wanted to see. The only person you didn't really mind seeing you shivering outside in the cold, tear stained and desperately, desperately heartbroken.

Once upon a time you might have called your older brother Benji but those days were long gone now. He'd never really warmed to Dan and as the year had waned and your fights with your volatile boyfriend had grown more, well, volatile, your brothers patience with him had completely faded.
You knew that if you called him tonight Benji would hit the roof. Not with any anger directed at you, but anger directed at Dan, for hurting you again. And the anger would be directed at Danny.

You couldn't call Benji because if you did he would storm straight past you and knock down Dannys front door, kill him, at least thats what he always threatened to do anyway.

None of your own friends could drive yet and they all still lived at their parents homes. You didn't exactly want to call one of them at 3am and ask them to ask their mum to come and collect you off the street corner.
So you couldn't call your friends.

And you couldn't call any of your brothers other mates either.

Van was too loyal, he'd tell Ben before he'd even driven to pick you up.
Bondy, though you trusted him, was up in Newcastle, too far away to come tonight.
And Larry? Larry would sleep through your call, not because he didn't care but because he could sleep through anything and everything and wouldn't stir for the ringing of his phone which he would definitely have left in a different room anyway.

So you called Bob, and it was better that way because you and Bob had always shared a quiet understanding.
He'd always warmed to you and you to him. Whenever your brother had had all the lads round it was Bob you'd chosen to sit beside, quietly, watching the rest of them piss around together.
He knew you better than any of the others and sometimes, you thought, he knew you better than your own friends.