Try and Try Again

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Day 14

There had been no sleepwalking this night - since there had been no sleeping per se.

Tina got up with a splitting headache and dragged herself to the kitchen. She was half way done with her first mug of coffee, when he entered the kitchen - barefoot and dishevelled, just as Tina fancied him most. Except, she was too preoccupied with her internal freaking out about the fact that it was most likely the last morning she was presented with this view to appreciate the man's overall deliciousness. Also, he looked like shite. Dark shadows lay under his red-rimmed eyes, and there was some sort of an unhealthy grey tone to his normally tanned, warm skin. Oh, hello, guilt, my old friend.

Repeat after me, Tina, it's not your fault. The man's an insomniac. You don't owe him your soporific magic.

He walked by her, grumbled 'Morning,' poured himself coffee, and took a few large gulps. Tina watched his throat move when he drank. Oh god, she'll miss this so much!

He lowered the mug and gave her a firm look.

"I can't move here for you," he deadpanned.

You know that cartoon image of a character's noggin exploding with a nuclear mushroom growing on top of it? Yeah, that's how Tina feels at the mo.

"Pardon?"

"I can't leave London and move here. I lost three big contracts over the past fortnight."

Tina once again reversed to her previous coping mechanism when the man made these statements of his. She blinked slowly.

"And I don't want a long distance relationship with you. I've lived with you, and that's how I like it," he added.

Look at that frown! It's almost intimidating how intense he can be: with his mane of dark curls, his jawline, his furrowed thick glossy eyebrows! Wow... a bearman indeed!

OK, Tina, pull yourself together. You need to start communicating with him!

"I didn't expect– didn't ask you to move for me," she mumbled.

"But you aren't moving to London either," he said.

Note that he's not really asking, innit?

"In no way to criticise you," she muttered, "but it's sometimes hard to follow your line of thinking. You seem to assume things, and then they somehow become a hundred percent true in your head, and–"

"Are you moving to your flat in London?" he interrupted her impatiently.

Rude, mate!

"Lyn lives in my flat in London!" Tina answered and exhaled in frustration. "And no, I was not considering moving to London any time soon. I was having an existential crisis. And an identity crisis to boot. I love my cottage! I love my writing life. I didn't–"

"I see," he boomed and heavily sat down on a chair.

Oh. Oh no. That's times worse than him being disappointed in her! Him being sad, and looking defeated, and– Tina's heart clenched, and she bit into her bottom lip.

"Please, don't ask me to give it up for you," she whispered, and he looked up at her. "I might not be able to say no."

She wanted to touch him so much! But she'd shatter if she did. He smiled, with his lips, but not his eyes, and shook his head.

"I wouldn't, Clemmie."

"Can we just enjoy it while you're here?" she asked in a tiny voice. "And maybe you can stay for a bit longer? Come back after the Christmas dinner at your sister's and–"

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