I run my hands through my hair. I can't see straight. The music is deafening, and I'm surrounded by people. I bring my hands up to the ceiling, screaming along with hundreds of others. I close my eyes and lose myself in the music. Someone is behind me, grabbing my waist, pressing my ass against them. I don't care, and I turn around and kiss them, keeping my eyes closed. I don't care who it is, I don't care what they want. I just want to forget.
I thought you weren't gonna piss on me, Viv.
Fuck, I can still hear my thoughts. I kiss the stranger harder, pressing myself up against them, trying to lose myself.
I thought I wasn't shit to ya, huh?
The stranger moves to my neck, leaving bruises, erasing his words from my mind.
Guess we were both wrong.
I break away, seeing a handsome stranger in front of me. I turn and run through the crowd, the music and people suddenly becoming suffocating. I ran towards the back of the club, my breathing becoming frantic. I reach the exit, push open the door, and slump against the brick wall of the back alley. I put my head in my hands, trying to control my escalating breathing, trying to calm down.
"I really messed up," I said to myself.
"In what way?" a voice said.
I looked up to see Tony standing over me, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he uses one hand to support himself against the wall, and the other one to sip his beer.
"This feels familiar," I chuckle dryly.
He smiles and sinks down next to me.
"So, how did you fuck up?" he says.
I sigh, and say, "It's a long story," looking down at my hands while I do so.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says.
And so I tell him. About London, my dad, my mum, moving here, school, my depression, and Cook, and he listens.
After I finish, we sit in silence.
"So you like him," he says.
"Yeah, I guess," I say. "He's a total git, and a wanker, but yeah."
Tony laughs, long and heartily. "They always are," he says. "God knows I was."
He looks at me again. "So why don't you date him? You like him, and who wouldn't like you?"
I smile. "Thanks, I guess. It's a little more complicated than that. He doesn't date, and neither do I, and anyways, he just fucks. He's fucked Effy, you know."
I reach out for his beer and take a swig.
He raises his eyebrows and sighs.
"Didn't know, actually, thanks," he says, and then turns to me and looks at me seriously.
"Those are bullshit excuses, you know. Nobody doesn't fucking date, that's made up, because they're scared, or something. If you find the right git and wanker, that gets thrown out the window," he says.
"Trust me, I would know."
I sense a tinge of sadness and regret in his voice.
"What happened to you?" I ask.
He shakes his head and looks away.
"My girlfriend broke up with me. To be fair, I'm a total bastard, but I loved her," he says before correcting himself. "Love her."
I exhale, and hand him back the beer.
"You might need this," I say.
"We both do," he says with a chuckle, and then stands up and offers me a hand, which I take.
"Home?" he asks, and I agree.
He takes me back to his house, and opens the door with a key under the mat. We both slip off our shoes, and then he shows me upstairs to the guest room.
"Thanks, Tony," I say before going in.
"Thanks, Viv," he replies.
♕⋆♕⋆♕
I woke up early, and snuck out before Effy could see me, leaving a note for Tony and slipping it under his door. I needed to find Cook, and knowing him, he was probably at Freddy's.
Once I arrived at Freddy's, I slipped in the back gate and made my way to the shed. I slowly pulled the door open to see Cook slumped in an armchair, a broken bottle of beer on the floor, once in his hand.
"Cook?" I knelt by the armchair, and gently shook him. He stirs awake, and pushes my hand away.
"Shuttup, alrite? It's early as fuck," he says, curling up further in the armchair.
"Cook, it's me," I say, and he opens his eyes and looks at me.
"Hey, look, before you say anything, I'm sorry. That was pretty shit of me, I'm such a fucking prick, alright? I'm really fucking sorry, Cook. If it makes you feel better, I had a shit night," I smile, hoping he'll say something.
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He just looks at me, and smiles.
"It's alright, princess," he says. "Mine was shit as well."
He uses his thumb to wipe off the smeared makeup from under my eye, and I smile, a genuine, relieved smile.
"So," I say, and pull a wad of cash out of my wallet. "Breakfast?"
He laughs, and takes the cash from my hand, thumbing through it.
"Shit, Viv, this is like 500 bloody pounds, where the fuck did you get this?"
I laugh, and say, "My fucking dad. I guess I should probably tell you about that, huh?"
I stand up, offering him my hand. He takes it, and we walk out the shed, hand in hand.
Sitting in a shitty little pub not far away from Fred's, I sip my mug of tea, wincing at the strength of it.
Cook smiles as he looks at the menu.
"Fuckin' hell, can I order anything?" he says with the excitement of a little kid.
"Whatever the fuck you want," I say.
A tired-looking waitress comes over, her black roots showing from under her mop of platinum hair, and the bags under her eyes seem to suggest she's been here all night.
"Hiya, what can I get you," she says reluctantly.
Cook reads off his order. "Yeah, I'll get one omelet, no mushrooms, a whole fry up, the pancakes, and I'll take a beer with that."
The waitress raises her eyebrows, but seems to ultimately make the decision not to question it, then turns to me.
"Just the tea, thanks," I smile.
She nods and shuffles away, and I look at Cook.
"Ok, so it all started with my dad sleeping with his assistant," I say.
AN: also, ok apparently people are reading this? thanks guys, pretty cool!
