don't you go // lrh

/fourty one/

/aus/

Over the next month, Amara and I managed to talk every single day. On some days we argued about the time zone and our conflicting schedules. But most days we talked as if we were together in the same room. Poked fun at each other. Joint reviewed albums one or the other hasn't heard before.

If I wasn't dead asleep before 9pm, she'd read to me at night. And I'll call once in the afternoon recounting whatever bizarre dream I had the night before. Before rehearsal. After the gym.

It was hard because all our common ground seemed to disappear. We have a blast when we're together and yet when we're apart...

I don't know.

Feels like the distance is greater than it is. Much farther than six hours on a plane or a three hour time difference. It's like I'm on one planet and she's on another.

It's a different, new, unfamiliar kind of ache when I let myself think about it. My biggest fear is that I'm boring her and she'll lose interest just as quickly as she gained it. Maybe the luster of all the rockstar bullshit will fade and she'll realize she doesn't like me very much at all without it.

And quite frankly I just miss her. It's nice to sleep next to her. She always leaves the pillows smelling like her fancy shampoo. It's nice waking up and knowing she's there. On occasion I stay up all night. I wait for her lamp all the way in Boston to turn off because it's morning. Just reminds me there's two of us and I'm not in this relationship in my head and in my head exclusively.

The strict texting schedule we're on too helps. Only at meals since with how busy I am these days and how busy she is wrapping up her last semester. And as the days passed and the schedule got more hectic, the FaceTimes and phone calls dwindled. Once or twice a week. Maybe.

It got worse when we finally got back to Sydney for our break.

Our last break.

On our last day of said break, the tickets for tour are going live and we'll be on the road until October.

The first day I slept off the jet lag. The second day we moved into the house. And the third I went out clubbing with the band.

I got so drunk I accidentally went all the way to my parents house instead of the house we're renting.

Mum woke me up by cooking me breakfast. Loudly. Every clang of her pots and pans was deliberate.

I passed out on the couch. Didn't even make it to my bedroom. Not like I'd fit in the bed at this point.

She was a little annoyed that I came home like that so she forced me to take my breakfast to go. Gave me a speech about how I'm lucky dad wasn't around to see me like this. And I should be 'responsible' or whatever. How I shouldn't let the 'lifestyle' get to me. Or whatever.

The only responsible choice I made over the next two days was not go to my childhood home after drinking. I think I went into auto pilot or something.

I just felt like I had nothing to occupy my time with until the day came that Amara would be arriving.

/amara/

I never thought I'd be excited to get on such a long flight. But excited I was. Might even be an understatement, actually.

I've become restless over missing Luke.

And now the time was finally here after I was counting down the days then the hours then the minutes.