Chapter 68

828 36 7
                                    

When I got home that night, I spent a lot of time ruminating my conversation with Eric.
Contemplating my limited options.
Considering the possible outcomes.
But it just wasn't that simple.

I waited by my windowsill again, anxious to see John return, pacing back and forth through my room. He hadn't been home in over a day, and I was determined to speak to him again upon arrival.

Soon enough, he finally made an appearance, just as the sun began to set, and the flickering street lamps began to switch on.
I felt a surge of mixed emotions run through my body, but a forceful magnetism of the most strength push me forward, so before I knew it, I was already halfway out my front door.

"John!" I called softly from further down the road as I saw him opening the gate to Mendips.

"Sam?" He slurred as he turned to search for me.

I stepped closer towards him, revealing myself under the dim lighting of a street lamp.

"Care for a quick chat?" I bit my lip innocently in an attempt to appear friendly; I didn't want him to feel as though he were under interrogation or something.

He nodded his head and beckoned me through the gate where we could take a seat in Mimi's back garden.

I shook my head with a laugh and grabbed him tenderly by the sleeve to sit him down on the curb in front of Mendips instead.

"I'm not the queen Lennon. I can sit on the ground." I teased, displaying a sweet smile upon his sunken face.

He didn't seem drunk, just tired.

"Look, I don't want to fight." My smile faded as I touched his face, brushing a single finger across the deep bags underneath his bloodshot eyes. "That's all we ever seem to do these days."

"Agreed." He placed a palm over the one I had to his face.

"You look a wreck by the way son." I cracked a smile to lighten the mood, ruffling his hair gently with my spare hand.

"Charming." He raised an eyebrow.

And for that split second, I forgot the reason I'd actually come to speak to him, as things felt so at ease. Until I looked into his soft brown eyes and it all came flooding back.

My smile faded, and I revoked both of my palms from his face.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry for everything. This mess we're in." I stared at him earnestly, yet meaningfully. "And despite everything I've said and done, I want you to know that I do still care about you John."

His allayed expression never twitched as he listened, if anything, softened even more so.

"Sam," he gave a weak smile. "If anything, it should be me apologising. After all, I've been the worst friend, and boyfriend in existence!"

"That's not entirely tru-"

"Sam!" He winced, his voice stern. "You know fine well it's true because you're right. You have done nothing but been there for me, and in return, I see that all I've done is either roughed you up or ignored you altogether. Not to mention the bloody temper tantrums."

He buried his chin into his knees immaturely, sighing deep breaths of assuage as he recollected all the bad he'd done.

"But John," I placed a hand to his back, rubbing it in circular motions soothingly in mollification. "You have a good side too, and I've seen him. He's lovely." I smiled.

But it seemed to be of no use in cheering him up.

"I don't like how things are always so complicated Sam." He sighed.

In My LifeWhere stories live. Discover now