Drew's P.O.V:
I woke up to find Laurence's cat sprawled across the bottom of my bed. No doubt Laurence had gone out already otherwise the cat would be attached to him at all times. I draped my blue dressing gown over myself and lazily walked downstairs to find a not pinned to the banister. Laurence's early morning hand writing read...
"Drew, I had to leave early for my dads, sorry mate. I left you some breakfast in the kitchen and the keys are in the living room. If you go out remember to lock the door, have a good time.
-Laur. X "
He was so thoughtful. If I had to leave early in the morning I would not be awake enough to remember to write a note. Does that make me a bad friend? I hope not!
After I had eaten my breakfast, left for my by Laurence, I decided to go somewhere. Maybe into town to the music shop or the cafe, maybe the coffee shop. It would be good to get out, especially alone, I would have sometime to think. I pulled on some black skinny jeans and a Weezer shirt, messily outlined my eyes with some black eyeliner and tied up my converse. I was ready, with my coat hanging limply off my body I left the house, making sure to lock the door behind me.
It was cold. Freezing actually. Maybe I should've stayed home. I could r sitting on the sofa with my bass or eating cookies right now but instead I'm freezing my arse off for no apparent reason.
After about half an hour I reached the small cafe in town. I purchased a muffin and a regular coffee and sat in my usual place in the corner. It was only small but it was a cool place to sit and think. A fire was lit in two small fireplaces in the cafe an open windows revealed children playing in the playground outside. Waitresses were rushing around keeping the few customers happy. I looked at all the faces in the shop. A pair of teenage girls were giggling and pointing at their phones; an elderly man with his grandchild; waitresses; a young woman with a baby and finally a young man with sandy blonde hair. He was the only person who really caught my eye. He had been crying, his eyes red and puffy. A sketch pad propped up by his skinny legs, his face bent towards the pages. The man wore black skinny jeans, a grey waistcoat, a white shirt, heavy black boots, a white and black stripped neck scarf and a pair of glistening steampunk goggles. I decided that since I couldn't spend my day with Beveridge that I could maybe make someone else happy, would that be so hard?
*authors note:thanks for reading, please comment with feedback, thank you:)*
