STILL FRIENDS ( TARON EGERTON ) [ON HOLD]

NINE

REAL LIFE

JANEL'S FINGERS ABSENTMINDEDLY PLAYED WITH THE CUFFS OF THE FOLDED SHIRT THAT SAT ON THE TOP OF THE PILE STACKED ON HER SOFA SADLY LIKE A CREEPING REMINDER FOLLOWING HER AROUND HER HOME. She couldn't escape it, it was plaguing her mind even when she hummed her new tunes in the shower or when she waited for food to cook, watching it spin and spin in the microwave. She exhaled a sad sigh and tried to swallow behind the knot formed in her throat and her watery eyes. It felt like time was dragging as she paced around her front room waiting for Taron. But when the doorbell rang it seemed too soon as it sent shivers through her body, her skin pickling with goose bumps as she sluggishly dragged herself to the door.

On the other side of the white door stood a very tired looking and drained Taron, his eyes sunken in and his skin turning yellow. He was devoid of all happiness and colour as he stood folded in on himself in dark clothes and a gray long coat. He looked like he hadn't slept in years or ate or even moved, like he was wasting away in front of her.

"Hey" She breathed, she was taken aback by his appearance and had to hold herself back from gently touching his face, her hand twitching at her side, the silver diamond ring he had bought her scratching the peeling skin on her fingers from were she had picked anxiously at the cuticles, or kept scrubbing when she'd washed them.

"Hey" He sighed as if the small action demanded too much energy from him, he didn't even look up at her but at the 'welcome' mat that rested inside the door and her polka-dotted socked feet.

She stared at him, an awkward silence falling between them for long, agonising seconds, sadness and love pulling at her heart.

"Come in" She rushed, forcing her voice to be upbeat and fake happy as she moved aside so he could enter her familiar home.

He shuffled in with the stance of a homeless or battered animal. Had she done this to him? Of course not they'd finished on mutual terms, they were still friends. They had both agreed that it would be best if they spilt up, of course they still had love for each other (so much that sometimes Janel had to force herself not to beg him to try again) but they needed to spilt so each of them could grow. They were in the peak of their careers with Taron in multiple huge new films and Janel writing her most anticipated album amongst even more stressful but blessed opportunities; it wouldn't be fair on each other if they stayed together. They would spend no time together and would feel guilty or abandoned as if they'd been tossed aside, forgotten. So they need to break up. They needed to. That was what Janel kept telling herself. But she wasn't so sure if this was any better. Why had they decided to quit before they'd even really tried?

Taron wiped his mud covered shoes on the rug repeatedly with a groan as if this would save the relationship, like it was just another thing going wrong in his life. It looked like he'd been trekking in wet fields when really Janel had a perfect brick laid driveway. Eventually, he gave up and took his shoes off, not waiting to ruin Janel's cream carpet (even though she had dropped his homemade pizza on it when he decided to treat her romantically after a long day of photoshoots), and left them on the metal rack beside the door.

He followed Janel into the living room soundlessly and she gestured to the pile of his clothes on the sofa sadly.

"Your clothes" She said as if it wasn't obviously what the multicoloured stack was "That's all I could find, but if I see anything else I'll let you know" She lied - on her messy bed upstairs laid the jumper he had asked about; still strong with his familiar scent.

"Thanks" He grumbled, picking up the stack with both arms and she watched the muscles beneath his coat and the lines of his rough hands too carefully; she missed being held in them whenever she desired, a measly jumper wasn't enough to clench her need at night. No matter how much fabric she had it could never fill the void Taron seemed to have left behind.

She reached her hand out as if to touch him, to run her hands across his shoulders like she always had, especially when she creeped up behind him when he was concentrating on something, whether it would be a script or peeling vegetables (he was a little chef that's what she'd call him and tease him about, but really he loved it). Usually it would earn one of his adorable throaty laughs and he'd tilt his head so it would rest gently on her right palm, the ring's diamond digging into his cheek and leaving an imprint. But now she knew the gesture would receive a grumble, a stiffened body and a shrug until she moved a good few inches away.

At the last moment she remembered where she was and quickly disguised it as covering her mouth as she faked a cough.

"I should get going" He said, really he had nowhere to be but what else was he supposed to say? Why would he stay there? He could feel the walls closing in on him as if he was suffocating and the smell of Janel was choking him to the point where he really did cough. He had to get out quickly.

"Oh, of course" She muttered with a shaky smile and fiddled with the ring on her finger absentmindedly, why was she surprised? His eyes flicked to it and they fluttered, the backs burning as his throat got even more choked. The ring was a promise. He hoped one day he'd replace it with an engagement one, but of course it was too soon in their relationship to have such thoughts. It showed how much he loved her, how he thought she'd be it for him, forever in his future. But he'd been too dumb, too intoxicated in his dreams and head over heels for a brunette he'd only dated for a year. Yet the fact she was still wearing it maybe meant it wasn't over, that there was still hope. Or maybe it was a taunt, something to remind him of what he would never have.

"We're still friends, right?" Her voice pierced his thoughts, his memorised trance that had seemed to block everything out except the glint of the diamond resting on the silver band and the tanned, delicate finger it trapped, melding around it as if it was made specifically for Janel's hand.

It was a taunt. A cruel, horrific taunt.

"Yeah" Taron muttered, not looking at her and his jaw clenched as he wedged one hand into his coat pocket, the other awkwardly juggling the stack of clothing, Janel was scared he'd drop it and once it had tumbled to the ground, scattered over her carpet she'd realise she couldn't part with them "Still friends"

But the tone and the way he stormed out the room, quickly and viciously shoving his feet into his shoes and slammed the door behind himself, made her wonder if maybe they still had some time before they could go back to pre Janel and Taron times, when all they had know was friends.