T.H. Mini Series

L.P; He's A Tramp

"Why?" you ask haughtily, glaring at Oliver in the mirror.

For his part, Oliver was unfazed by your attitude. "Special request" he muttered tonelessly.

"Since when do I do requests?"

"Since tonight"

"Ol, this is a joke right? James is joking yeah?"

"James doesn't have a sense of humour M, you know that"

You sigh heavily. "I hate that song though"

"Since when?"

"Since now" you reply testily.

"Well I don't know what else to tell you except suck it up buttercup"

"Thanks Ol, that's mighty helpful" you sass, staring glumly at your reflection.

"We're on in 15, so get it together yeah?"

You stuck your middle finger up at him but nodded at his reflection.

Just your luck. Your first day back and you had to sing his song.

You itched to pour yourself a drink, but you'd promised Oliver that you wouldn't drink before the shows after he had found you unconscious in the bathtub, surrounded by empty bottles.

Guess that's what happens when you're heartbroken. You stop caring about everything.

You sat up straight and fixed your hair, blinking away the tears before they could fall.

You can do this.

You can do this.

You can do this.

**

He's a tramp, but they love him
Breaks a new heart, every day
He's a tramp, they adore him
And I only hope he'll stay that way

Your voice wobbles. You hate this verse.

He's a tramp, he's a soundrel
He's a rounder, he's a cad
He's a tramp, but I love him
Yes, even I have got it pretty bad

Through the veil of tears, you can see James watching from the bar, frowning at you.

"Sexy!" he mouths.

You can never tell when he'll show up
He gives you plenty of trouble
I guess he's just a no 'count pup
But I wish that he were double

Your hands shook and you were glad that you were sitting.

It'll be over soon, you thought.

There was a movement side stage but when you looked was nothing there.

**

Your set was finally over and you practically ran off the stage, unable to pretend for another second that you were fine.

You ran down the hallway to your dressing room, wiping your tears with a shaky hand as the other poured a large glass of Scotch.

A hand closed over yours and you dropped the Scotch, backing into the dressing table. You unbalanced a vase of white roses, the vase shattering across the floor, a million tiny shards that closely resembled your heart.

He looked as awful as you felt, though you were fairly certain you looked pretty awful. Everything about his appearance was dishevelled and despite your shock and all of the hurt of the past few weeks you felt the familiar urge to hold him, to kiss him.

But no sound escaped your gaping mouth.

"Hello" he says, his voice thick.

Words fail you, so you nod.

"You sounded good" he continues, keeping his distance. "I always liked it when you sang that song"

A lightbulb goes off in your head. "Y-you requested the song?" you whisper. He nods. "Why?"

He shrugs. "You never called me back"

"I -"

"I had to see you, to hear you say it"

"Oh"

"Please just tell me. Please don't leave me hanging in limbo. Just tell me"