Oxygen (Catfish And The Bottlemen/1975)

Saffron

Bondy hotel room had that warm, heavenly glow about it, with all the lights down low and one of those french jazz composers he adored so much playing just as low and soft as the lights.

He looked tired, but Johnny always looked tired. Sleep deprived chic. Thats what he'd smirked when he'd presented me a brew and I'd told him he didn't have to stay up, that he looked tired, that he should get some rest.

"Darlin this is my aesthetic," he said wandering off, half asleep towards the bathroom.

I heard him turn the taps on, saw the steam start to rise.

He leant up in the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, head leaning to one side. Eyes on me.

I was lying on my side, head resting on my arms, tilted to look up at him through the hair which fell across my face.

"Thanks John," i said softly, surprising myself because i didnt really recognise my voice.
I sounded weaker than I thought I would, shaken. Like a light blinking.

He smiled softly.

"Do you feel better bein home?" he asked and when he said it I smirked, thought I saw a slight waver in his confidence. Like he'd said something he hadn't meant to.

I just smiled, nodded my head though every movement ached. I felt like I'd been awake all year.

"Lots," i said, smiling a little wider when he did too. "Actually," i started then, no longer able to look up to him, knowing that I was about to say something I would live to regret, "I think I felt better the minute I hears your voice on Kittys phone..." i said quietly, embarassed by my own sentimentality. Embarassed to admit how happy he could make me.

For a moment he said nothing, I wondered whether he'd heard me, i hoped that actually he hadn't.
That we could pretend I'd never said it all.

"You're a sweetheat Saff," he chuckled, moving from the doorframe to the bedside, crouching down so that his eyes were level with mine, the small quirk of a smile on his lips when he reached out to push my stray hairs from my face. "I'm glad you feel better love," he said softly, mirroring the quiet, peaceful way i felt in his presence.

I reached out then, to take his hand which hovered at my cheek, to set it down on the bed, just holding it.

His eyes pooled into mine but he seemed preoccupied, he seemed almost distant, like he was struggling with something inside.

He gave my hand a squeeze, stroked his thumb across my knuckles and offered me a wider grin when he stood up, placing my hand down on the bed by my nose.

"What do you wanna eat treacle, I'll call it up on room service," he asked any kind of feeling I thought we'd been about to share fading away with the turn of his back as he disappeared back into the bathroom.

I heard him swear when he dipped his elbow into the water, realised he'd only used the hot tap.

"Dont think i cant hear yous giggling buttercup," he cried out, turning to me over his shoulder through the steam. I could make out his pout. Make out the wounded eyes he was forcing just to make me smile. Make me giggle again.

"I can't help it," i grinned when he came back, picked the phone up off the side, "youre just funny," i sneered up at him and he sneered down at me, face inched from mine when he narrowed his eyes, his nose almost pushing against mine. I felt my heart rise, beating suddenly oh so quickly in my throat. Felt it sink again when he pulled away, kicked his legs up on the bed and leant back beside me.

"What dya like Saffy?" he asked his hand in my hair as he rested his head against the headboard and settled, getting comfortable beside me.

"I don't know," i sighed, another little yawn escaping me.