In Seventh Heaven

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Pov: You're John's new girlfriend and youre sat in a dressing room. The boys are getting changed after their performance of 'The Reflex' on Top Of The Pops, and naturally, they're already picking out all the issues. "Lip synching! What a bloody joke!" Simon moans, angrily pulling down his tight trousers. Andy just laughs, "That's because they know you can't sing. Don't want you fucking it all up with a bum note or something eh?" The singer rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, we don't want that. God, just imagine how embarrassing that would be," Nick says, a grimace on his face.
"Worse things could happen," John grumbles. You go over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with you grumpy?" He huffs. Wow, he is in a bad mood, you think to yourself. Deciding it's better to just leave him be, you go back to your seat.

When the boys are all changed and ready to go, John takes your hand and you leave the building, guided by security. He's basically dragging you, and your legs can barely keep up with his long ones. "John!"
As you sit down together in the car, you turn to face him, a confused look on your face.
"John! I thought there was a after party! We just left the overs! Why did you just drag me away?" He sighs, laying his head back.
"I refuse to spend another minute in there, I'm sorry. The boys will get over it. Let's just go back to the hotel, yeah luv?" He does look tired, so you nod. Laying your head on his shoulder, John wraps his arm around you. You're glad that he doesn't want to party hard for once, but you can't help but find it odd. He'd been so cheery and excited earlier.

It's been ten minutes sicne you arrived back at your hotel, and John hasn't said a word. He's laid on the bed, hands under his head. You're sat next to him, flicking through a magazine you really aren't interested in. Turning to look at him, you sigh. The frown on his face concerned you, but now it's just infuriating you. Why can't he just tell me what's wrong?

Fed up, you decide to speak up. "For fucks sake John! What's going on?" Your words make his head shoot up.
"Nothing."
"John, yes there is something wrong. Just tell me, please. I can't be arsed to walk on eggshells around you for the rest of the night." He looks up at you and sighs softly. Lighting himself up, he wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your neck. "I'm sorry luv. I've been a right twat," he admits.
"Yes, you have," you say with a smile, "Please tell me baby. We can sort it out together."
It's one of the few times you've seen him like this, so you're worried about him.
"Can we talk about it tomorrow? I just wanna spend some time with you right now. Have a little fun," he smirks, and you can't help but agree. You know exactly how to cheer him up.

The next morning, as John lays sleeping, you decide to get him a little treat. He's been working so hard, non stop, and especially after him being so upset yesterday, you want to give him a little something.

You take a walk down to a supermarket, and spend about 10 mintues browsing. Finally, you pick a little red velvet cake, some of his favourite teabags ("the hotel ones are shit", he tells you all the time) and a cheeky bottle of vodka for later on. On the way back, you pass a lingerie store (primark) and can't help but go inside. After leaving the store, you see a jolly man selling ballons on the street corner. You love this sort of thing and you feel like John would too, so you buy a cute blue balloon. John will love all of this, you think, smiling to yourself.

When you enter the hotel room, you can hear the shower running. Using this to your advantage, you quickly change into the new lingerie set you bought, leaving all of the times on the bedside table, and place the balloon in the wardrobe, in order to suprise him.

You're laying on the bed, in your new attire, when John walks out of the steamy bathroom. Things are about to get a whole lot steamer, you think, a large smirk on your face. He's only got a towel wrapped around him, and when he notices you, he looks even more ethereal. His look of shock morphs into a grin, as he saunters over to the bed. You're making eye contact and his eyes are fully blown out. "You're his favourite drug," he always says. Until now, you never believed him.

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