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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended.

OK, this sounds awfully pretentious, but this was specifically inspired by listening to the two songs. So I would ask, to really get in the right mood, you listen to each song respectively BEFORE you read the fic, to get the right mood. 


Kate Rusby, I Wonder What is Keeping My True Love Tonight. (starts about 1.55, sorry, couldn’t find a better version)

John Paul’s Song

During the day I’m fine. During the day I can cope. I can paste a smile on my face and convince everyone that I’m fine, everything’s fine, that I don’t hurt, that it was just a passing fling, that I got caught up in a moment of stupidity and that you didn’t really mean everything to me. 

Sometimes I can almost convince myself. 

Sometimes I can look in the mirror and not see you reflected back at me in my eyes, smiling that smile you saved just for me.

I surround myself with people, my noisy, nosey sisters and it’s not enough. I fill the days with new student friends all around me and it’s not enough, it’s not enough to drown out the noise of absolute silence in my head, the utter absence of you. The ache and loneliness that comes on stronger and overwhelms me at night when I’m alone in my room and thoughts fill my head and it swims with dreams of you, of the times that we should have been sharing, that I turned my back on. Of the times we shared, of how you held me so tenderly in private moments, how you made me feel like the most special person on the planet, that you only existed for me, that the world had been created for us; how you looked down at me as we made love, your eyes deep with lust and desire and love, how you held me so tightly against you as you moved inside me. Oh god, the sensations fill me then, in the dark, and I have to hold a pillow to my face to stifle the noise as tears stream down my face, for fear that someone might hear. I couldn’t bear that, the looks of pity, of sympathy, all from people who aren’t you and never will be.

Why the fuck did you come to my house that day? Why did you come to me and tell me you wanted me, kissed me, led me upstairs and undressed me? Why couldn’t you have just left me alone, I could have been happy living a half life, never completely in love, but never as utterly desolate as I am now. Knowing what all-consuming, stomach-flipping love can feel like, then having it snatched away, as if someone has just reached inside my chest and torn my heart out. Like it stopped beating the moment I walked away from you at the airport and I’ve been a shell since. Why do that to me? Why couldn’t you just have left me to never have known what it was like to touch your skin, feel your arms around me, your hot breath against my neck… to know what it was like to love you.

I try to tell myself it’s your fault, you were the coward, you were the one that didn’t fight for me, that didn’t try to stop me, that you didn’t save us. But deep in the pit of my stomach I know I could’ve trusted you, should’ve tried, you wanted me, why wasn’t it enough? It should’ve been enough for me, but I was the coward. I walked away when I didn’t get the dream I wanted, when I’d finally knocked you off the pedestal I put you on and saw that you were just a person.

Each night I lie here and try to block out these thoughts, but they sneak in the gaps between what I owe to myself and what I should have done for love. They prise open the space until it’s all I can think of. I lie there wondering what you are doing, are you alone? Who are you fucking? Are you? Are they male or female? I know I shouldn’t care but I do, I need to know that this pain is worth it, that what we had was deserving of it. Every night my finger hovers over your name on my phone, and every night I’m unable to press it. I want so badly just to hear your voice, to speak to you again, but I’m scared. So many questions in my head, do you think of me? Of us? Have you moved on? Will you come back for me? Will you ask me to be yours again? Will I say yes? Should I beg for your forgiveness? Have you found yourself a new love? Can you forgive me? Can we ever be how we were again?

The sun snakes its way into the hazy cold autumn morning, casting a dull hue across my room. I’m thankful for the release, the knowledge that, for the next few hours at least, I can pretend to be whole again, that if I live the lie long enough, one day it might come true. I place my phone back at the side of my bed, looking at your name until the light fades out.

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