[[[the wonderful mess that we've made]]] [[[part iii]]]

41.

I was still in a lot of pain and heavily drugged up. Getting around the flat was difficult but not impossible. Just very slow going on the crutches. My leg was painful but healing slowly. Dan had got me a new phone and sorted out new bank cards and house keys. He'd been my guardian angel once more. He'd bought round hundreds of films to watch so we spent the days on the sofa and the nights cuddled up in my bed.

But the nights weren't easy. I had begun to have nightmares. Horrible, vivid nightmares. I'd wake up in the dark and think I was back there in the rubble, pinned down, alone and afraid. And each time Dan would calm me down and wipe away my tears. Just lying in his arms and knowing I was safe brought me back round. It was him who suggested I get some counseling because I must've had post traumatic stress. I don't know how I would've got through without him. I would never admit I needed help but simple tasks like showering, going to the toilet, even getting from the sofa and into bed were painful and difficult.

He'd delayed going back on tour, which I felt guilty about. I over heard him on the balcony when the record company rang him.

'I don't care, my wife needs me right now. She is more important.' He argued. I wondered if they knew we were married before that conversation? 'Push it back. You can't do it without me.'

He came back through the sliding door moments later, puffing out his cheeks.

'I'm sorry Dan, I don't mean to cause trouble-'

'You're not.' He assured me, kissing the top of my head nonchalantly. 'Im putting you first. Gigs and interviews can wait.'

I loved how we hadn't even spoken about this. About how just two weeks ago we couldn't even be in the same room together. I wondered what would've happened if Ed and Kyle hadn't concocted that plan to make us speak at the festival. And now he was here, in my flat, making me tea and holding me all night like it was the most natural thing in the world.