•𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘀•

68 6 22
                                    

A/N: Flashbacks in italics.

•💧•

Vince's POV, 7th October 1988

Two days since what will probably go down as the most uncomfortable recording session I've ever been too, and we've walked in on Tom Zutuat fucking his girlfriend on the mixing desk.

It's an image I'll never get out of my head and neither will the other guys- it was just ew.

I'm dreading the next demo session which is scheduled for the 9th, it's gonna suck- especially now both Tommy and Mick are informed of the situation between Nik and I.

Yep, I knew Nikki told Mick basically Mick rang me yesterday and said he knows about what happened with Nikki and tried preaching me on how Nik made a mistake but he's hurting just as much as I am- which I almost found laughable.

It did make me think though... maybe I am overreacting a little but even so, he still ruined me for no reason, broke me for no reason. So no... maybe I'm not.

If there's one thing I've learnt from this it's that love hurts. Love hurts so fucking bad.

To make memories with someone and have them be the happiest you've ever had then for them to turn into things which give you the most agonising emotional pain, from being so happy, making you smile whenever you laid eyes on them to making you burst into tears.

That's what I'm going through right now, with a bottle of tequila in my hand, one which I'd had found in the suitcase I had from the last leg of the 'Girls, Girls, Girls' tour, I'd forgotten about it and left it in one of the compartments- I only found it by chance earlier today when I decided to try and clear my closet out, using the suitcase as a place to put the unwanted items.

This didn't end out happening instead I was looking through memories- long story short I had this box of photos of Nikki and I which I've collected over the years, I'm much more of sentimental person when it came to pictures than Nikki although he did have some hanging around his place at my insistence... he'd probably destroyed them by now, seems as I meant so fucking little to him in the first place.

A part of me wants to burn this box because it physically hurts to look at, to see how happy I was... and how happy Nikki appeared to be, although chances are it was fake but I can't bring myself to do it, I could never destroy these memories. No matter how much it hurts to look back at now, at the time the photos were taken I was the happiest I've ever been.

I stuck with him through everything, through all the shit he threw at me, now he breaks me and basically wastes 5 years of my life... I should burn this box... I just should, he deserves it.

Then why can't I? Why am I sat here on my bed looking through them instead of destroying them.

I think it was fairly safe to say I wasn't exactly sober right now... I'd drank that bottle of tequila I'd found and also had two other ones on hand which I'd gone out an brought a couple of hours ago after originally finding the box of photos knowing I was going to need more than one bottle of I wanted to even try and look at them - I was drinking to try and numb the pain of looking at these memories but it wasn't doing much, I was still sobbing like a bitch.

When I'd initially stumbled over the pictures earlier when trying to clean out my closet I couldn't help myself but to look through... I hadn't looked at these pictures in a while.

𝗦𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗹 🤍Where stories live. Discover now