Coldplay / Buckin One Shots

First Chapter ~

A.N.: Hello everyone. This is a new try on a few short Buckin stories for you! Please vote and comment if you like it!

I'm sorry, English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes!

Have a nice day or night :)

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The radio was quietly humming in the backround, while a man walked over to his little kitchen where he prepared a breakfast for himself. He realised how dirty it was in the room, he should probably clean it up soon. He only wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose, old T-Shirt. After he had finished eating, he went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Hot water ran down his thin, naked body as he tried to relax a little. He sighed. For a while now there had been nothing in his life that he thought it was worth living for, just a loveless series of things he didn't like to do so much. He didn't have any friends, he worked hard six days a week, on Sundays he normaly just slept because he was so exhausted. Not even his beloved guitar was there anymore, a while ago he had accidently dropped it and he didn't have enough money to repair it or buy a new one.

He went off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Maybe he should go to the gym some time, or find a new hobby, he thought. Anything to make his life more interesting than it was right now. He suddenly stopped while he shaved his jaw. His heartbeat accelerated while he took the small, sharp knife and held it to his wrist. Not until warm blood started staining the floor, he realised what he was just doing. With a snick the knife fell onto the white carpet. "Fuck!" he murmured and took the towel to cover his arm. After it had stopped bleeding, he put a bandage on it. It doesn't make sense anyway, he thought. After he had cleaned everything up, he got dressed and went to his working place.

" Buckland! You're late!" his boss snapped at him as he entered his office. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again," he just answered evenly and sat down. Thank God it was Saturday, so he would go for a drink in his favorite pub later that day. But first his work had to be done.

A few hours later he already sat at the bar, a glass of whisky in his hand.

"Excuse me, sir? Is it free?" he turned around and saw a young man smiling at him with white teeth and reddish-brown curls, who was pointing at the chair next to him. "Yes, of course. " So he sat down, ordered a drink and looked at him, still smiling. Hus blue eyes scanned his face, his body.

"You don't look so good," he meant. "Oh, thank you," the other man said ironically, losing his interest again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way!" the foreign man hushed and looked to the floor, biting his bottom lip. Then he suddenly looked up again and said without braking the eye contact: "You have really beautiful green eyes." Then he started smiling again while he still gazed into the other man's orbs.

"Uhn, thank you," he just stuttered, not knowing what to say.

"You're really cute. I'm Chris by the way."

"I'm Jonny," he said grinning. Maybe his life wasn't so lifeless anymore.