I was on the couch of Willow's flat, fiddling with the pillow that I clutched to my chest, as an act of wallowing. I had been feeling unwell for the past couple of days. I tried to excuse it as travel sickness, but I had a feeling everyone knew it was the announcement of Rogers' engagement.
Willow had offered for me to stay with her for a few days. I hadn't left her house though in two day, just wallowing in sadness on her couch, which I'm sure wasn't very appreciated, but I was too upset to do anything.
Willow walked out of her room, and sighed when she saw I was still on her couch. I felt a bit of a burden, but Willow wasn't one to get annoyed. She'd stay up drinking vodka with me, just listening to me whine and complain. Personally I think it was just an excuse for her to drink and not be classified as an alcoholic but I was fine with that as well, I didn't mind getting drunk with her.
"We need food and stuff." Willow told me, and I just turned my head to look at her. We where both still a little hungover from last night.
"Can you go? My head is killing me, and you need to get out the fuckin' house. You haven't seen the light of day in days." She told me, taking a cigarette out of the pack she kept in the pocket of her zipper jacket.
"Fine. Give me a list of things we need." I caved in, quickly, rubbing the temples of my head, as I stood up, wincing at the pain in my head. She nodded, pulling out a pen and sticky note in her drawer, and wrote down a list of groceries we needed, reading them aloud, as she wrote.
"Here you go. Don't take too long, before we starve." She joked, handing me the piece of paper, taking the cigarette out of her mouth to exhale.
"I won't. Love you." I chuckled, taking the paper from her hands, looking down at the list, as I grabbed my burgundy zipper from the couch. I was already wearing black shorts that reached just past my thighs and a grey tank top, so I didn't really need to change. Although probably not the best outfit for the temperature in London.
"Love you too." She called from the kitchen, as I opened the front door, closing the door loudly on purpose to piss her hangover off.
"Fuck you!" She yelled, as I laughed, wincing at my own headache.
꧁꧂
I rolled my eyes at the list, as I pushed the shopping trolley through the supermarket, with one of my elbows leaning on the handle of the trolley, and my other hand holding the list at arms length in front of me as I read it. She clearly wasn't reading her list out loud. Unless it's just force of habit for her to write this, and she thought she was actually writing food.
What to get from the shop:
-vodka
-vodka
-vodka
-cigarettes
-cigarettes
-pasta
-chicken
-fanta
-coke
-cigarettes
-rolls
-vodka
She really just lives off of cigarettes and vodka. At least she's got her priorities straight. I managed to get the vodka and cigarettes, pasta, fanta, coke, chicken, and I added a few other items of my own.
Now, I just had to get the rolls.
I walked over to the bread aisle. Walking around, with both elbows now on the handle of the cart, as I pushed it around, looking for the specific bread she requested. I stopped dead in my track, my face turned pale, and my blood ran cold, as my eyes fell on the blonde-haired man in the same aisle, with his brows creased, as he observed the two different loaves of bread.
I thought about turning around and speed-walking away from him. But it was too late to do that, when he turned his head, and he saw me. Shit. I gave him a tight-lipped smile, as I tried to ignore him by occupying myself by trying to find the bread.
"Spence?" My name rolled of the tip of his tongue so easily, just like it did the other night when I saw him.
"Hi.. How are you. We didn't really get a chance to talk the other night." He chuckled, rubbing his three fingers and thumb against his cheeks, in a cupping-like position, as he looked down for a moment, before he shoved his hand into his pocket, and looked at me.
"You uh.. You look great." He nervously chuckled again, taking his hand out of his pocket to gesture at me with his hand, before it fell back to his side. I knew he probably didn't mean it. I was an utter state. The hood of my zipper was up, my hair was over my shoulders, and wasn't the healthiest looking, since I hadn't taken care of it in a few days. My clothes, breath and just me in general stinked off cigarette smoke and booze, and there were bags under my eyes.
"Thanks..." I gave him another tight-lipped smile. "You look great, too. Your girlfriend-" I stopped, swallowing the lump in my throat to continue. "Your fiancee is really pretty. You're really lucky to have found her. She seems really nice." I smiled, correcting myself.
He chuckled, looking down to his feet. "Thanks." He took a deep breath, looking back up. "I know I'm lucky. I just hope to God I don't fuck it up." He chuckled, and I just gave him a small smile, as I nodded along.
"How come you ran out at the party?" Roger suddenly asked, catching me off guard a bit.
"Oh.. The alcohol just didn't agree with me." I chuckled, making up some excuse.
"It never used to affect you before?" his brows furrowed, and I could tell he didn't believe me.
"Well a lot can change in five years." I just responded, and he looked down once again.
"That is true. Well, it was nice seeing you, Spence." He looked up and smiled at me, quickly grabbing a loaf of bread, throwing it in the basket he was carrying.
"Yeah, nice seeing you too." I said, although I'm sure he probably didn't even hear it, with how quiet it was. I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes, to regain composure, before I finally found the rolls, and threw them in the cart.
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