'39 - A John Deacon FanFiction

Chapter 8 - The Aftermath

2 weeks later

We never talked about that day. We talk about our time at the park a lot, but never about when we almost kissed. I embarrassed him and he felt a little distant from that point on. I had really screwed this up. There would be times when he would only give me one-word answers when I would try to talk to him. It broke my heart.

To know that at one point he felt for me enough to try and kiss me and now he wouldn't talk to me was painful. There were nights when I would go to bed completely defeated. The only thing I had ever wanted in life was to be with John. The one, impossible thing I wanted. And I messed it up. I could have easily given in to him and who knows, we could have been spending these nights making out in the moonlight, cuddling together in bed, or maybe something more. But instead, we were both embarrassed and wished we could go back and change things for the better.

I would lie in bed. Curled up in the covers and clinging to the warmth that was coming off of my own body and being held in by my blanket. I would stare into the darkness and be alone with my thoughts. Thoughts that were telling me how much warmer I would be in John's arms.

Although we never talked about that day, I thought about it all the time. Every time I had a second to myself, I thought about it. How gentle and loving he was with me. How he took his time to make sure I was comfortable with what was happening. How he gave me plenty of time to back out before he moved in. An opportunity I didn't take because I was too intoxicated by being in his arms and being so close to him.

He made my heart melt even more than before. More than he ever had. He was real. His feelings were real. And it was becoming very clear that he had feelings for me. Had. I don't know if he has them anymore. I wouldn't blame him if he hated me now. I would hate me for this. He gave me enough time to back out and I waited until the last possible second. It was embarrassing to him and I felt awful.

Our days would now consist of John just playing music while I finished up some stuff for work. I would go to work, come home, sit with him in the living room with minimal talking, and then go to bed. Repeat for the next day. I hated feeling distant from him. I hated that I wasn't as close to him, both figuratively and physically, as before.

Even work was worse. Before, I knew that when I got home, I would be cheerfully greeted by John and then who knew what would happen. Maybe we would talk about the book he was reading, play some music, singing and humming along to the songs with each other, or maybe just sit in comfortable silence with each other. Either way, it was pleasant. Now, my mind would constantly be racing. Trying to figure out what to do to make him talk to me. What I could do to just be even slightly as close to him as we were before. I decided that I needed to talk to someone about this.

"Dana?" I asked through the phone once it was picked up.

"Hey," she responded.

"Can we have lunch today? I need to talk to someone about John." I said into the phone while rubbing my face.

"Ooh, hell yes," she responded. About an hour later, we were sitting together in a small deli that was right in between our places of work. The perfect middle ground to meet and talk for a while. We ordered our food and as soon as out waiter was gone, Dana's hands slammed on the table and she stared me down. "What's going on over there? Tell me everything." I brushed my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. Now ashamed to be telling her all of this. "Come on. You didn't call me over nothing." She was right.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I think I fucked up." I started in a quiet tone of voice.

"What?" She asked, now much tamer than before. "How do you fuck this up?" She wasn't accusing me of anything, but her tone was more confused at how I, of all people, could screw up a situation that involved John Deacon.