Time... His Script is You and Me (A David Bowie Fanfic)

Hallo Spaceboy

The game was up.

I tried every excuse I could think of: seeing his lyrics somewhere, guessing them, even saying someone else had leaked them to me.

None worked.

The lyrics were nowhere, it was impossible for me to guess what they were, and he had never shown the song to anyone else before.

"Florence, I mean, just, tell me how you knew the song. Give me the truth. It's nothing bad, I'm sure." He chuckled with his beautiful smile, but inside, my stomach was tied up in knots.

"I can't tell you." I said quietly.

His smile faded a little, and his mismatched eyes looked in mine. "Florence... what is going on?"

"I... just... can't tell you. I'm sorry." I replied, even softer. I knew he meant no harm, but I couldn't tell him the truth... surely?

David's features further saddened at my remark. He lost all the giddy joy he had been so filled with a few minutes ago.

He said, "Florence, it isn't just this. I can understand you not telling me something, but you never reveal anything. All the disappearances, all the secrets, it's really hard to bear, you know."

"David, I'm really sorry. I just can't tell you." I said, nothing more than a whisper.

David looked away from me for a moment. I saw his hands go up to his eyes, as if he was trying to hide away tears.

"Florence. I can't deal with this any more. I don't want to push you, but I don't feel as if you like me as much as I like you. And, I mean, I do like you. But all this secrecy - I can't handle it any more."

"David, No! I do like you, you don't even realise how much. Please-"

"I can't. I can't keep seeing you if you keep being as elusive as you are. I'm sorry. P-please... please leave." His face was strained and he was definitely crying now.

So was I.

I didn't bother to argue. I had used every excuse, every plead, but nothing short of telling him I was a time traveller would do. And that was not an option.

Standing up, I walked away and out the front door. A last peak at David's saddened features further blurred my teary eyes.

When outside, I didn't know what to do. Nowhere to go and no way to go home. I had no clue how I could return to 2016.

I had no plan, and I was getting tired. It must have been ages since the last time I slept.

It was probably midday, and the jet lagging (no, time-travel lagging?) was overwhelming. As the whole of London spread before me, for some reason it was as if there was nothing at all.

Nothing in the world, except for the house behind me, and the man within it. I had to see him, say something.

I wanted to knock on the door, yell David's name, and have him sweep outside and pick me up and kiss me like he did before. But now that was impossible. I had ruined everything.

Sitting down on the stairs, I pulled my phone from my pocket, and clicked the on button. I realised I had never actually seen if it had worked here.