Duran Duran Shit

Don't Go Sprainin' My Heart

It's 3am, and you're sat up with your best friend John, in his hotel room. He's leaning back on the headboard, whilst you lay across the bed, the two of you simultaneously smoking a cigarette.

John is away with the fairies and there's a comfortable silence between you.
You watch the way his hand brings the ciggie up to his mouth, the veins in his hand captivating you. His white shirt gives you a glimpse of his chest and he's wearing the silver chain you bought him for his birthday. A gift from his best friend. Just a friend.

Thankfully, John interrupts your gazing by beginning to speak.

"We should go skating."

You laugh, "What?"

He's grinning widely and it's clear the line of coke he snorted minutes before is finally kicking in.

"Yeah, c'mon. Tomorrow, let's go ice skating!"
"Don't you mean today?" You joke, pointing at his wrist watch.

John leans forward, taking your hands into his. Electric shocks.

"Look, I have free time today. Let's go. It'll be fun!"

Sighing jokily, you nod your head.

"Fine, why not?"

You're pretty sure he won't even remember proposing the idea by the time it's daylight, so you just agree.
"It'll be fucking fantastic y/n, trust me!"

It's not unusual for John to come up with all sorts of plans that you know he'll never go through with. It takes a lot of patience and tolerance to be John's friend; his career means he's got barely any time to himself.

But you know it's all worth it: the long bus rides, the hours you spend at cold soundchecks and the constant sound of screaming fans. He sticks by you and you stick by him. Always.

Since you were kids, the two of have been friends and it was John who would let you put makeup on him, starting an obsession with makeup for both of you. You were simply John's occasional makeup artist, when Duran Duran got big, and you were invited on for the ride.

It feels surreal, having a job that entails having fun with your friend and drinking champagne. You never thought this is where you would be. But God, you're thankful.

A knock on the door awakens the two of you at 9am, as you're both tangled up in bed. It's not unusual for this to happen either but you and John never say anything. He simply untangles his long legs from yours and grumpily walks to the door. "Breakfast sir!" You hear a voice say, and in comes the trolley.

Together, you eat breakfast in bed, chatting away, occasionally flicking bits of food at one another. He may be a pinup on thousands of kids' walls, but he himself is still a child.

You're just placing your plate down, when John asks,
"So, what time are we going ice skating?" The question takes you by suprise.

"Oh. We're actually going?"

"Absolutely. I've never been before and I want my first time to be with you."

His words take you back to the daydreams you had at age 15. You can barely find the words and John is giving you an odd look, and wearing a smile on his face.

"You daydreaming again? Do you not want to go?" He's towering over you, stretching out his sleepy body. God he's gorgeous!

"No, I'd love to go John! Just didn't think you were serious about it, that's all."

John sits on the bed, wrapping his arm around you. "We don't get time to do barely anything and I'm sorry, y'know? Just wanna grasp all the chances we have to do something different. And you deserve some fun, so do I, I suppose."