Duran Duran Shit

Here, There and Everywhere

You don't even have the heart to slam the door behind you as you enter into your home. Locking the door, and locking out the outside world, you shrug out of your wet coat and hang it up with a sigh. Your hand lingers on the coat hook; you rub your face tiredly. The first bolt of lightning can be heard outside, but you don't jump. You're too tired to even do that.

It's been a long, long, long day and all you want, and need, is a nice warm bath. Maybe a cup of tea too. You no longer want to socialise with the outside world. Despite the fact it's a Friday, you don't feel like going out  enjoying yourself, even seeing anyone.

For a while, you ponder over the thought of disconnecting your phone. Relaxation is what you desperately require: from people, from your life and your thoughts.

You head straight for the bathroom, twisting the taps on and searching through the drawers to find a little bubble bath or something.

As you pour in a half empty bottle of bubble bath, there's a knock on the door.

You want to ignore it but your slight anxiety won't let you. Sighing, you lift yourself up, adjusting the taps just before you leave the room.

When you arrive in front of the door, you almost choose to just walk back, but decide to just check. You begrudgingly unlock the door, pulling it open to see a familiar face. John.

"Hi love." He's soaked from head to toe, shivering slightly, but with a kind smile on his face. John has his charcoal grey coat wrapped tightly round himself, his hair dripping with rain.

"Hello," you reply.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern on his face. You nod a little, tears beginning to brim in your eyes. Surprisingly, that's the first time someone has asked you in a while. But he's one of the only people you would tell the truth to.

Your plan was to be alone, yet you can't leave him here. You're against the whole world right now. Everyone but him.

"Come in. Get yourself dry. I'm running a bath." At the thought of your bath, you hurry him inside, giving him a glare when he goes to dry himself like some sort of dog.

Leaving him to hang up his things, you make your way back into the bathroom, glad to see your bath hasn't overflowed in your absence.

You watch the water rise, occasionally swiping your hands through it, the  bubbles tickling your hand.

John's voice floats in from your bedroom and he enters the bathroom, clad in his white half unbuttoned shirt and trousers, both still soaked. His suit jacket and tie had been discarded.
He leans up against the door, head tilted.

"Tough day?"

"Tough year," you say, sniffling, perched on the bath tub.

Head bowed, you listen to the sound of water, coming from your tap and the incessant rain outside. You turn the taps off, then move your head back round, facing John.

"Let me take care of you," John says

"I appreciate it but i you don't have to John," you reply, with a weak smile.

"I want to," he crouches down in the front of you, softly taking your hands into his, the warm wetness of yours meeting his red,cold hands, "Let me be here with you, if you want?"

It does sound good, so you bring him in for a hug. His arms soothe you a little; the intimacy you've been lacking most of the week. It's a mixture between strong and gentle, just how you like it.
Your breath is warm compared to his cold neck, as you nuzzle your head. His scent is still there, though not as strong, but you cling to it.
His hands rub up and down your back, tracing small shapes, but maybe it's words. You don't bother to try decifer which one it is, instead focusing on the kisses he's laying on your shoulder. They aren't passionate; just loving.