I feel like I've been sobbing into Dylan's shirt for what feels like hours, but in reality it's only been about twenty minutes. I don't know why it's hit me so hard this time, they've let me down so many times before, but for some reason it just hurt that much more this year.
Dylan had gotten up a few minutes ago, I wasn't sure where but I'd been too caught up in my own thoughts to pay much attention to it - that was, until, I heard voices in the corner of the room.
"She's over there," one of them said.
"Thanks mate," the other spoke, his voice becoming louder. Was that -
Harry.
He slid onto the sofa besides me, making himself comfortable, looping an arm around me, pulling me into him, rocking back and forth gently.
"Eds...I'm here now," he whispered, his spare hand rubbing a soothing pattern on my back, a grounding technique I found very useful. "I'm here."
I knew I was too hysteric to tell him what was wrong, but I tried anyway. Through big, separated sobs, I managed to blurt out some random sounds, in an attempt to string together a coherent sentence. "My parents - t - they're not gon - gonna be able to vi - visit me on m - my b - bir - birthday," I cried, making useless patterns with my fingers in an attempt to distract myself.
"Oh, Eddie, I'm so sorry," he mumbled, I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was talking into my hair, his arms still coaxing me, making me feel safe. "What do you need me to do? Do you want anything? Need anything?"
"No," I whispered, giving my head a small shake. "Just you. Just stay here for a little bit longer."
"Of course...I'm not going anywhere, Eddie. I promise you."
-
We ended up staying on the sofa for another thirty minutes, before I started to get cramp in my legs, needing to walk around and shake it off. It woke Harry up from the daze he'd been in, sat up straight like a deer caught in headlights.
"Wh - what, are you okay?" He asked, he sounded so confused, it was almost endearing.
"I've stopped crying, so I guess that's something," I sniffed, forcing a smile on my face as I stand up bending my legs to loosen them up. Truth was, I probably felt just as shit as I did when he had arrived, but he didn't need to know that.
"But how do you feel?" He asked, propping himself up. Damn, maybe he was better than he let on...
"Fine, I guess. Hurt that they can't come up to see me, but what can I do about it?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders, trying to act as if it wasn't a big deal, trying to convince myself I didn't care.
"When is your birthday? We'll make it your best one yet," he tells me, his voice eager, excited.
"August nineteenth, not too far away now," I tell him. "But you don't have to make a fuss, just being with you is good enough for me," I smile, my legs feeling alright so I make my way back to the sofa, back into my original position. The blanket was still a tiny bit damp so I ended up folding it over, not wanting any reminders of the last hour or so.
"I'll make it a good one, I promise," he grins, his arms finding their way back round my waist, gently pulling me closer to him, his chin resting in the crook of my neck.
"I'm sure you will," I agree, grabbing hold of one of his hands, squeezing it a little.
"Can you believe it's been two months, nearly?" He asked suddenly, changing the subject moments after I finish talking.
"Hmm?"
"After the nightclub, where I asked you out," he replied, and I could practically feel him cringing behind me. It was no secret he was regretful he asked me that way, and even though he made it up to me - which he didn't need to do, I knew he still disliked himself a little bit for doing it in a nightclub.
"Two months of you calling me a fangirl everyday has flown by," I say sarcastically, hearing him laugh from behind me.
"You can't even get mad at me for that either, because we both know it's true," he speaks, and I hate him for it because he's right.
"Are you asking for the silent treatment?" I joke, peering over my shoulder and seeing he's basically pissing himself with laughter. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"
"Well, yeah, there's a reason I'm every fifteen year old's dream guy," he grinned, bursting out into another fit of laughter at the sight of my face - which, by the way, was a mixture of shock and outrage at his comment.
"I mean, you're not entirely wrong, but still, pipe down you cocky dickhead," I chastise, turning my whole body around so we're facing each other on the sofa, looking directly into each other's eyes, making it all the more intimate.
"I guarantee if you search my name up on any social media there'll be hundreds of fan accounts for - oh wait, isn't that how we met?" He asks, setting me up completely.
I shake my head, closing my eyes and bury it against his chest. "Please never remind me of that again," I groan, cringing at the very thought of it.
"What was it...wroetobog?" He asks, knowing exactly what he was doing, and the fucker was enjoying it, too. "Let's not forget your groupchat, what was that called? Wroeto-"
"Okay! Enough! We do not have to go there right now, I thought this was supposed to be you cheering me up?" I ask, swiftly changing the subject, not wanting him to say the name wroetowhore out loud...so embarrassing.
"I'd argue I did a very good job of that," he protests, locking eyes with me. "Do you, or do you not feel more cheerful than you did fifteen minutes ago?" He asks. Once again, annoyingly, he has a point.
"I think you are stubborn and annoying," I counter, although, now I come to think of it, I'm also detecting stubbornness in myself right now. Oh well, I'm determined to win this so called argument.
"Stubborn? I think you're talking to the wrong person, I can call Simon for you, though?"
"Harry Lewis, I'm going to fucking kill you one day," I laugh, hitting his arm in a playful manner.
"No you won't, I cook you dinner, and drive you everywhere," he argues.
"Once! You cooked me dinner once! And I can walk, you know. And drive! I'm not entirely incompetent, I promise..."
"No, you're right. Not totally incompetent, but you're getting there," he smirks, smacking his lips together and licking them, his grin full of mischief as always.
He had been right, though. I was so much happier than I had been earlier, because he'd made me realise that I didn't need my parents on my birthday. I had someone else I cared about, and someone that cared about me too.
"Oh, well look at you two laughing on the sofa!" Dylan cheered, walking out of his room, sitting himself down on the other sofa.
"Dylan! Thanks for rushing back home," I thanked, shooting him an appreciative glance. He'd always been there for me, much more than any other of my friends, Maisie included.
"Of course I did, you divvy," he spoke, rolling his eyes, sass pouring out of his body. "I'll also take credit for calling lover boy over, too," he added on, sharing a nod with Harry, looking very pleased with himself.
"Yes, well, thank you, Dylan. Anyway...you look very - fancy, what're you up to tonight?" I ask, noticing he's wearing a nice shade of lipstick, also some eyeliner too. He looks great.
"I've got another date," he grins.
"With -"
"- Sam, yes, I'm not that much of a whore, fucking hell! Although, there is nothing wrong with being a whore, I'd just like to point that out," he tells us, cracking us both up.
"You and him need to make it official already," Harry piped up, making Dylan blush.
"Tell me about it...I want to, actually, but he said he's not ready because of a past relationship, which is completely fair to him, so we're just having a good time at the moment," he explains, and it's nice to see they're taking it slow...especially because Dylan has moved very quickly - almost too quickly, in the past. None of them had ended well.
"That's great, Dyl! You'll have to invite him round for dinner here one time, Harry can come over too, a double date!" I suggest, although, I'll have to make sure Harry's not the one cooking.
he seems to know exactly what I'm thinking because he nudges me in the side, whispering in my ear. "I know exactly what you're thinking, so don't worry, I will not be cooking in this house."
It drives me into a fit of laughter, and I'm unable to contain myself, or even explain myself to Dylan who stops talking mid sentence to look over at us like we're a bunch of crazy people.
"You know what, I'm not even gonna -"
The sound of the doorbell cut him off, and he was up and out of his seat before anyone even had time to react. Both me and Harry subconsciously twisted out heads to get a good view of the door, seeing Dylan welcoming Sam in, bringing him over to where we both were.
"I'm gonna go grab my stuff, I'll be two seconds," Dylan announces, rushing back off to his room.
I sit up, flattening my hair down and smile at Sam. "Hey stranger! Nice seeing you around again," I greet. "Sorry for looking a state, rough day," I apologise, feeling Harry squeezing my hand comfortingly.
"No need to explain, we all have them, myself included! It's nice to see you too, and you, Harry," he smiled, leaning against the arm of the sofa.
"So, where are you guys off to tonight?" I ask, trying to fill the silence whilst Dylan's in his room. he's taking kinda long to just get his stuff.
"Oh, I booked us a slot at this mingolf course, it's got a nice restaurant next to it too, he said on his profile he likes physical activities, so I thought minigolf would be a nice idea," he tells us, and it is a thoughtful idea, Dylan is going to love it.
Speaking of, he's still in his room, which makes me think something's wrong. I twist back, quickly whispering Dylan's name to Harry, who instantly realises what I'm trying to say, excusing himself from his position, walking into Dylan's room, without making a big fuss of everything.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asks, seemingly catching onto it.
"Yeah, I think Dyl is just a little nervous," I tell him, looking back and forth between his door and Sam. I don't know how much longer I can keep this conversation alive without it getting awkward. It's already stretching kind of thin.
"He shouldn't be...he knows I like him so much, and I'm ready whenever he is," he tells me, which confuses me slightly, because I haven't the slightest idea what he's on about.
"Wait, what do you mean you're ready whenever he is? Sorry, if you don't mind me asking, that is?"
"No, not at all! He told me he's not ready for a relationship yet, which is fine, I'm just kinda waiting around so when he's ready, I'll be here," he says, and he says it so innocently. Like he really likes him.
"Oh right!" I agree, trying to sound like I understood everything that was going on, but in reality I was very, very confused. I needed to talk to Dylan about this, and ask what the hell was going on, and hope he'd eventually tell me the truth this time round.
Speak of the devil, his door opened, Dylan walking out, Harry following suit. He gave me a little thumbs up, so I shot Dylan a reassuring look, even though I remained sceptical of it all. He smiled back at me, walking over to Sam, indulging in a short hug, their hands remaining together as they unlatched from each other.
"We'll see you guys soon?" Dylan asked, the two of them finally ready to leave.
"Yeah, you will. Have fun, you guys," Harry told them, sending them off with his well wishes, momentarily melting my heart.
They left, and me and him were left alone yet again.
"What did you say to Dylan? What was wrong with him?" I ask, patting the space next to me. He sat down, his arm wrapping around my shoulder.
"Just that he was anxious about his date, so I told him it was normal to be, and then he asked if I ever got nervous around you, to which I told him I had done, and he seemed to cheer up a little after that," he tells me, and this is news to me.
"You got nervous around me?" I ask, very surprised at this revelation. I thought I would be the only one getting nervous, and I sure as hell was nervous the first few times I'd met him.
"Yeah! You remember that car ride to the Sidemen shoot? I had to psyche myself up before it, I was so close to bailing because I thought I was gonna freak you out, or something. I just really wanted everything to work out with you," he admits, pushing some of his out of his face as he talked.
"Well, if it gives you any relief, whatever you did worked, because I'm the happiest I've been in ages, possibly even my whole life," I tell him, and he looks like he's been rendered speechless.
"I'm glad," is all he says, pressing a brief kiss to my temple, pulling me into him, so I'm resting on his chest.
"Thank you for today," I whisper, drawing small shapes on his shirt, hoping it tickles him slightly.
"It's what I'm here for, right?" He laughs quietly, murmuring into my ear, the perfect way for me to drift off to sleep, him by my side.