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Elena's heart pounded with an urgency that defied control.
Not a single utterance pierced the air during the entire journey with John, the car navigating a path all too familiar—an unwelcome route leading to a place laden with memories she fervently sought to avoid.
The nauseating grip tightened, every palpitation threatening to dislodge the contents of her stomach. Tranquility seemed a distant prospect, and the turmoil within her hinted at a precarious tipping point.
Endless scenarios paraded through her mind, a relentless procession of possibilities. She longed for simplicity—an in-and-out, a resolution neatly packaged and concluded. That's all it needed to be. Yet, a deep-seated intuition whispered that simplicity would elude her. It would stretch, twist, and linger far beyond necessity.
In no way, shape, or form, would David entertain brevity. Not today.
Beyond the apprehension surrounding David's reaction to this clandestine mission, to merely collect clothing and cherished mementos, there lingered a reluctance, a hesitant acknowledgement of John's presence. Despite the depth of trust she held for him, a trust entirely unparalleled, it failed to nullify his actions when under the influence of either one of two things—alcohol, or emotion.
Elena had yet to divulge the whole truth about her tumultuous relationship with David, and wouldn't until she never had to see the man again. John, though privy to odd reactions to loud noises and sudden movements, remained unaware of the intricate web of torment. If John learned the full extent of David's malevolence, he wouldn't be accompanying Elena to retrieve her belongings; he'd be behind bars.
In their childhood, it demanded every ounce of Elena's energy to sway John from the precipice of violence. Those boys, stationed defiantly across the courtyard, seemed hell-bent on making it their life's mission to underscore the fact that Elena wasn't as thin as the other 14-year-old girls at school. A relentless daily reminder that required her utmost effort to dissuade John from unleashing a physical retribution that, in her eyes, wasn't worth it. Every. Single. Day.
In a lot of ways, she would have preferred to relive the secondary school taunting than experience another 30 minutes of David. What John would do in light of knowing the whole story was a scary thought, and one Elena wasn't prepared to even prosper.
"El?"
John's voice brought her out of her head for a moment, and she realised they were pulling up outside the block of flats she hadn't returned to in a fortnight. Swallowing thickly, she willed herself to look at him.
"Are you alright?" his brows narrowed, eyes gleaming into her soul. She gave him a pathetic nod. "Y'know I can always go in myself, if ya just tell me what to pick u–"
"No," she shook her head. "I... need to do this."
"'Kay..." he reluctantly accepted, but quickly added, "I am comin' in with you though."
"John, you don't have t–"
"I'm not arguin' about this, Elena, I'm coming in."
Before she could make any further comment, John was already opening the door and stepping out into the road. A whimper left her mouth, her hand a foreign entity as she, too, pushed the car door open. It wasn't even that hot out, but the sun felt like lasers burning right through every inch it touched. Sturdy trainers felt flimsy, the gravel beneath her feet as blatant as it could get.
She felt she was walking The Mile to her death.
"Hey..." John stopped her as they reached her floor, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder to turn her towards him. Their eyes met, and his stomach dropped at the fear looking back at him. My God, she's terrified... "It's gunna be alright, El. I promise."
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep..." she mumbled, her foot moving to take another step.
"I mean it."
Looking back at him, she mustered up a grateful smile, and nodded slowly. "I know," she whispered.
The air was thick as they reached the door marked '13,' a feature she had once found excitement in—living in a flat with the same number as your birthday. Now, it just reeked of a hapless existence; a far cry from what used to be her sanctuary.
Do I knock? No, Elena, this is your home—oh, shit, it's locked. Where's that fucking spare key? She flipped over the doormat with her foot, expecting to see the familiar metal looking back up at her. Nothing. Fucking prick...
With bated breath, Elena lifted her hand and gave three experimental knocks to the door, each one ringing deeper and deeper through her ears. Please, don't be home... What am I talking about? I need to do this now, I keep wearing the same two outfits, you idiot...
She daren't look up as the door swung open. Instead, she fell eye-level with that stupid striped, skin-tight shirt that became a daily choice of clothing. In and out. Please. God, if you're up there, just let this be simple. Please...
John stood by, arms folded, as the door opened, revealing the man he hadn't seen since December. A tall fucker. Can't have been any shorter than six-foot-four. And there Elena stood, a measly five-foot-seven in comparison. Shaggy dirty-blonde hair that bordered on a light brown, straight and perched just below his jaw. Parted at the side. Twat.
"Elena," David sighed, instantly taking note of John's presence behind her. "Where the fuck have you been? I've been worried si–"
"I don't want to talk," she told him, as sternly as she could. "Just came to get my things..." Without looking him in the eye, she squeezed past him. He looked over at John, his green eyes calm, before they narrowed as he turned to follow Elena.
"What the fuck are you talking about, 'just came to get my things'?"
Elena sighed and spun to look at David, accidentally catching his eyes. The eyes that commanded her every move. Eyes she felt too worthless to meet. That's because you are.
The click of the door shutting reverberated through the room, drawing their attention like a sudden snap of a whip. John, his gaze fixed with unwavering determination, stood his ground, sending a slow nod of reassurance to Elena.
"Did I invite you in?" David's voice sliced through the tense silence, his words laced with thinly veiled hostility as he locked eyes with John.
"Nah, mate, you didn't," John replied with a nonchalant shrug, his gaze flickering past David to Elena. "I'll be here, go get your things, El."
David's movements were swift, a blockade forming as he positioned himself to bar Elena's access to the hallway. "Hold on a sec, darling," he muttered, his voice a deceptive whisper as he edged closer to her, a somewhat predatory gaze fixed on her.
Elena shook her head, her eyes dropping to the ground as she struggled to maintain her composure. "Let me through, David. I'm getting my things, and I'm leaving," she pleaded, her voice strained with emotion. In the charged atmosphere, she could sense David's growing agitation, a palpable tension thickening the air around them.
John, alert to every subtle shift in the room, edged closer, ready to intervene if necessary. He noted the tightening of David's fists with a sense of grim satisfaction, silently grateful for his own presence in that moment.
"Oi," John interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the unease like a knife. "She said let her through, mate. You're not makin' this any easier by being a dick."
Elena's heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for David's reaction, her shoulders instinctively hunching in a familiar stance of self-protection. A heavy breath escaped her lips as David begrudgingly relented, allowing her to slip past him and into the bedroom.
In the sparse living room, devoid of any personal touches, John and David locked eyes in a silent standoff, each sizing the other up with cloaked animosity. David's gaze raked over John's form, his mouth twisting into a snarl of disdain.
"I don't know what she's been telling you," David began, his voice dripping with forced calmness. "I don't know where all this has come from, either." He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to regain control of the situation.
"She's not told me anything," John replied evenly, perching himself on the pine table behind the swamp-green sofa that was most definitely not of Elena's choosing.
"Bollocks!"
"Now, now, no need for the language," John retorted, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone.
David's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Look, we both know how she can get rowdy, and mouthy–"
"Naturally. I have known her since we were kids," John interjected, his patience wearing thin as he pushed back against David's attempts to deflect blame.
"You clearly don't know her very well, then," David shot back, his eyes narrowing in defiance as he locked eyes with John. "Now... I don't want trouble with you, chief. But I think it might be best if you just leave our relationship alone."
"What relationship?" John scoffed, his anger bubbling to the surface. "All I see is a controlling arsehole that, for whatever reason, has made it almost impossible for a girl to come and go as she pleases... Is that enough for your theory on why she's getting as far away from you as possible?"
John watched as David's face contorted with a mixture of disbelief and indignation, his resolve wavering under the weight of the drummer's accusations. Taking a step closer, John met David's gaze head-on, refusing to back down.
"She's not going anywhere, Bonham," David growled, his voice dripping with venom.
With a resigned sigh, John shook his head. "I think she is, actually, Henning..."
Elena emerged from the bedroom, a large bag slung over her shoulder and a cardboard box tucked under her arm. She glanced briefly at David, her expression a dangerous mix of determination and apprehension.
"What the hell are you doing, Elena?" David demanded, his tone laced with desperation. "You can't just walk out like this. I'm all you have. Remember everything I ever told you? You'll have nobody."
Elena's jaw clenched as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "I'll figure it out, David," she replied, her voice firm despite the tremor of fear running through her. "I can't stay here... with you, anymore."
David's eyes narrowed once again, the mask slowly slipping from his facade. "You're making a mistake, Elena," he insisted, taking a step closer to her. "You need me. You need us."
Elena recoiled instinctively as David reached out to grab her wrist, her heart pounding at an instant. "Don't touch me, David," she snapped with a panicked tone.
But David refused to release his grip, his fingers tightening around her wrist. Digging into her skin. "You're not going anywhere," he growled, low and menacing.
With a surge of adrenaline, Elena wrenched her wrist free from David's grasp, her movements quick and decisive—just like the night she fled. "Get off!" she spat, her eyes flashing with anger.
John stepped forward, a protective stance as he positioned himself between Elena and David. "Touch her again, and your jaw will be on the back of your fuckin' head, you piece of shit."
David's face contorted with rage, but he held himself back, his fists clenched at his sides. "Fine," he seethed. "Go then. But don't come crawling back to me when you realise you've made the biggest mistake of your life."
"No, the biggest mistake of my life was saying 'yes' to a drink 3 fucking years ago," Elena squared her shoulders, her resolve unwavering despite the trepidation coursing through her veins. With one final glare at David, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, John following close behind.
As they made their way down to John's car, Elena's steps faltered slightly, her composure fluctuating with every passing movement. John cast a concerned glance her way, noting the tension in her shoulders and the haunted look in her eyes.
"You alright, El?" John asked softly, his voice tinged with worry as he took her things and secured them in the backseat.
Elena forced a tight-lipped smile, her facade inevitably crumbling as they settled into the car. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in silent torrents.
John reached out to comfort her, his hand hovering with uncertainty over her shoulder. "El, it's okay, you did it," he murmured.
But Elena recoiled from his touch, her eyes flashing through an uncharacteristic anguish. "J-Just... drive, p-please... I need to get... get away," she panted, burying her head in her hands.
"Okay, yeah, okay..." he rambled, immediately pulling away from the block of flats.
On their journey back to the Bonhams' house, John couldn't shake the nagging feeling at the back of his head that Elena still hadn't been entirely truthful regarding David. Seeing him grab her the way he did, her instantaneous reaction. There had to be something more. The Elena he knew would have spun around and clobbered the cunt in the face. Except, he reminded himself, this wasn't his Elena. This was a shell of the girl he grew up with. And he vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to coax her back.
Elena felt sick to her stomach. Why do I feel guilty? There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She couldn't understand why she was finding this moment so difficult, so distant from what she expected to feel. Shouldn't she be joyous, over the moon? To finally be free of that monster that controlled her entire life?
David's attempt to physically restrain her back at the flat was the furthest thing triggering her uneven emotions in the car. No, she'd learned to deal with that by now. Above all else, above everything she should have been upset over... she was angry. At herself.
Thankfully, the drive back to John's was long enough for her to get a majority of her emotions out. Crying as hard as she needed. As loud as she needed. John was the only one she would let see her in this state. It had to come out now.
When the erratic breathing and sobbing had worn her out, leaving a red and puffy face in its wake, she was able to regain her bearings somewhat. As much as she enjoyed hearing John ramble on for what seemed like hours, she was glad he chose to stay quiet this time. He knew her well enough to know when's the time to shut the fuck up—when to give her her space.
Upon passing the familiar petrol station, she knew they were almost back. All she wanted to do was pass out. Sleep forever—at least long enough to erase any memory of the past couple of years.
"'M sorry..." she murmured, staring out the window, her eyes still glassy.
John glanced at her, checking in, before scoffing lightly and shaking his head. "You're the last person who needs to be apologising right now."
"No, I mean..." she turned her head in his direction, but kept her eyes on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry for snapping at you... earlier. And that you got caught up in–" her breath caught in her throat, "In all that."
He chuckled airily under his breath, a somewhat amused smile on his lips. "And like I just said... You're not the one who needs to apologise." Stopping at a red light, he had the chance to look at her head-on. "Seriously. It's okay. Everything's gunna be okay, El."
Upon looking up at his eyes, those warm, trusting eyes she'd found solace in for so many years, came the first wave of relief. A sudden realisation. Instead of David's nagging voice in the back of her head, reminding her of her shortcomings, she heard a different one. A distant whisper from a fragile conversation she'd only ever had with one person.
You've done the hardest part...
No idiot would do something so brave...
With a shaky sigh, she nodded, smiling almost painfully at John. "Yeah..." she whispered her agreement. "Everything's gonna be okay..." she repeated, almost as a self-assuring mantra as she looked ahead. "The light's green," she nodded her head towards the traffic lights in front of them.
"Shit," John pressed down on the gas pedal, a comically panicked look on his face that made Elena stifle a small laugh. A laugh. A real laugh...
It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna be okay.
The air was lighter by the time they pulled up to John's driveway, and it seemed the sun wasn't as menacing as it was before. Catching a glimpse of Pat in one of the windows put yet another smile on her face, as if another reminder that there is life outside of David. He'd damaged her mind. Tainted all of her thoughts. It wouldn't go away overnight, but being with the Bonhams was a refreshing prompt along the road to understanding she was free.
And she never had to see David Henning ever again.
"'Ere, let me get that," John offered, pulling Elena's bag from the back of the car and slugging it over his shoulder. "Fuck, what do you have in here, the kitchen sink?"
Snorting, Elena lifted the box into her arms, nudging the car door shut with her knee. "It's the jeans and those jackets, Bon..."
"Oh, those fuckin' jackets are massive!" he gasped, as if he had forgotten.
"Yeah, but they look good on," she smirked, watching her steps as they made their way to the front door. John's face dropped a little when he tried the handle, finding it locked.
"The fuck's goin' on 'ere..." Turning around abruptly, he almost collided with Elena. "Back door."
"Jesus, do you mind not body slamming me in the process?" she mumbled, spinning round in the direction of the gate that led to the Bonhams' back garden.
As they closed in, the familiar laughter of Jason could be heard, along with some clumsy clapping.
"Do it again!" The sound of someone's shoes coming into contact with a football followed. Jason cheered again, his adorable cadence putting a smile on Elena's face.
The smile, however, seemed to widen when she heard familiar laughter—and it definitely wasn't Pat.
Rounding the corner of the house, the heartwarming scene of Jason kicking his football towards a carefree Robert unfolded.
"Again!"
"Can only do a single trick so many times, Jason," Robert chuckled, but humoured the three-year-old, performing a brief dribble with a concentrated face. Far from a trick, but enough to mesmerise Jason in his innocent joy.
"Well if it isn't Bobby Thomson," John called out, catching the pair off guard.
Robert's eyes went instantly to Elena's, and he flashed that charming smile her way, before swiftly giving John attention. "Nah, mate, Thomson's a left backer. I'm more of a Derek Dougan," he said, attempting an Irish accent in the process.
"Who tha fuck's Derek Dougan?"
Jason gasped, his presence momentarily subdued. "Mummy!" He ran inside, all whilst shouting, "Daddy just said a bad word!" Elena stifled a laugh, watching over her shoulder as his small form disappeared.
The blonde froze, giving his band mate a dumbfounded expression. "I don't trust you anymore, Bonzo."
Elena, with an amused smirk, glanced up at John. "Dougan's a midfielder," she let him know. John just simply let out an exasperated groan, shrugging his shoulders. "He's also Irish..." She looked at Robert. "Hence the terrible accent," she teased lightly. Her eyes still felt heavy from the car journey, but jesting with Robert came as naturally as breathing.
"I didn't know you were into football, Elena," Robert tilted his head to the side, hand on his hip. The small gesture and placement caught Elena's attention, just like he had done at rehearsal. Everything about the man screamed appeal, in every sense of the word.
"I'm not," she simply responded with a shrug of her shoulders. There was a pause between the three of them and it didn't take very long for the two men to understand why Elena happened to know so much about football. She may have not been the one in her home—ex home—watching football, but she sure got a lot of it from David.
"Uh, I'm gonna take this inside before it cuts off the circulation to my brain," John quipped, patting Elena's bag. "Ya want a cuppa, Rob?"
Great, Elena, you've made it awkward now... Fucking idiot. You can't say anything without fucking it u–
"El?"
"Hm?" she snapped her head to John. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
"I asked if you wanted a cuppa," he repeated gently, a sympathetic gaze matching his tone. She gave him a passive nod, turning to follow him and Robert inside. Her fingers were starting to lock up from gripping onto the bottom of the cardboard box, so she instantly dropped it down on the kitchen table once they'd entered.
"What's with the box?" Robert nodded towards it, casually nosing about in the kitchen with, yet again, his hands settled on his hips. The poor lad didn't even realise how beautiful he looked as he inspected all the photos and magnets on the Bonhams' fridge. Eyebrows all narrowed as he focused his eyes, a subconscious curling of his mouth that naturally stretched over his strong jaw.
Elena, pack it in. It's Robert. Stop.
"Um," she cleared her throat, resting a hand on top of the box. "It's just got all these photos and random things in it that are important to me. Memories, I guess..." she trailed off.
"Oh, fantastic!" Robert chimed, hair bouncing about as he turned to look at her. "Got any embarrassing photos of Bonzo in there?"
She chuckled, glancing at said man, who was busy preparing tea. "None that don't also embarrass me." She carefully lifted the lid halfway off the box and strategically fished out a small stack of processed photographs that were a little worn by now, tied together by an elastic band. Robert's footsteps came closer, until his presence was right next to her, the warmth radiating from his body.
"What happened to the corners?"
Elena pulled her lips into a tight line, eyeing the damaged corners of the lid of the box, darker than the rest of it, and requiring the utmost of care. "Nothing, just an accident..." she shrugged it off.
He peered over her shoulder, feeling a small jump in his heart at being this close to her again. He had to suppress the idiotic grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her hair... Nothing appealed to him more in that moment than to run his fingers through it.
"Oh, this was when we went camping," Elena smiled, holding up a photo labelled 'Bon-Bon + El, Lake District, July 1964.' "Bon had just finished school, so we decided to go up North for a couple of days."
Robert tilted his head down to get a better look, snorting at the boyish expression on John's face, equipped with the adolescent beginning stages of growing out a moustache. But the 15-year-old Elena made his smile soften. She looked happy there. Wrapped up in an earthy orange cardigan, stray blades of grass stuck to her legs from pitching a tent.
"Not that fuckin' photo," John whined, glancing over at them. "I look like a right knobhead!"
"Well, you always look like a knobhead, Bonzo," Robert fired back with a smirk, looking back down at the photo. "It's a lovely photo."
"Eh..." she squirmed a little with a shrug. "It's cute. John looks good in it, at least." She carefully slipped it back in with the rest of the photos.
"You do, as well," Robert gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow.
"Pfft, I look fat in it."
John's hand stopped mid-milk pour, eyes diverting to the side as he overheard Elena's comment. Since when does she think she looks fat? Scrunching up his eyebrows, he finished making their teas. Even the comments from schoolboys didn't influence her own perception of herself. Weird. But then, it hit him. Fuckin' David...
"No, you look nice," Robert refuted, shaking his head. A glance at her showed she didn't believe him. "Seriously, yer cute."
At the counter, John's eyebrows raised, and a shocked smile appeared on his face. Well, shit, just jump right in, Percy...
Elena raised an eyebrow, looking up at Robert, who was still looking over her shoulder. Panic briefly flashed through his eyes and he chuckled airily, shifting back.
"It's a cute photo, that is..." With a somewhat subdued smile, he went over to John to take his tea. Elena was left to mull over the minute interaction. Seriously, yer cute... No, it didn't mean anything... Can't have.
"'Ere y'are," John appeared next to her, offering her cup of tea. She gave him a smile in gratitude, immediately sipping at it, the fresh heat of it snapping her out of the overtime her brain had unwillingly subscribed to. "Anyway, why're you here, Rob?"
"What, I can't just come and see how you're doing?" Robert squinted his eyes, shielding half of his expression with the mug of tea in his hand.
John stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions, totally unconvinced by his response. "You've just seen me every day for months, mate..." He watched as Robert came up with an unnecessarily detailed reason for his visit, claiming he wanted to see how Pat and Jason were doing, and how the house was... the fucking house. But when all was said and done, John wasn't passive enough to miss the plain and obvious reason for Robert's presence.
Elena.
But he'd let it slide. No need to embarrass lil Robert Anthony...
Besides, how could John ruin this moment? It wasn't a foreign sight; Elena's eyes often lit up in the presence of Robert, whether she realised it or not. He was a mere observer to a natural conversation about Robert's hair. She commented on how it had grown out since she last saw him. How much it suited him. Shamelessly, yet subconsciously, lavishing him with small compliments as if they'd never parted.
Unlike his response to the hoards of girls who usually gave him such praise on the road, Robert seemed to reduce down to that teenage boy who saw Elena for the first time, as bright and radiant as any sunbeam dancing across the lilypad of an oasis. He'd take what he could get.
"Oh, there is a reason I'm here, actually," Robert remembered, pointing his mug at John. "Uh, Jim and I are gunna head down to Snowdonia for a couple of weeks to work on some new material. Just thought, with us three being back together 'n' all, we could go out for a few drinks before I go?" He let the question hang in the air for a second, looking between the two of them in a patient standby.
John and Elena exchanged glances, as though telepathically asking each other's opinion. Eventually, like clockwork, they both shrugged and nodded.
"Don't see why not," Elena softly accepted Robert's offer, smiling up at him with a cadence akin to restrained excitement. "I mean... I don't think I've actually been out for a nice drink in a... long time," she huffed with a chuckle, attempting to conceal her melancholy recollection of the last time she'd had a good time with anyone at all.
Robert's gaze softened as he picked up on her implication, sending her a sideways smile that ignited a warm buzz in her stomach.
"Well, this is your new beginning, El," John started with his usual grin of reassurance. "What better way to kick it off with a drink with two of the finest men you've ever known?" He paused, glancing at Robert. "Well, one and a half."
Robert sent him a jesting glare, but his mind, as prone to addiction as it was, stayed adhered to Elena, and the excitement it brung to accept his offer for a drink.
Even if it was dressed up as an innocent gathering of friends.
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