I have tendinitis in my hand BUT GUESS WHO'S WRITING ANYWAY?
Comment if you find the TMI ref that I tried to do?
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"Honey, I'm home!"
I glanced over my shoulder from the couch as Jamie opened the door to his flat, a handful of shopping bags swaying dangerously around his wrist as he stumbled through the doorway.
I grinned, "And how was that, my precious shopaholic?"
Jamie pouted, placing the bags down on the bench. "Just because you hate shopping and I tolerate it, doesn't make me a shopaholic."
I got off the couch and walked over to him, pecking his cheek. "Nah, you loooove shopping. You have better fashion sense than me, and therefor more clothes, and therefor must love shopping."
"Is that the universal logical reasoning for diagnosing someone as a shopaholic?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yup," I responded, helping Jamie unload the bags. I reached into one bag, and my hands felt something papery, and round, so I pulled it out and inspected it.
A bath bomb. From Lush. I held it out to Jamie questioningly.
He laughed. "What? I was curious! The lady was very nice, and I'm going to enjoy a lovely bath tonight while you can sulk in your own flat and be judgmental about it by yourself." He crossed his arms, frowning like an annoyed five-year-old.
"Jamie, you don't have a bath ."
His eyes narrowed. "Yes I do?"
"No... our flats are identical, right? I don't have a bath tub..."
Jamie smirked. "Well, I do, so you're just missing out." He poked his tongue out at me.
This is an injustice. "That's so unfair! Why don't I have a bath tub?"
Jamie shrugged. "Because, my flat is cooler than yours. And no, I know what you're thinking and you can't join me in the bath just because you don't have one. That's ridiculous. We would never all fit."
"What, all two of us? And no, that wasn't what I was thinking."
"I think my legs are long enough to count for a third person, and it totally was what you were thinking," Jamie teased, turning back to the bags.
"Wasn't." I grumbled, sorting through the bags again, too.
"Sure."
I cooked that night, and then after, Jamie decided he was going to indulge in his bath, and I decided to indulge in starting to watch Finding Nemo without him. That is, before I heard Jamie's yells from the bathroom.
"Heidi!"
I got up and walked to the bathroom, leaning against the closed door. "Yes?"
"The bath water has become the most shocking shade of purple and there's bubbles everywhere and why does my skin feel so.. so.. soft?"
I giggled. "Enjoying yourself?"
A pause.
"Will the bath water dye my skin purple?"
I smirked. "...Maybe."
I hear panicked sloshing sounds from the other side of the door. "Wait, really?!"
I bit my lip, holding back a laugh. "I said maybe! You'd look good in purple anyway."
A horrified gasp. "I do not look good in purple! You know, they made me wear it to a premier once and it was horrible and I just wanted to take some scissors and-"
"Jamie, sit your ass back down in the tub and stop worrying. You're not going to be Violet from Willy Wonka." I reassured him, cutting off his rant.
"I certainly hope not, did I tell you purple isn't my colour?"
I sighed. "Whatever, the longer you spend in there, the more Finding Nemo you're going to miss."
"It's a movie about some Dad who loses his physically disabled son and goes on a mission to find him with the help of a mentally disabled woman - and then it's fish-ified! I'll take my time, thanks!"
I pouted, leaning off the door. "Is "complaints" the secret ingredient in that bath bomb? You just insulted my favourite movie, and the colour purple."
"I'm the world's worst human being." His voiced dripped with sarcasm.
"More like human string-bean," I muttered as I made my way back to the couch.
"I heard that!"
Luck didn't seem to stay with me, because five minutes into the movie, Jamie still in the bath - hopefully not drowning - I heard the buzz of a phone ringing on vibrate. I pushed myself up and padded back over to kitchen, to see the screen of Jamie's phone lit up. I examined the screen, glancing at the Caller I.D.
"Management."
I couldn't answer it for him, so I pushed the phone away and made my way back to the couch, curling my legs underneath me. I bit my lip, it seemed that life wanted to constantly remind me that here wasn't Jamie's home at all.
First, it was London. First it was seeing Jamie's home, his parents, his cheeky little brother. First it was watching him speak about London with a kind of loving look on his eye, first it was following him around the bustling streets that he seemed to know so well.
Was there irony in that London was the first time he told me he loved me? Or was it so fitting for him, to be in his home, and just so out of place for me, who was miles away from any familiarity?
Second, it was back home. It was just a few nights ago, when we went for dinner, and some fans said hello. Second, because not only was London Jamie's home, but he had a job there, a huge job, full of fame and movies and catwalks and photoshoots and glamour that my life paled to near translucency in comparison with, and my mind became a overwhelmed again at the thought.
Because again, that was all in London, and yet here we were, miles away.
And lastly, it was the fact that Jamie's management was calling him, because it meant that the London life was calling him back, it was almost a literal wake up call that Jamie was only here on break, that the life Jamie had in his proper home was not something that could just stop.
A sharp pain in my lip snaps me out of it, and I realise that I'd been gnawing at my lip furiously the whole time. The salty taste of blood teases my tongue, but I use it as a distraction from my previous thoughts, as I turn my attention back to the movie.
A short while later, a clean Jamie who smells strongly of lavender clambered onto the couch.
"My skin didn't turn purple," he announced.
I yawned. "A shame."
Jamie shuffled so that I was suddenly lying under him, and he was hovering over me. "Missed you."
I smile up at him. "Missed you too."
He leant down and captured my lips in his, and I arched back up to answer, taking Jamie's hand. Jamie hummed against my mouth, teeth grazing gently along my lower lip...
And then the stinging sensation, again.
Jamie pulled back. "Your lip's bleeding, was that me?"
I shook my head. "I was biting at it before."
Jamie cocked his head. "You only bite your lip when you're worried."
Damn him for being so observant. There was no point lying, so I nodded.
Jamie silently sat back on his knees and pulled our joined hands so that we were sitting, and I leaned into his side, his arm around me. "What's worrying you?"
I decided to go with the half truth. "Nothing important, but management did call you while you were in the bath."
Jamie tutted. "I should probably call them back, sorry baby," he murmured, getting off the couch and heading towards the kitchen.
I just pressed a finger to my lip, examining the crimson red stain on my fingertip as I pulled it away, sighing.
Jamie was on the phone for what I guess could have been fifteen minutes before he returned, but when he did, he still had the phone nestled in the crook of his shoulder, eyes flickering over my exhausted state. "Don't bother waiting up for me, I think I'm going to be talking for a while," he smiled weakly, "Go to bed."
I nodded sleepily, returning his smile before getting up and walking over to him, pecking his cheek and whispering "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Jamie mouthed back, and I turned, leaving him to his phone call.
I didn't really intend to wait up for him, but I still found myself still awake an hour after I'd flicked the light off, curled up under the covers, eyes shut, thinking.
I heard the door click open, and soon after, felt the bed sink as Jamie shuffled under the covers behind me. A pause.
"Heidi?"
It was one word, just my name, but I hadn't expected the tone, the emotion behind it. It sounded sad, and nervous, and uncertain. I reached my hand back behind me to take his, squeezing reassuringly. "Yes?"
More shuffling, until I could feel Jamie's chest pressed to my back, mouth by my ear.
"I..I love you."
The tone was still there, but I was too tired to chase it up now, Jamie's warmth and my exhaustion beckoning me into unconsciousness. "I love you too."
I was far gone, but just not far enough to hear him say, "That's the problem," before dropping off to sleep.
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I love Frank Iero.
That is all.