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A Hard Habit To Break

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"Just go, Jon." 

"No." He said, running his fingers through his hair.

"Why not? What's the worst that can happen?" 

"Because," he paused, "just no, I can't."

"Stop being an immature idiot, Jon. You're going, end of."

Jon slammed the phone down and threw his head back against the wall in a huff. It had been over a year since he'd last set eyes on his ex in person. He took his mind back to March 1987 when he switched on the TV - specifically to Top of the Pops.

And at number one, Boy George with Everything I Own! 

He let the glass he was holding slip through his fingers and smash on the floor. Even when they weren't together, he was sticking the finger up at him. Jon felt the anger boil. How could he? He remembered the last thing he'd said to him - you'll never make it without me. Well, he really did look like an idiot now.

Every now and then, he'd see the image of George flying high without him - high being the operative word. Of course he'd heard all of the vicious rumours that had been circulating and even though that he still hated him, that hatred did stem from half a decade of intense love after all and so he couldn't help but fill with rage each time someone bad mouthed him.

The night drew in and he spent most of it vacantly lying awake. The hours dragged by agonisingly as he could feel the anxiety bubbling. So much had changed since they last met and he was certain that George was going to be ten times more smug than before. What was he supposed to say to him? He'd failed starting up with another band and he spent almost every night drinking followed by waking up in the right side of the wrong bed, whereas he had instant success. Another bottle of whisky gone, it was the only way that he could fall asleep these days. 


Cautiously, he stepped into the fancy looking café and instantly found what he was looking for. Immediately, George looked up with an awkward but sincere smile which Jon felt obliged to return.

"Tea?" He asked, calling someone over. 

Jon nodded. He had entirely underestimated how much he missed his voice and how much he craved to hear it. He was still thin, but looked so much better than when he saw him last. The glow on his cheeks had come back and his eyes looked much more alive, Jon almost felt himself swoon a little. 

"So," he began nervously, "how have you been?" 

"Alright," Jon mimicked George's tone, "you?" 

"Yeah, good." He answered, looking away. 

They were presented with two overpriced teas and dwelled in the awkward silence that consumed them. 

After what seemed like an eternity, they began chatting - it was as if the past had never happened, like they were old friends. Although, they had never been friends and they both knew that they never could be.

"You know what, we should just sack this poncey place off and go back to mine." George suggested, "what'd you reckon?"

"Why not?" Jon beamed. 

George linked with Jon's arm and almost carried him out as they hurried back to George's place.


As he walked in, Jon couldn't help but compare it to how it had been. 

"Oh, you've moved some stuff around." Jon said, taking the cup that George was presenting.

"Yeah," George looked around, "just a few bits and pieces."

"It's nice." He replied, with a little pain in his voice. 

They took a swig of the tea and continued chatting, it was almost like the previous six years hadn't even happened!

"It's funny that it's going so well, isn't it?" Jon asked.

George laughed in response. 

"Where did it all go so wrong?" Jon said with a sense of melancholy. 

"Let's not, eh?" George gave him a weak smile.

All of a sudden, Jon jolted himself - consequently, spilling his tea all over his lap. He jumped up, knocking more boiling liquid about. George grabbed the nearest piece of fabric and tried to dry Jon and the sofa up.

"I'm so sorry!" Jon exclaimed as he obliviously leant into George's face. 

In shock, George looked up. They'd underestimated how close they would be. Jon could feel his heart rate increasing and his breathing intensifying. Their noses were on the brink of touching. In a moment of madness, Jon went in and closed the gap between them. Frantically, they both leaped back. 

"I'm sorry!" Jon shouted, "I should go, I'm sorry." 

He manically gathered his things and ran towards the door. George followed, grabbing Jon's arm and twisting him back around, continuing what Jon had started. Jon let his jacket hit the floor as he put one hand on George's shoulder and another around the back of his neck, while George placed his hands on Jon's cheeks. 

"Well, it's been a while since that's happened." George laughed as they panted breathlessly. 

"Still feels the same, you really are a hard habit to break." Jon smiled shyly. 

George gazed at him all over and smirked.

"How about a trip down memory lane?" George inquired seductively. 

"Who am I to resist such a kind offer?" He giggled as he followed George to his room.

In that moment, it was as if nothing had changed and perhaps, in reality, not much really had.