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parties were never my thing. constantly dodging people, stumbling on my words, getting too drunk to remember anything, sleeping with strangers– none of which i enjoyed.

tonight’s party was no different.

i ended up in bed with some girl i’d never see again and snuck out before she could notice. i drank so much i almost blacked out. i left every conversation i was in.

and when i left for good, i somehow found my flat and felt exhaustion hit as soon as the door closed. i slumped to the floor and sighed. another night wasted with strangers and meaningless sex.

someday i’d let myself process my feelings.

someday i’d accept the idea of love.

but tonight felt different from the rest. tonight felt worse than any other night. maybe it was the lack of care i held for myself most days finally creeping up on me, or maybe i was too drunk to think right.

either way, i grabbed my phone and called the first number that came to mind. no part of me cared that it was nearly three in the morning.

“hello…?”

“graham, hey. look, i know it’s late, but i just had to talk to someone.”

“you know i was sleeping very peacefully before this.”

“i know, i’m sorry- you’re just the only one i can talk to.”

“none of your girlfriends care enough to listen or what?”

“i don’t have any girlfriends.”

“then who’d you sleep with tonight?”

“how’d you know?”

“you went to a party, it’s not hard to guess. especially with you.”

“well, in my defense, i don’t remember her name and i’ll probably never see her again.”

“boyfriend of the year, damon albarn.”

“fuck off.”

i heard a little chuckle, which made me smile. truth be told i really did fancy him, probably more than i should. i never let myself go as far as telling him, but writing songs and doing stupid things in interviews was enough for now.

“so what’s up? what’s so important that you can only tell me?”

“i don’t know. i go to party after party and it’s all the same. i can’t seem to find them amusing anymore.”

“maybe you need to step back for a bit, get laid other ways.”

“it’s not about the meaningless sex, graham. it’s about feeling normal, feeling okay again. i don’t know how but nothing makes sense anymore.”

he fell silent as i played with the bits of carpet sticking out from the floor. did i somehow find a way to upset him? did he fall asleep again?

“damon…”

“what?”

“i, uh… oh forget about it.”

“tell me.”

“it’s rubbish, you wouldn’t understand it.”

“try me, coxon.”

he sighed. a common way of him showing defeat.

“can i come over and tell you face to face?”

i looked like i’d been hit by a bus. the entire flat was a mess. but none of that mattered. graham was more important than looking decent.

“yea, the door will be unlocked for you.”

“thanks. i’ll get dressed and shit and then i’ll see you when i get there.”

“okay.”

“goodbye, dames.”

“bye, graham.”

i dropped the phone to my lap and stared at the wall, feeling a headache coming but being way too lazy to care. it wouldn’t take long for him to get here but i had no intentions of cleaning myself up nor even getting up and moving to the couch.

what the hell do you think you’re doing, damon? are you trying to kill yourself?!

maybe i am, graham. maybe i like the view.

well you can enjoy it back here, next to me.

you ever think about me?

what?

you know… do you ever think about you and me?

together? like dating?

or more, yea.

damon, i-i don’t know. i think you’re lovely but-

no, it’s fine. it’s no big deal.

it must be if you’re trying to jump right now.

i told you i like the view.

of what, the image of your dead body down there? you like the thought of everybody feeling such tremendous guilt because you left us? is that view pretty to you?

no.

then why do this? why piss your life away this way?

i just want to feel normal again, to feel okay again. and nothing works anymore. nothing makes me happy.

nothing?

none of this makes any fucking sense, graham. nothing! i can’t fucking do it anymore!

yes you can.

not for much longer.

i woke from the sudden sleep i’d fallen under to find graham sitting in front of me with worry in his eyes.

“hey, sleepyhead,” he smiled. something i realized i missed seeing every night.

“hey,” i mumbled. as much as i wanted to talk to him and let it all out, i couldn’t bring myself to. he was so innocent and wondrous compared to me.

“sorry if me coming here wasn’t okay with you. i just had to see you.”

“i enjoy the company.” he ran his fingers through his hair and looked to the floor.

“when you called and i heard your voice, i assumed the worst. i’ve always assumed the worst since that night on the roof with you.”

“oh, yea. that night.”

“the things you were saying felt like déjà vu to me, and i couldn’t let myself be the reason you tried to do it again. i didn’t want to lose you… i don’t want to lose you.”

“graham…”

“damon, i came over here to make sure you were alright. clearly you aren’t.”

“i’m okay.”

“i don’t think you’ve been okay since that night. whatever made you go to that roof and even think about jumping, it’s still in your head. part of you still wants to jump.”

he locked eyes with me and sighed.

“i didn’t come here to lecture you. i don’t want you to feel obligated to talk to me, but i want to help you.”

“i don’t know what the hell to tell you. there’s nothing i can say that would make this okay.”

“try me.”

“graham, i… i think i’m in love with you. and i can’t let it go. i can’t stop thinking about it. every party i go to i’m always thinking about you, and how much better it’d be with you there. i can’t stop writing songs about you. i can’t stop myself from getting drunk to forget about you. i don’t know what to do anymore. you clearly don’t feel the same way.”

i looked away and almost stood up and left. just have him alone with my stupid confession while i fuck off somewhere and hopefully don’t make it back alive. but something in me wouldn’t let me go. something made me stay with him and endure the inevitable rejection once more.

“you love me?”

“i think i do, yea.”

“how long?”

“i don’t know, a few months i suppose.”

“so you felt this way that night, too?”

“yea.”

he readjusted his glasses and offered a small smile.

“if i tell you something, will you promise not to judge me for it? or call me a fucking hypocrite?”

“you know i can’t promise that.”

“well, i know what i told you that night. that i didn’t feel the same way.”

“and that’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“damon, i do feel the same way. it terrifies me that i do. i’m stuck with myself as much as you are and i didn’t think i had the right to even tell you after i acted like that.”

i looked at him with shock and wonder covering my every move. was he lying? was he trying to be sympathetic?

“you feel the same way?”

“i do.”

“but… i’m a fuckin’ mess.”

he smiled and cupped my face with his somehow soft hands.

“i know, and i love you for it. makes me think i don’t have to be so perfect.”

i grinned and almost fell into his chest as i moved closer to him. somehow we both realized i was still drunk off my ass and he backed away quickly.

“are you gonna remember this in the morning?”

“of course i will. how could i forget?”

“you’re gonna have a hangover.”

“and i’ll have you by my side.”

“you want me to stay the night?”

duh.”

he chuckled a bit and immediately felt at ease once again. i couldn’t help myself from staring at how attractive his smile was. how his glasses perfectly fit his face. how he bit his lip from being too nervous.

and somehow i got lucky with him. somehow he fell for me too.