Straw hat, sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip flops. Wheeled suitcase knocking between his knees. Specks of rain just about reach his toes every time the doors open. He’s a victim of optimism, assuming the summer of wherever he was would pass it’s baton to London. His heart must’ve broken when the plane hit the runway. 
All that holiday rest instantly converted to stress.
Steph asked what the weather was like before she left, I said don’t get your hopes up. Worst part is, it was sunny this morning.

I was at arrivals early. Beyond early. (Two and a half hours early) Before Steph landed I was on my fifth tea. Don’t know how much of this overwhelming excitement I have right now is down to love or caffeine.

A nervous giddiness keeps us from sitting down, leaning on whatever’s comfortable at the end of the carriage and talking over the noise like we’re in a house party kitchen. 
Steph tells me about The Intern, a film she watched just before landing. It sounds good, but I reckon her abridged interpretation is better than the film itself. As the train slows for a stop she presses her hand against my stomach and I get self conscious. I’ve softened in the two months since we’ve seen each other last. A lot of big macs to fill the big gaps. She leans into it, smiles at me, and squeezes. 

I lit a few candles in my flat so it can be romantic when we go back. there’s a rising fear a stray candle fell and the flat is on fire. (The flat is on fire)
The flat is not on fire. (The flat is on fire)
The flat is on fire. (That flat is not on fire)

Lean into my peripheral, Straw hat’s long gone. We’re in the middle of central London now. Steph is going into grim detail on how bad the vegan food on the plane was. The way she goes on about the cherry tomatoes makes me crack up.The train is packed but it still feels like we’re alone. A Londoners testament to the sanctity of personal space.

As if I was tempting fate, a pair of eyes crawl up my skin. I catch him, in the same place Straw Hat was. Staring at Steph and I with all the steely-eyed determination of a TV detective searching for a clue. It’s obvious that there’s something about us that makes him disapprove. Maybe because we’re laughing too much. Or my hand round her waist. A valance of eye bags drooped across his face. He catches my gaze and turns away. That’s what I thought, mate.

The man gets up at the next stop and he’s giving us a glance, I’ve got a “fuck off” cocked in response to whatever remark he’s got. The doors open and he looks me in the eye, saying “It’s rare to see a love like that”

His voice breaks on the “See” as if just to bringing those words to the surface required him having to go deep inside himself. To say the words. To say it on a train. I don’t say fuck off. I almost say thank you. I just say nothing and nod.
   

He gets off. Steph looks at me and says “what a creep” Yeah, proper.

Arrivals.

Solo Savage

Lil song i wrote inspired by Jeff Buckley

message my mind

english rose - the jam cover

If you listen rly hard you can hear Bella snoring

We’ll never have sex - Leith Ross cover

if i stay

The greatest, most inspirational man on planet earth.

jake the snake

CM PunK.R.I.T.

Nature Boy 08 Track 08 1

I do not own the rights to any of the tracks written within the [ ] brackets.

Arrivals.

See You When I Get There

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