The 1975 - Medicine - (Vevo Presents: Live at The O2, London)


That was it. Enough was enough. She was finished of feeling like she wasn’t good enough for him, that she wasn’t worthy of him. Because, she was. She was so much more than him.

Tonight was the last straw. A charity ball, his mum’s. He held the power of who would be going as his entourage. Obviously the boys, but she just assumed that that included her, also. Apparently not.

His girlfriend of fifteen minutes- well… almost two years but still. She’d been there for almost nine now. Pining over him. Him telling her that she was his and her believing that he was hers. He was never hers though, but, he always made her feel like he was. For nine years people have questioned their relationship - cute, cuddly, flirtatious, sexual tension, but it always got the same anti-climax. “No, we’re just mates, really close that we don’t even realise we’re doing it.”

That was only half true. They didn’t realise how they came across to others in front of others, but it just seemed like a natural thing anyway. But they weren’t just ‘mates’ as he always claimed. They were more than that. She was in love with him. He knew that, used it to his advantage quite regularly. Sex. Any time, any place, he got it. Even with him having a girlfriend.

She knew it was wrong, but, it always made her feel better about their relationship. That, even though he had his girlfriends, he never wanted to give up whatever fucked up thing he had with her. Because he loved her. They just couldn’t be together, not right now. That’s what she had been repeatedly telling herself for years. The timing was off. So, she waited patiently for him, waited as he snuck off for a quick shag off some random that he met after one of his gigs, then came back to her; waited as he met the first serious one- Gemma- and tried to convince herself at first that it wasn’t anything to worry about but it was; waited as that ended and she thought maybe, just maybe they could finally be together, they were older now, they weren’t kids anymore, but it wasn’t right for him, he didn’t want to rush into anything new after Gemma, he was a bit cut up about it; she waited as he spent a good year and a half single and only wanting her; she waited as he met this new one and, again, tried to convince herself that it wasn’t anything serious but it was. Now she had given up waiting. She was exhausted. She was angry.

Yesterday, a phone call from his mum, wishing her good luck on her interview and telling her she was gutted she wouldn’t be able to see her tonight. She didn’t have an interview. He had told his mum that. An excuse to cover up the fact that he didn’t plan on her attending. His girlfriend would be taking her place. Anger. Then, a phone call from him, there had been a misunderstanding with the seating plan, he was adamant that he put her on the list, that she was sat at their table, he tried to fix it but it was too late, they were all to meet up at the hotel afterwards though, they’d all get drinks then head out. He’d get her at the hotel. Oh, she’d make sure of that.

In the hotel room she sat, shaking, wanting to believe that it was from anger but she knew it was nerves. She had sent her best friend off to meet up with everyone, she’d get them down in the hotel bar, she wouldn’t take long, just had to phone her mum. Then, she texted him, telling him she needed to see him, it was important, wouldn’t take long. So there she sat, waiting, a glass of wine poured well over the suggested measurement of the glass, eyes glued to the hotel room door, until he knocked on it lightly, her heart beat racing once he did.

Steadily, she stood to her feet, clad in aggressively high heel and walked slowly to the door, opening it to reveal him, his eyes instantly taking in her body- clad in a satin black dress that revealed too much cleavage and too much leg- basically shagging her in his mind.

“Alright, babe?” He leaned in, attempting to kiss her on the lips swiftly, but he was met by her cheek, noticing how she had purposely refused him of her plump, glossy lips.

She turned, walked towards the cabinet supplied by the hotel, got him a glass and then followed by a small bottle of red wine, Malbec, his usual choice of preference.

“How was the ball?” Her tone monotonous, her back to him, pouring the wine.

“S’alright, you didn’t miss much. Not really yours or my scene.” He was behind her. His breath hitting her neck, making the hairs on it stand up as he spoke. His hands sliding across the satin material of her dress around her waist, pulling her to his chest, his lips leaving soft kisses on her shoulder. He was feeling guilty. She could tell.

She stared blankly ahead at the cabinet door in front of her, not even slightly enamoured with his affection. If this situation was different, she would be, and her lace thong would be around her ankles right now. Turning in his arms, she pushed the glass of wine into his chest before brushing past him.

“Did the boys enjoy it?” Walking to retrieve her own glass of wine, she was hoping to avoid eye contact with him for the time being.

“Eh… they said they did… not sure if they were just trying to be polite for my mum’s sake though.” He was eyeing her warily now, he could sense she was being off with him, hoping that it was just one of those bitchy moods she goes in with him sometimes, hoping that she hadn’t found out.

“How is your mum?” She picked up her glass of wine and sipped at it slowly, her back still facing him.

“She’s good. She asked for you. Said to say she was sorry about the shit with the guest list and table arrangements.” He walked over to one of the one-seater chairs provided by the hotel and sat on the edge of it, his subconscious using his choice in seating to represent how he was feeling- on edge.

“That’s alright, it’s not her fault.” It was his.

He took a gulp of wine and wiped his stained lips with the back of his hand, a habit of his she was constantly nipping at him about. He watched her as she swirled her rose wine in the glass, still not looking at him. Her posture relaxed in the opposite arm chair, legs crossed, dress hitched up slightly more due to her seated position, her other hand –free of the glass of wine- hanging lazily off of the arm rest.

It was silent as they sipped at each of their glasses, her still not looking at him, him watching her, anticipating her next move. She was too quiet, too nonchalant. Something was wrong.

“Are you pissed off with me or something, Pix?” He purposely used one of the nicknames he had given her many years ago, now a normal thing for everyone to call her ‘Pixie’, ‘Tink’ or ‘Minnie’. Pixie because she was small, like a fair as he would sometimes say, and it added to her cute, shy, sensitive side that she sometimes portrayed around him, Tink to correlate with the ‘small’ attribute and also with ‘Minnie’ as she loved Disney, thus, her love for Tinkerbell and Minnie Mouse.

“No.” Her pitch increasing, her tone too sweet. He knew that she either was pissed off or that she was looking for something.

“Right… we should go then.” Standing, he finished off his glass of wine in a few, large gulps and turned to make his way towards the door. “Everyone’s down stairs and they’ll be wondering-“

“It’s just, I found something really funny and thought I’d share with you.” She giggled deviously. “Since we share everything with each other.” When he turned back around with a confused expression, she was now looking at him, he though, for the first time since he got up to the room. He also thought that she was being sarcastic.

“So up until yesterday,” She sat up, sitting her glass on the table again, with some force, and clasped her hands in her crossed legs. “I was under the impression that I was invited to a charity ball, not because you yourself had mentioned it to me, but because your mother, the host of said charity ball had asked me a couple of weeks back if I was attending. I recall telling her that you hadn’t told me anything about it but I would definitely be there, and then, you know, we had the usual chit chat. So I mentioned it to you and you said that you forgot to tell me, blah, blah, blah. And then– this is the funny bit, you’ll like this.” She giggled again and readjusted herself. He had an idea where this was going.

“I got a phone call, yesterday, from your mum. Telling me she was sorry that I couldn’t make it but wished me luck on my interview and said that we need to get a catch up soon so I agreed and thanked her for her well wishes for my interview. But…” She squinted her face as though to be racking her brain in deep thought. “… I didn’t have an interview. And if I did, clearly you seemed to have more knowledge about it than me.” She watched as his face contorted into a form of alarm, his mouth slightly agape. For the first time in his life- speechless.

“Oh but it gets even better.” Standing from the seat with a small bounce that made him take a step back in reflex, she walked over to the cabinet again and brought out the already opened bottle of rose that she had opened earlier and then sat back down, purposely pushing out her cleavage by folding her arm under her breasts as she poured the wine into her glass. “So after that –shall I say –odd phone call, I get another one… from you.” Gesturing the glass to him before raising it to her lips and sipping. “Informing me that there was some sort of mix up with the table setting and that you had specifically said that I was to be at this ball and sat at your assigned table, but something had happened and that information didn’t seem to register in some ‘idiot’s’ head, therefore, no more invite for me.” She cocked her head to the side in hopes to look innocent and confused, but he was on to her and knew where she was going with this. “S’bit weird, innit?”

Helloooooo. Started something new again, got a lot written for this so far, so here’s a little taste, see if anyone likes it or not. Enjoy!