Status: slowly being updated.
My Hero.
My Hero - eight.
"Hello! You've reached Andy and my beautiful- oh, Andy! -cat. Haha! Me and my gorgeous wife Delilah. Sorry we can't take your call right now, but I'm probably admiring her. - You're being daft! - That or she's dragged me shopping. Leave a message for us, mate and I'll ring you back ASAP."
I smiled at my own stupid interjections in the background, and then I started to cry again. His laugh, his voice, his beautiful, slow, low, calming voice...he could put anybody at ease, he always knew the right words. I wept. His voice speaking to me again, I knew I would never delete that message. Attempting to slow my rapid breathing, I shut my eyes and squeezed tightly, but still, all I could see was Andy's face.
I pulled the coat tighter over me, taking steadying deep breaths.
"I love you, Andy, I love you. Why did you have to go? I need you here, I miss you..." I whispered, stroking the coat.
I repeated myself over and over and over again.
"I need you. I love you. I miss you. Andy, please, just come home..."
But this wasn't like when we had a row and he went to a friend's house. This was real; I couldn't pick up the phone and beg him to come back. When we argued, he would always go to Tom's house, a mutual friend, so I knew where he was. He never had to say where he was going; he never even stayed there the night. I couldn't be angry at him for more than a few hours, and then I'd call Tom and ask for Andy.
It became our little running inside joke after a while, and every time I'd call Tom would make a joke about being a call centre or a woman's institute.
We both loved Tom; maybe I did more than Andy, because he was gay, and so camp. We'd get ready before a night out together, I'd take him shopping with me, he even helped pick out bridesmaids outfits for our wedding.
I couldn't call Tom now. He would be hurting, too, though not as badly as I was. I couldn’t just ring up or drive round and it would all be okay. There was no one to call and nowhere to drive to. Nobody had my Andy.
I'd lost him, he was gone.
I smiled at my own stupid interjections in the background, and then I started to cry again. His laugh, his voice, his beautiful, slow, low, calming voice...he could put anybody at ease, he always knew the right words. I wept. His voice speaking to me again, I knew I would never delete that message. Attempting to slow my rapid breathing, I shut my eyes and squeezed tightly, but still, all I could see was Andy's face.
I pulled the coat tighter over me, taking steadying deep breaths.
"I love you, Andy, I love you. Why did you have to go? I need you here, I miss you..." I whispered, stroking the coat.
I repeated myself over and over and over again.
"I need you. I love you. I miss you. Andy, please, just come home..."
But this wasn't like when we had a row and he went to a friend's house. This was real; I couldn't pick up the phone and beg him to come back. When we argued, he would always go to Tom's house, a mutual friend, so I knew where he was. He never had to say where he was going; he never even stayed there the night. I couldn't be angry at him for more than a few hours, and then I'd call Tom and ask for Andy.
It became our little running inside joke after a while, and every time I'd call Tom would make a joke about being a call centre or a woman's institute.
We both loved Tom; maybe I did more than Andy, because he was gay, and so camp. We'd get ready before a night out together, I'd take him shopping with me, he even helped pick out bridesmaids outfits for our wedding.
I couldn't call Tom now. He would be hurting, too, though not as badly as I was. I couldn’t just ring up or drive round and it would all be okay. There was no one to call and nowhere to drive to. Nobody had my Andy.
I'd lost him, he was gone.
♠ ♠ ♠
i need a tom, so lovely.