This Turbulence is Beautiful.

After a solid week of work, I was thankful for the weekend when it finally came around. Nothing seemed to drag more that a day of doing nothing, and at work it was relentlessly empty for a good seventy percent of the time. It was never a happy medium either; it was always either completely empty or completely packed. According to Max, I also came home reeking of chips every night, which couldn’t have helped my attractiveness rating in the slightest. It was funny because the kitchen didn’t even serve that many chips, really.

When I got back from work on Friday, after a completely dead night apart from Charlie and a few other locals, I told the boys to leave me alone because I was going to have a bloody nice long bath. Josh took me on a detour on the way home so I could pop into the 24 hours Tesco and grab a bottle of bubble bath and some chocolate- he almost tempted me into buying Matey bubble bath, the same stuff Matt and I used to have as kids, in a bottle shaped like a mermaid. However, it was extortionately priced and according to Josh, “it smelt like ass anyway.” He would have been a brilliant salesman.

I truly felt like I had to scrub the smell of food off of me, so I soaked in the tub for a good hour, and felt much better for it. Tying my damp hair into a tight ponytail, I pulled on pyjamas and wondered downstairs to find Chris and his girlfriend, Lucy, sitting on the sofa watching some depressing looking love film. I decided to leave them to it and wondered into the kitchen, where I found Josh sitting at the kitchen table writing in a notepad scruffily. He looked up and his hand fell across the page, trying to make it look casual when it was clearly deliberate.

“Chris got Notebooked,” he laughed, looking back down to his scraps of paper as I made myself a cup of tea.

I turned and leant against the counter whilst the kettle boiled, “He got what?”

“Notebooked. You know- being made to watch the film,” he explained, unhelpfully for someone of my cinematic knowledge.

“Sorry, what film?” I frowned, turning around to pour the water into my tea cup and stirring it slightly.

“God, Rosie, you really are useless when it comes to movies, aren’t you?” he laughed, closing his notepad and plopping the pen down on top of it, pushing his arms up in the air and then resting his hands on the back of his head, stretching. I laughed at the noise he made whilst doing so.

“Well what films would you suggest I watch then?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

He smirked, “You look exactly like Matt when you raise your eyebrow like that, he must have picked it up off of you. I don’t know. Maybe we can have a movie night some time in the week after you work, or at the weekends. I can’t do tomorrow; the boys and I are writing some new material tomorrow.”

I nodded, having realised a little while ago, without formally being told, that the boys were in the midst of writing a new album. But then they wouldn’t exactly tell me- apart from knowing that they went on tours, et cetera, I knew nothing about them; I didn’t know what they sounded like, what the band was called or anything like that. I wasn’t really hot on popular culture- both movies and music would always be my downfall if I were to take part in a pub quiz.

I clasped onto my tea cup, wondering what I was going to do tomorrow with the guys missing in action, but before I could consider it properly, Josh suggested we go and watch a film with Chris and Lucy now that their depressing film was done. The boys chucked on some film that they considered to be a classic, as me and Lucy zoned out and chatted quietly, occasionally being told to shush for the “good bits”. This only made us roll our eyes simultaneously and then laugh a little. Another film later, and Chris and Lucy left to go back to Chris’s apartment, whilst Josh decided to set up camp on the sofa. He claimed it was to let Max, Matt and Dan back in after their night out, but Lucy said it was probably because he didn’t want to leave me in the house on my own. Either way, I was glad I wasn’t completely alone. It was times like that when my completely rational fears of zombies and aliens came out in full throttle. I didn’t tell this to Josh- I didn’t want him to laugh at me.



My weekend seemed to be a bit of a surreal blur, but I was extraordinarily happy with this due to the fact that time spent wasted was not wasted time. After a shopping trip with Lucy on Saturday morning, the boys took me drinking that evening, and Sunday morning was spent recovering so that we could head out again on Sunday evening; despite the fact that I had work the next day. They were lucky in the fact that they didn’t have nine to five jobs, although probably not so lucky in the fact that they suffered ten times the amount of throbbing headaches and stomach cramps due to phenomenal amounts of “chundering”*, as Max had so lovingly dubbed it.

This nickname was enough to provide horrendous images of Josh throwing up all through last night- so much so that he fell asleep on the bathroom floor. Apparently, he hadn’t had much to drink recently and shots apparently didn’t sit well in his stomach. Personally, I was just impressed he made it to the bathroom.

Max walked into the kitchen on Monday morning with a lop-sided and sleepy grin on his face, his hair sticking up and his face adorning his surprising amount of stubble from one night and morning. He poured himself a coffee and sat down next to me at the kitchen table, sitting only in his boxers and socks.

“So Rosie,” He grinned into his coffee, “hopped off the chunder-wagon yet?”

I laughed at him, “I was never on the chunder-wagon, Maxxy. I can hold my booze down. Josh was on the chunder-wagon all bloody night. I hate the fact that my room is next to the bathroom. The bugger made me feel sorry enough for him to go and help him cough up his sick into the toilet bowl.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max smirked, as Josh wondered in to the room in a similar attire to Max, except his hair was much more matted and his face a deeper shade of what can only be described as sea-sick green. He slumped down into the remaining chair at the kitchen table and tried to smile at us, but it was a rather weak attempt.

“You got work today, Rosie?” he mumbled, his throat still tight from his night spent leaning into the toilet. I nodded, smiling at him sympathetically. He nodded back, and then we lulled into a silence, only broken with Max’s laughter at Josh’s hair.

“Mate, your hair looks bloody terrible,” he chirped, a little too loudly for my sensitive hearing on a morning like this.

I scoffed, “Max, you clearly haven’t looked in a mirror; yours is just as bad!” Max proceeded to practically leap out of his seat and use the stainless steal toaster as a mirror to try and tame his hair. As I left for work with a small wave, Max was still smoothing down his hair and Josh was laughing at him, pouring himself a coffee. I could get used to waking up to these antics.



It was about three in the afternoon when we stopped serving lunch in the diner, and it was completely dead by quarter past. Charlie was busy visiting his wife today, and there was nobody else in. I was due to work until six, so John decided he would head out for a while and take a break, meaning I had to cover the graveyard shift on my own. By four o’clock, I had folded enough napkins to last us a year and cleaning the bar surface top about five times, and was left desperately texting Matt to get him to come and buy a drink. He text back fifteen minutes later saying he was busy with Anna and couldn’t head over right now, but ten minutes after that Josh pushed his way through the door to the diner and sat down at the bar, his jacket pulled tightly around his chest to protect him from the bitter cold that was working its way into Surrey at the moment. Weybridge had woken up this morning to frost in its gardens, and even parts of the river were starting to toughen up where stagnant.

“Matt said you were desperate for business, so I’ll have a cappuccino please.”

I smiled whilst preparing the coffee cup and heating up the milk, “Still recovering from your hangover then?” He said nothing, simply smirked and shook his head.

Once the coffee was in front of him and half drained in one swift glug, he breathed a sigh of relief, “That is one good coffee. Cheers, Rosie!” He smiled one of his flashy grins, and I couldn’t help but beam back, even though doing so sort of put unneeded pressure on my head, “I feel like I’ll never drink again. My head is throbbing so badly,” he mumbled, pushing his two forefingers into his temples in an attempt to soften the pain. I knew that because I’d been doing it all morning to try and ease the pressure just above my eyes.

“I like how you didn’t even say you’ll never drink again, just that you feel like you might not,” I laughed, pulling away Josh’s empty coffee cup and refilling it with a filter coffee- something a bit stronger might work a bit better; I had convinced myself of this as I worked my way from a latte to a double-espresso this morning. Nothing seemed to work though. I just wasted a colossal amount of coffee beans and money.

“Well, I probably will drink. I’ll probably drink tonight to ease my headache,” he smiled clumsily, obviously still feeling a little too tired for human interaction. I had to clear that frame of mind when serving people food this morning, which was unfortunate for Josh as it meant I was in a chatty mood; he had a pained look on his face every time the phone rang, so my voice must have been near eliminating his ears.

It was getting slightly dark outside now, a sign that my shift must have been nearing the end. I leaned over the bar to view the clock and saw that I had just half an hour left. I smiled, already making a mental list of the things I could do when I got home, seeing as I had the night off. Just as I was completing my list, the door opened and I put on my automatic smile. Josh looked at me, laughing.

“Hello,” I practically cheered at the two people entering the bar. They smiled at me, and the man gave a small wave. The girl’s smile was a bit bitterer.

“I’ll have a double Plymouth and tonic, please,” she said, looking in her handbag for her purse. The guy sat on the stool next to Josh, whilst I was recalling what a Plymouth really was, trying to get a look at the wall of spirits without her noticing and thinking I was a completely incapable bar-lady.

Josh chimed in, “It’s on the left, Rosie,” he smiled, looking at the people, “she’s been having trouble focusing today. She’s not very well, you see.” I breathed a sigh of relief, thanking Josh and grabbing the bottle of gin.

The man’s laugh echoed a bit around the bar as his voice was a deep one, “Poor girl, having to work when she’s not well. Least your man is here to keep you company.”

Josh and I visibly paled at the same time, looking at each other and then the man.

“Oh she’s n-not my-“ Josh stuttered.

“I’m not his-“ I started at the same time as Josh.

“We’re not together,” we both finished simultaneously. The man smiled my way, and then at the woman who was proceeding to down her double gin and tonic. I obviously looked a bit taken aback, as the man rolled his eyes and nodded his head towards her subtly when I looked back to him.

“I reckon I’ll have a coffee, ‘cause this lad’s smells so inviting,” I smiled to myself at the fact that I made an inviting smelling coffee, too swollen with pride to even consider thinking it was the coffee beans that actually did all the hard work. In reality, all I did was press a couple of buttons.

Either way, I placed the man’s inviting coffee onto the bar, refilled the woman’s Plymouth at her request and put it down in front of her. She downed the drink in an almost professional manor and looked at the man she walked in with, “Did you have to order a coffee? You know I’m in a rush.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, keeping his head faced directly ahead, “Yes, I know, you’ve told me about five times in the last half an hour, despite wanting to come in here and get a drink.”

She merely scoffed, mumbled a ‘whatever’ under her breath before casually dropping the glass onto the counter with a thud and walking out, chucking her handbag over her arm.

“Jesus. She has been annoying me all day, I’m only supposed to be working with the woman on a work deal and instead we’ve been running around whilst she does errands. She didn’t even seem that bothered about the deal,” he ran his hand through his hair, looking and Josh and I, “I’m Hayden, by the way,” he smiled, holding out his hand to Josh.

“Josh,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away from nursing his forehead to shake Hayden’s hand, “and I’m sorry if I’m blunt.”

I laughed, “Josh and I are suffering from killer hangovers. Him especially,” I nodded to Josh as I picked up the woman’s glass and walked out back to put it in the glass cleaning machine.

“So, what’s your name?” Hayden asked me when I returned.

“Oh, I’m Rosie,” I smiled, trying to do my best polite face. I got asked for my name on a regular basis, although usually I didn’t particularly care to give it out. This was an exception, for some reason. Hayden felt like someone I could get along with.

He smiled softly, “nice to meet you, Rosie,” he finished the dregs of his coffee, “I guess I’d better get back to work before Hannah decides to spill about how much of an asshole I am,” he smirked, setting down the cup on the bar, “Thanks again, Rosie. I’ll see you soon,” he swiftly exited the bar, just as my workmate Joe came in to take over my shift. I whipped the apron off from around my waist and went to grab my hoody and bag from the back room, walking out the front to where Josh was already standing, ready to leave. I waved a goodbye to Joe and we left to walk back home.



We walked to Josh’s flat in a comfortable silence, the gaps where there should be conversations filled instead with a soft hum escaping from Josh’s lips- he’d been singing softly to himself all afternoon.

“What is that you’re singing?” I looked up at him, just as we were walking up his street so he could grab some spare clothes.

“I’m not sure. It’s a song I’ve been trying to figure out all morning. I’ve got a few lyrics and parts of a melody. It’s just bugging me,” he said, running his hand through his hair and breathing out a breath of air.

I smiled, “Sing it out loud.”

He looked at me with wide eyes, his smile turning into a frown, “Not a chance,” his cheeks pinked up slightly.

I let out a groan in mock complaint, “I bet you’re real good.” My half compliment didn’t get anywhere in convincing him, he just shook his head defiantly, pushing open the door to his block of flats and pressing the buzzer for the lift. Once we got to his floor he put the key in the lock and pushed open the door, holding it open with his back to let me in through the doorway.

I don’t know what I expected from Josh’s home. He was hardly ever there since he seemed to camp out a lot at the house; I suspect he resided in the spare room before I ‘moved in’. Because he was hardly ever there, I guess I expected it to be pretty crummy- a place to store his stuff and that was cheap to rent, but was always there if he needed a night off from the drunken and pizza filled antics of the shared space that was Max’s house.

The room I actually wandered into was a lot tidier than I ever expected. It was nothing like the bachelor pad I seemed to have in my mind. The kitchen walls were clean and shining, and the surfaces were free from stains and old dinner plates that never got washed up. The living room that the kitchen backed on to had one small sofa and a coffee table, which seemed to house the only unwashed piece of crockery with a tea stained mug sitting on an old magazine.

“I know, it’s a lot cleaner than you were expecting, right?” he smiled. I nodded, smiling back at him.

“It’s nice,” was the only thing I could think of to really say. He smiled back at me, and went into what I assumed was his room. I stood back, but once he opened the door I kind of subconsciously edged forward. Mid-blue walls were decorated with old comic superhero posters, photos of him and his friends when they were younger and scraps of paper containing mixtures of words and drawings. It was as if everything he’d ever thought about and cared about was emptied onto those walls and held in place with drawing pins and blue tack; like a journal but taped up for everyone to see. I don’t know if it made me admire him more of feel wary that I could tell so much about him from looking at his walls.

Josh was crouched, leaning into his wardrobe, when he saw me edging in the direction of his room. He looked up and smiled, looking a bit confused because I was walking so slowly, possibly because I was staring intently at his walls rather than paying him much attention. He stood up, clutching a t-shirt and looking back and forth between me and where my eyes were directed. I looked at him, smiling and he simply looked back.

“People don’t normally come in here and see all my shit,” he reddened, “I know, it’s a mess,” he mumbled under his breath, trying to downplay the importance of the masses of stuff pinned to his walls.

I walked in and automatically closed the door behind me, walking over to wall to pay closer attention to the Spiderman poster pinned up.

“And now you’ve totally seen my shitty comic-book hero side. Is it bad that I love Spiderman?” He smiled, going back to rooting around in the bottom of his wardrobe for whatever he was looking for.

I smiled, still looking at the poster, my mind flickering back to my childhood, “I used to make Matty watch the cartoons with me when I stayed around his for the night.” We used to sit under blankets with bowls of ice-cream prepared by his mother, covered in sauce and Smarties, and switch between watching my superhero cartoons and Matt’s re-runs of cartoons we’d seen a million times but never really got old.

Josh stood up again, a carrier bag from Tesco stuffed with some shoes and clothes. “He told me that,” he laughed, “every time I made him watch the movie with me, he told me you guys used to watch the cartoons every single time you stayed over his, no matter how many times I told him that he'd told me before,” He rustled in some drawers, “You used to stay over there quite a bit, didn’t you?”

I turned to face him quickly, my mind being pulled out of the childhood bliss it was in previously, “What did he tell you?”

Josh looked up from his drawers and diverted his eyes to me in an almost shocked manner, “You what? He didn’t tell me anything, just that you stayed ‘round his a lot. Why, what is there to tell?” He almost smirked, but drew it back when he saw what can only be described as a flash of pure relief flicker across my features, an audible breath leaving my cold lips. “What is there to tell?” he asked again, only this time it was softer as he placed the carrier bag down and walked towards me. He moved closer than I felt comfortable being to him, as he put his cold hands on my shoulders, my hoody shielding me from the bitterness of his fingers.

For a second, I considered spilling my guts. Everything built up- the pressure of Josh’s soft blue eyes staring into mine, the grip of his hands keeping me from shifting away from him, the fact that his arms just being open made me want to fall into them, cling on to his shirt and not let go. The fact that I hadn’t talked about anything in so long, not even recent messes that had been made, was really starting to get to me; I had always been a listener, never a talker. But here was Josh, his arms open, his eyes inviting and his ears ready to listen. I could tell from the look on his face that he too, was a listener.

However, my mouth dried up and I could only make it possible to speak by swallowing any thoughts of alking and smiling.

“There’s nothing to tell, Josh.”

He nodded, letting go of my shoulders and turning to finish packing his things into the carrier bag.

He didn’t believe me, but it was enough for now.