I Need You So Much Closer

so come on.

The way he looked at me made my heart ache.

It ached in the "looking through you" kind of way.

It ached in the "all I want you to do is to care about me" kind of way.

It ached in the "never gonna happen" kind of way.

I silently sipped my drink, pretending not to look at him and hoping no one would notice my stare. I smiled when he would glance my way and hoped he would make his way over. I glanced down at my outfit, the one I had worn to impress him and felt awkward and like I had wasted hours trying to impress him.

"Ya look nice tonigh'," she said, smiling at me.

She said this to everyone. I didn't feel special.

"Thanks," I said half-heartedly. My eyes found him again and I unconsciously smiled.
She noticed.

"'e looks good tonigh'," she confirmed my silent thoughts. "Tom said 'e came alone."

She smiled and nudged me lightly. She knew. Everyone knew. Except for him. My life was just the same as any other cliché story you had ever heard, only the names and faces differed.

"Yeah," I blushed, looking down at my drink.

Even just talking about him made my insides do all sorts of crazy things. When I felt my face was back to its rightful shade of pale I stood up straight and brushed my bangs out of my eyes. It was then I felt his eyes on me. I glanced over in the direction I knew he was and saw those devastatingly wide eyes sweeping over me.

Every single inch of my body stopped working for a few brief seconds. And then he smiled. And my whole body experienced an overload of epic proportions. I swear, I would have let him take me right there in the middle of the living room.

A small twinge of a smile found my own lips when my brain finally caught up with the rest of my body and he simply just sent a small nod my way and dove back into the conversation he was having. I wanted to die. Instead I walked into the kitchen to refill my drink, suddenly feeling as though being drunk would make this all easier.

I found myself standing there for a while, nursing my drink and trying to keep a conversation with whoever recognized and came up to talk to me. Although I was slightly shy and definitely awkward, a lot of people knew who I was. And I guess that came with the whole, "being friends with the band" thing. With their success came a sudden influx of friends on their end and thusly a few for me as well. Suddenly people wanted to know who I was; mostly just to get to them, but hey, whatever.

It was nearing 1am when I finally decided to head home. I was slightly buzzed but nowhere near drunk. Too much talking, not enough drinking. Now all I wanted was to curl up in my bed and overanalyze everything that had happened that night. Especially that smile. And even though I was beyond tired, I knew I was going to lay in bed for hours just thinking about him and everything that could have happened if I just had the slightest bit of courage.

I tossed my cup into the trash, pushed my way into the bedroom where I had thrown my coat, walked outside into the cold air and wanted to just curse at the world for not going the way I had planned. I guess I should have been used to it by now but it still hurt just as bad every time I missed another opportunity.

It was times like these I wish I smoked.

Slowly I started the long walk back to my flat. It was colder than I had expected but I welcomed the frigid air. I had just shoved my hands in my pockets when I saw headlights shine from behind me. I veered off to the side of the road to give the car enough room to get by but instead it rolled to a stop next to me. Panic coursed through me for only seconds before the reasons for my heart pounding became completely different.

"Ya need a lift?"

I didn't respond, instead I just climbed into the car and looked straight ahead, afraid if I looked at him I'd fall head first into those wide eyes. He laughed at my actions but said nothing; just put the car in drive and started to cruise down the street.

"I knew Matt said 'e invited ya," he said. "I was 'appy when I saw ya."

They why didn't you come over and talk to me? I thought.

"By the time everyone finally stopped askin' 'bout tour and bofherin' me I couldn't find ya," he answered my thoughts. "Someone said they saw ya walkin' outside so I kinda followed," he added with a small laugh. "'ope that isn't too creepy for ya."

"Not at all," I smiled, glancing over at him shortly. A short silence fell over the car. It was comfortable but it made my mind wander. I wasn't thinking about presently sitting in the car with him, instead I was sitting there thinking about how things could have been if we were together. Where we would be going, where we were coming from, how we might be holding hands over the center console or how maybe just being near each other would be enough. My mind was swirling and the only way for it to stop was for me to talk to him. And so I did just that.

"So 'ow was tour?" I asked finally. "I know yer probably sick of that question by now but I 'aven't 'eard much about it yet."

"It was good," he smiled widely. "Bunch of good mates, couldn't 'ave been any better," he grinned. "Although, I guess I lost my girl on it but ya know, gotta take the good wiff the bad," he shrugged.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white, his dry skin nearly cracking. He was shrugging, he was smiling, but he was nowhere near okay. And although my first thought was how happy I was he was finally single again, the second one was about how horrible I felt that he was feeling horrible was much worse. All I could think about was holding him and telling him everything was going to be okay.

"Wha' 'appened?" I whispered.

I knew two things as I asked the question: that he was going to answer me and he was probably going to ask for advice. That was just my role. I was someone you could go to to ask about girls. I was the girl you would give you advice. I was never the girl you asked advice about.

"We've jus' realleh grown apart lately, I suppose," he shrugged again, feiging indifference. "Fhings are tough when yer not around, ya know? I dunno, she came out in the beginnin' of tour and fhings were good fer the most part."

"Wha' do ya mean fer the most part?"

"Well, we weren't 'aving sex," he sighed. My breath hitched in my throat. I covered it up with a cough and glanced out the window as he continued to speak. "I dunno, I guess I jus' felt realleh distant from 'er so I brought it up and we jus' ended up fightin' 'bout it a lot. We broke up righ' before she left," he explained.

My heart started to ache again. It was one thing for him to have a girlfriend, but it was another thing to hear him talk about her and realize how much he actually cared for her. How much he loved her but mostly, how much he didn't feel that way towards me. And maybe that was a really selfish thing to think about when he was so clearly upset and looking for me to say the right thing, but all I could think about was me and my misery.

"So what should I do?" He asked, bringing me out of my daze. I glanced over at him and smile weakly. I would treat him right.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I mean, if..." I trailed off, giving myself a few more seconds to really think about what I was going to say. "If ya realleh love 'er then...then ya should call 'er."

"Do ya fhink she'd talk to me?" He pressed on. "I don't wanna make myself look like a twat."

"Ya won't look like a twat fer tryin' to tell 'er ya love 'er," I said softly.

The words stung my own heart. I could barely recognize my own voice, shocked by the words leaving my lips. It was simple advice I would have given to anyone else. There was nothing substantial or groundbreaking about what I had said. But I had said them to the person I was in love with. And he would never know I felt that way because I couldn't fuck that up for him. He was in love with someone else and I had learned to accept it.

But that didn't mean I had accepted the hurt that came along with it.

"What if I get rejected?" Oliver asked them, his voice soft. I stole a quick glance at him only to see him chewing on his bottom lip and glancing right back at me. His saucer eyes were extra wide and filled to the brim with worry. He really cared for Amanda and I knew the thought of being without her was tearing him up inside. But I knew Amanda well and I knew she would go back to Oliver if he asked. I always secretly thought it was because she liked the attention and tiny bit of fame she got out of it, but I would never admit something like that out loud. I didn't want to ruin something Oliver cared about so much.

The flip side to this question almost made me want to laugh. It was the question I had asked myself daily, especially after talking myself up to finally let him know how I really felt. And it always won. I always ended up cowering in fear because I was horrified of being rejected, never willing to put myself out there like that. I mean, how could I tell Oliver not to be afraid of getting rejected when the mere thought of it paralyzed me?

But like most of the advice I gave Oliver- I had learned to lie with a smile.

"She won't do tha'," I shook my head, clearing my throat slightly. "She uh- she loves ya, ya know? And if she does reject ya, yer better off wiffout 'er anyway."

"'s not that easy," Oliver sighed. "I love 'er. We've been togefher fer more than two years, it can't jus' end like this."

I clenched my jaw. He sounded so pitiful- hopeless even. I wondered if that's what I sounded like when I talked about how he would never be mine.

"You don't know anyfhin' about easy! What's not easy is the fact that I love ya more than I could possibly say and ya love someone else. It fuckin' kills me every single day, but more so when ya talk about 'er like this. I would love ya right, Oliver. I wouldn't leave ya over stupid shit like she does! I'd stick wiff ya, I swear I would."

Only I didn't say any of that.

Because I lacked the courage and I was sure he lacked the feelings. And I hadn't yet decided if being rejected or wondering "what if" the rest of my life was worse.

Instead I smiled at him softly and placed my hand on his knee, "Oliver, I know people say shit this all the time, but yer a great guy, ya realleh are. And I fhink that if she doesn't see that, then well," I shrugged, slowly retracting my hand. "Then she doesn't deserve someone like ya. She's not gonna reject ya though, I fhink ya know that too. She loves you jus' as much as you love 'er."

I could have died right there. I didn't know why it was so hard for me to just tell him the truth, tell him that she loved him for all the wrong reasons and she would go back to him for the wrong reasons. Tell him I was the one who really loved him and that I had loved him for as long as I could remember. Instead I was being the friend. I was giving him advice about a girl. A girl he loved. Who wasn't me. And who was never gonna be me.

My stomach ached like I had just lied about something terrible. And I guess I had. I knew deep in my heart Amanda didn't love him as much as he loved her. And here I was telling him she did. I was lying to him just do I didn't have to see him hurt anymore. I swallowed hard, like I was trying to rid myself of the words I wanted to leave my lips.

I glanced back out the window only to see my street come and go. I furrowed my eyebrows, my eyes following my passing street. "Uh, where are you goin'?" I asked, clearly confused.

"I don't wanna go 'ome yet and I need some company," he glanced over at me, a smile playing his lips. And then his hand snuck its way into my own, his fingers fitting in-between mine perfectly. My breath hitched in my throat. My heart started pounding against my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it. My mouth got dry. My vision was hazy. I lazily glanced down at our intertwined hands. A grin found my lips.

I don't know how long we drove for, and honestly I didn't really care to know. Silence enveloped us, the soft sounds of some rapper coming from the speakers. But it was okay. The silence seemed to bother neither of us. And for once, silence didn't make my head swirl with the what-if's. Even with Oliver's hand in mine I didn't find myself wondering what it all meant. I didn't search for the meaning of it all and I certainly didn't find myself daydreaming about us being some sort of couple. No. For now the hand holding, the silence, the driving, it was all okay. It fit.

I only stopped to think when I felt the car suddenly stop. We were at a small park somewhere I didn't recognize. Oliver's hand left mine as he put the car in park and unbuckled his seat belt, turning to face me.

"Yer not gonna kill me, are ya?" I asked.

He laughed, "Nah, I forget me killin' tools back at my flat."

"Too bad for you," I joked.

We were silent again.

I inspected the area we were in. It seemed to be some sort of park but I wasn't exactly sure. I glanced down at my phone to see it was nearly 3am. We had been driving for almost two hours. When my eyes found Oliver again I was only met with his own eyes; he had been staring at me.

I had never wanted to tell him I loved him more than I did in that very moment. It all seemed too perfect to be true. Like some sort of movie. It felt like if I said it now I would have a happy ending, something I was always so sure I would never get. The only light that was around was a dull street lamp. The only sounds were the soft hum of the motor. The only thing stopping me was my own fear. I was so incredibly nervous. I wanted so badly for everything to work out in the way I had always dreamed it. But instead I found myself once again forcing the words into the back of my head. Once again I was talking myself out of it. Pushing my feelings aside. Out of sight, out of mind. Or something like that.

And then he grabbed my hand again.

I looked at him, confused. He just smiled softly, like he was up to something. And then both of his hands cupped my face. They were cold and rough but all I could think about was my own racing heart. His one thumb ran over my bottom lip. I avoided his eyes.

"Hey," he murmured softly.

My nervous eyes slowly found their way to his. But almost as soon as I looked up, his lips were on mine. The lips I had spent nights dreaming about were finally on mine, moving with them in the most perfect way possible. His hands grew warm on my cheeks as I found my own hands pushing their way into the hair I had only imagined tugging on. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure this was all real, to make sure this wasn't just another one of my hopeless dreams.

When he pulled away he smiled, his hands slowly falling from my face.

"You love me," he said with a sort of lazy grin.

The blood in my veins stopped pumping. Everything went cold, dark. I was utterly horrified. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. Was this a trap? A cruel sort of joke? Was there a group of people ready to jump out of the bushes at point at laugh at my pathetic actions?

"Wh-wha'?" I finally sputtered out when my brain finally began to function again.

"You love me," he repeated, still smiling.

"Oliver-" I began.

"I know ya do," he said.

I looked down at my hands in my lap. I went from being on top of the world to wanting to die in literally seconds. I was sure my heart was about to give out with all of these mixed signals. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

"'s the way ya look at me, I fhink. That's 'ow I knew. I'm not sure if 's somefhin' anyone else would notice, but I do."

"I'm so embarrassed," I murmured, placing my face in my hands. I wanted to cry, but I knew that would only make matters worse.

"Why?" He asked softly, grabbing my hands in his own and

"I never wanted to tell ya," I muttered, my face burning red.

"And why not?" He inquired, his hands giving mine a light squeeze.

I bit my tongue. Suddenly all of my reasons felt stupid. I didn't want him to hear. I was embarrassed. No, I was beyond embarrassed.

"Say somefhin'," he prompted me.

"I couldn't fuck yer life up like that," I confessed sheepishly.

"'ow would you fuck it up?"

"Yer in love wiff Amanda, and she's in love wiff you," I said. "If I said anyfhin' it would ruin everyfhin'."

"Can ya jus' say it?"

"Say wha'?"

"Ya know," he smirked wildly.

I bit my lip. I still wasn't sure what his intentions were. I was waiting for him to laugh in my face. But if it was what he wanted, I guess I was willing to do it. I had gone this far, and he already knew. so what was the hurt in saying it? I took a deep breath and looked right into those wide honey orbs of his.

"I love you Oliver," I said as earnestly as I could. I wanted him to believe me. I wanted him to feel it. After all, this had been something I had imagined myself saying to him roughly a million times before- I wanted it to be just as good in real life as it had been in my dreams.
He smiled wide and leaned over to kiss me again.

"I know," he said again, leaning his forehead against mine. "Do ya know how amazing it is to finally 'ear ya say tha'?"

“But….Amanda,” was all I said.

“She neva loved me as much as you. An’ ya still told me ta go after ‘er even though I knew it killed ya. Tha’s real love. Selfless, ya know?”

This wasn't love. This was something infinitely more amazing. He knew how I felt. And he hadn't rejected me. He had embraced me. He smiled. He kissed me. It wasn't cheesy. It wasn't forced. It was just...

There were no words for this.

None that would justify it anyway.
♠ ♠ ♠
I'm not exactly sure where this came from. It's probably one of the sappiest things I've ever written. But I kinda like it.
xoxo