All I Want

Richie's POV

It was getting unbearable; being this close, but not being able to take him in my arms and bring him even closer. He was basically a heartthrob, girls everywhere fawning over him and his stunning looks. I, too, had fallen under his spell the first time I met him in Brit School, and had to work a hell of a lot of stuff out before I came to the terms that I was in love with him. No one should have to go under that amount of mental stress while in school, it's like kicking someone when they're already on the floor.

Anyway, after coming to terms with the fact that a certain boy had turned me gay, it was murder being in a band with him. Every day, especially on tour, he was just there, always there, so freaking close.

So close, but unable to be touched.
That's the curse of unrequited love.

So here I was, sitting on the sofa in the recording studio next to the object of my affections; my mind warring with itself as it tried not to think of how close he was sitting to me, or the fact that his knee was ever so slightly touching mine.

If you haven't guessed yet, and somehow I doubt that you would have, the person causing all of this mental turmoil is the one person no one would have probably expected me to be in love with: The drop-dead gorgeous, the tall, dark, handsome, blissfully ignorant-

Tommy Bastow.

It was stupid and it just shouldn't have happened, but it had; I had fallen for him, and there was no way of getting out.

"Tommy, we need some vocals for Controversy." Our producer, Jason, stated. With a nod, Tommy got up from the sofa and I stared at his bum as he sauntered into the little vocals room. 

While he sang, I tried to focus myself on half-heartedly playing Minecraft to keep my attention from the way my heart felt like it was being stabbed and ripped apart with every word. I do recall someone saying somewhere that love is kind, warm, soft, that sort of thing. In real life, though? It's torture, and it hurts like hell when you know you don't have a single chance of actually being with the person you love.

With every little flick, every little ad-lib his gorgeous voice made, my gut felt like it was being thrown out of a 50 story building. Just falling, and falling, and falling....

Until it hit the ground. Hard.

Gruesome analogies aside, I suppose love could be nice, in a way. Now all I had to do was determine which way that was, exactly. Sighing, I gave up battling through my thoughts and just got up and left the room. There, that's better. Now I could get on with my life without having it circulate around that indescribably handsome man.

I suddenly realised that I now had a dilemma: I was standing awkwardly in the hallway, with nowhere to go other than the studio, which I just left, or the world outside. Shrugging, I decided that I wasn't going to go back and look like a weirdo who just walks out of a room, then comes immediately back in, so I grabbed my coat from the hook and left the house.

The cold January air hit me as soon as I shut the door behind me. It felt as if I was walking into a freezer, and I immediately regretted not grabbing my car keys on the way out. I glanced mournfully at my little blue car with a fully functional heating system and sighed as I impulsively made my way in the direction of the town.

A brief five-minute walk later I was slowly becoming a human icicle, so as soon as my eyes landed on a small coffee shop at the edge of town I had already decided that I was going to go inside. The bell on the other side of the door clanged as I opened it, the noise lost in the general hum of the busy cafe. I spotted a small uninhabited table in the corner of the room and sat down, bringing my hands out of my pockets and rubbing them together in an attempt to warm them up. A waitress came up to me and asked if I was ready to order, and as I was not in the mood to be polite or happy, I kept my head hung low as I gestured vaguely.

"I'll just have a coffee." I muttered.

"What kind? We have cappuccinos, lattes, black coffee-" She started to list them. I felt myself begin to get aggravated, and slammed my hands down on the table.

"JUST bring me a coffee!" I snapped, lowering my voice once I realised what I was doing and sighing when she scurried away. I sunk my face forward into my hands and closed my eyes, staying in that position for a while until I had sorted out my emotions enough to be a regular human being. What was wrong with me? I'd been in love with him for ages! Why was it just all coming out today?!

I leant back in my chair and reached my hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone and unlocking it. The background caused my breath to catch in my throat, as it had every single time I've unlocked my phone. It was a picture that Tommy and I had taken together, just after the October tour with Dave Giles and Room 94 last year. He had his arm around my shoulders and mine was slung casually around his torso, just above his waist, and our heads were resting together. We were smiling goofily at the camera, and I remembered that after we'd taken it, Tommy had laughed and gone, "Dude, that totally has to be your phone background from now on."
Three months later and I still had it on there. Shows that either I really must be in love with him, or that I can't be bothered to change it. Truthfully, it was a bit of both.

Subconsciously, I ran my finger gently over the screen where Tommy was, almost as if I was stroking it. I allowed a small smile onto my face as I studied his features; he really was beautiful.

"Is that your boyfriend?" A voice behind me caused me to jump, my thoughts disappearing as I spun around, fully prepared to snap at whoever said that.

The waitress from earlier was standing there with a smile on her face, holding a cup of coffee that was probably mine. As I was about to shout, I decided that this girl was probably frightened of me enough.

I bit my lip, turning back around and looking at my phone again. I sighed.

"No, he's not my boyfriend." I possibly let too much remorse seep into my tone, and I saw her smirk as she set my drink down on the table.

"You should tell him." She said simply, and for a second I was taken aback again, until I remembered that I was as hard to read as a toddler's picture book. Surprisingly, though, no one'd seemed to clock me on the Tommy situation.... Until now.

"Excuse me, you are...?" I asked, deciding that I should at least know her name before I poured my heart out to her.

"Oh! how rude of me. I'm Caitlin." She smiled cheerfully at me. "And you really should, you know." She repeated. I smiled once at her to be polite, before furrowing my eyebrows.

"It's not that simple. I'm positive that he's straight. And even if he weren't, I'd still have no chance with him." I spilled my heart out to this girl I'd only just met. She pondered this, before nodding understandingly.

"But if you do ask him, providing that he's a good friend, he shouldn't be angry. I think he'll understand." Caitlin replied, sliding down into the seat opposite me. I shrugged my shoulders. Should I tell him? I have been keeping this bottled for far too long... Maybe I should? Oh, but then what if he hates me and never wants to see me again?

"I don't know..." I muttered unsurely. She patted my arm and smiled reassuringly.

"It'll be fine. Besides, If he took a photo with you like that, I'm 95 percent sure that he feels the same way." She grinned, and got up before flouncing off.

"What about that other 5 percent?" I muttered, picking up my coffee and taking a sip.