#anyway i’m sleeeeeeepy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mintyvan · 7 years ago

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31 - love will tear us apart

request Bondy asks the reader to visit him on tour.

note I am sorry it took me forever to post this but I hope you enjoy it!

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“Can’t believe you paid for in-flight wifi to send me that meme.”

“I know,” you said, laughing, as you embraced him, hoping your plane hair and wrinkled clothes weren’t phasing him too much. You were itching to get to your hotel room. The leggings and t-shirt you’d worn on the plane were sticking to you, and you were desperate for a shower. He could tell you weren’t keen on being touched after being cramped in the cabin for a few dreary hours.

“Your haircut looks amazing.” You pulled back from the hug a little and surveyed how he’d changed. He was tired, but his eyes were still bright and warm. He hadn’t shaved in a while and his beard was starting to get unruly. You smiled as his cheeks went a slight shade of pink.

“Thanks,” he replied bashfully. He wasn’t used to outward praise.

“It’s been too long, John,” you told him, leaving his arms. He smiled back at you, eyes crinkling while replying, “It really has.”

The taxi ride to the hotel he’d arranged a room for you in was a blissful game of catch-up. How you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, how he’s been, what he’s been doing. It was nice to just talk in person. The calls and texts between you and your childhood best friend had been less frequent lately, and you had both regretted it.

“Pick anywhere in the world and we’ll make it work,” he had said to you over the phone one night. And so, a trip to Japan to see Bondy perform at the Fuji Rock Festival was born.

“Is this where I’m staying?” you asked, plopping your luggage down in the little foyer of the hotel room. It was modern, but with obvious Japanese influences, because, well, you were in Japan. The far wall was paned in glass leading out to a balcony with wicker chairs. Traditional paper room separators divided the room into habitual spaces for cooking, sleeping, and lounging. “I love it. So quaint. You can definitely tell we’re not in Newcastle anymore. There are two beds in here! Wait…. and….. your stuff too?” Your eyebrows raised at him.

“I couldn’t tell management you were coming, they said earlier that they wouldn’t pay for any rooms other than the regular band and crew’s. So I asked for a room with two beds because now, I’m a daft cunt who sleeps in one bed the first night and another the next.” He winked.

“Gotcha,” you laughed, putting your duffel on the bed. You sorted through your clothes and readied an outfit for the day. “Where we goin’?”

“Firstly, I was thinking lunch out in Tokyo. You’re probably starving from the plane ride. We can even hit the shops if you like.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I’m also dying to get my hands on some Japanese makeup.” You took out your makeup bag and rifled through the cosmetics you brought. A bright red lipstick would go perfectly with the long black and white striped dress you’d brought. You stepped up to the mirror and let your lips fall into an O-shape to apply it.

“Well isn’t that a shade of ‘I’m getting fucked tonight’ red.”

“Bondy!” you slapped his arm hard. In a mock-country accent, you rebutted: “That’s no way to talk to a lady like me! All my suitors are going to hear you and take back their marriage proposals.”

“As if they’re all standing right outside the door,” he scoffed with a laugh, and fixed his hair under his hat in the mirror.

A knock sounded at the door shortly after.

“No fucking way!” you yelled, both of you looking into each other’s bewildered eyes. He pointed and laughed at you with your lipstick still only half on, and then giggled and practically ran to the door.

“Hello boys,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at them as they filed into the room. You quickly rubbed your lips together so you wouldn’t look like a Hex girl with one lip not matching the other.

“Ahh! Hi! Hello!” You greeted each member of the band, and Larry, with a big hug in succession.

“She’s gotten cuter since the last time we seen her,” Van joked.

Bondy rolled his eyes with a smile before continuing the conversation he’d started with you before they arrived. “I know a really good record store not far from here. The festival doesn’t start until tomorrow so we have a whole night to ourselves.”

“Alright, hope you guys have fun today. Let’s go boys,” Bob ushered everyone out of your room as quickly as they’d come.

“Sweet.” You walked around through the rest of the room, surveying everything one more time before leaving to make sure you had what you needed, and then walked into the bathroom. “No fuckin’ way! What’s this toilet do?” you called to Bondy, who was still in the great room. You noticed the white bowl had knobs on the sides and pressure sensors on the seats. You fiddled with one knob, and it sent a stream of water onto your dress as you squealed, half surprised, half in delight.

He laughed from in the other room, and muttered, “I fuckin’ love Japan.”

****

Lunch was hot, filling and delicious, so you were both ready to head out to the shops with full bellies and hearts from catching up. Bondy walked with a little spring in his step, and you were happy to see he’d found his bliss in this country. The first time he’d traveled to Japan when he was a member of Detroit Social Club, he’d called you from his hotel room the first night --- “I promise I’ll pay for this phone call on both our ends, I know it’s going to be expensive but I don’t fuckin’ care” --- and spoke to you for two hours afterward, racking up more than three hundred pounds in the time it took him to tell you how mesmerized he was by the country. The neon lights in a language he didn’t know how to read, the people bustling by with a million stories, the wine culture, the food…. He was utterly fascinated.

Still, today, he was enthralled.

“I want to take you to this music shop near Shinjuku Station, it’s incredible. They’ve got all those obscure records we used to have to kill for back home. They’re just sitting on shelves here out in the open. Lezzgo!” he grabbed your hand and held it steady as he pulled you along. You wanted to tell him that in Japanese culture holding hands in public was a really really big deal, but also, it didn’t matter because he wouldn’t care about that significance or do anything contrary to what he wanted to do anyways.

The sky was overcast and looked as if it were going to pour soon. You both hurriedly made your ways down side streets, Bondy navigating with a mental map. The buzz of excitement flowed through your veins.

You entered the dimly lit shop just behind him; he had to duck under the low doorway.

“Watch your head,” he called behind him. He never let his hand fall away from yours. You stepped up carefully.

The shop was full of records, from top to bottom. Vinyl covers and CD jewel cases were pasted to the ceiling, and were up and down the walls as well. A sign hung in the corner by the register, and in big black letters and characters it said “EVERYTHING FOR SALE.”

“Have a look at this,” Bondy said into a pile of records after nodding once to the man behind the counter. The man stepped aside to look through a bin, and set a vinyl to play on one of the shop’s players.

“Oasis,” you laughed in amusement as Wonderwall played over the speakers.

“They always do that,” Bondy smiled, showing all his teeth. “Told ya.”

You with your big bag of records in hand, all paid for and basically hand-picked by Johnny Bond himself --- “I’m not going to invite you on a trip across the world and expect you to pay for your own souvenirs,” he’d said with a blush on his face as he paid --- padded out to the darkening street. Bondy guided you back to the subway, but this time he walked more relaxed now that he didn’t have anywhere to be. His hat received funny looks from passersby.

Once again at the station, you both hopped on a train headed back to the hotel. The festival was tomorrow and you knew he needed a good night’s sleep to perform well, so you both silently opted for a night in.

“It’s almost dinner time, John,” you told him, laying your head on his shoulder. The air was stale in that compact space, and you were exhausted. “I’ve no idea how we can spend so much time in there together and not get tired of each other or the scenery.”

He chuckled, and it was a small chuckle meant only for you to hear. He’d always had a special laugh reserved just for you, and it made you feel a little special stuffed among the people in the train car alongside you. His scarf looked warm and soft, and you let your nose rub it a little before you realized people were staring at how close you were to him. Definitely a different culture here.

“Sleeeeeeepy,” you whispered in his ear, and let your eyes close, head resting on his lapel. The jet lag was taking a toll, finally. The imminent excitement of seeing your best friend after months of being apart had finally worn off, and you were content on the train. Sandwiched between someone you’d never met and someone you’d known since you could remember.

The walk back to the hotel was a bleary one; not only was it misting coldly, but you were half asleep. You weren’t happy about having to move off of him to exit the train, and he smiled at how groggy you were. You didn’t tell him, but the cat nap you’d taken on his shoulder was one of the best bouts of sleep you’d had in months.

“Can we get a coffee or somethin’?” you asked him in a small voice. His arm was around you, trying to keep you warm as he guided you back to the hotel. His navigation skills despite a lack of GPS were incredible.

“How about some tea?”

“Yes. Please. God. I need something warm.”

After stopping at a tea shop, and with a hot brew in hand, your morale had improved greatly. The sleepiness was gone, for now.

“Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?” he asked you, hands wrapped around his mug of tea. He looked like a little boy again, shivering every so often every time the door to the cafe opened.

“I figured you’d want to eat room service at the hotel since you’ve got an early riser tomorrow morning.”

“That would be ideal, but you’re here on holiday.”

“So? Doesn’t mean we have to be fancy or anythin’. It’s just you and me.”

“I guess.” He breathed in the steam from his tea, and took a long sip. “Want to go out after the festival?”

“Don’t you want to drink and party?” you questioned. He sat there with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Maybe we can go somewhere the day after. Can you stay an extra night?”

“Uh… yeah, I think I could work it out… well, except my plane ticket, but I guess I could get a new one?” You asked him, and he still looked at you with hopeful eyes. “Why’re you so keen on this, John?”

Just then, his phone rang. Van’s name popped up on the screen. Bondy took the opportunity to dodge your question.

“Hello?”

“Oi mate, we’re gonna do a big feast in the hotel with a roast, maybe. Or some pies. Or even some fancy ice cream. Wanna join? Where are you?” his voice crackled through the receiver to your ears. Van always spoke loudly on the phone. You could hear every word.

“I’m out with Y/N, close to the hotel now.”

“How’s ya sweetheart?” Bondy cleared his throat as Van asked the question. You smiled. Van was always a dear.

“She’s well. A little cold, but we’re working on it.”

“Good. Come on then! We’re orderin’ soon.” He hung up. You laughed.

“Well? The boy said come, so let’s go,” you exclaimed, standing up with renewed energy.

****

Mouths stuffed full of garlic bread, Larry and Bondy attempted to recite their ABCs backwards. Bread crumbs were falling all over the table as they tried not to laugh.

“That’s absolutely disgusting,” Bob declared, taking a big gulp of water.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything,” you quipped. “You’d be surprised at the stuff this one has been able to pull off over the years. When he was a wee lad ---”

“I know what story you’re gonna tell. You better not go there,” Bondy interrupted, mouth clear of bread now.

“And what would you do if I did?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

Benji’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. “What could he possibly have done that warrants this much attention?”

“Well, ---” you began, but you only got as far as the L’s before Bondy pounced and leapt into your lap. He started tickling you, and you squealed as his hands were digging into your sides and arms and legs. You couldn’t control the laughter, and you cackled loudly as everyone watched, laughing too. Your arms and legs flailed in your chair, but his weight kept you from moving out from under him.

“Stop!” you breathily screamed between inhalations, “Stop! I… Oh my god I can’t breathe,” you laughed into his face. He finally stopped, and rested on your lap. His weight was heavy, and the backs of your legs pressed hard into the wood of the chair you were sitting in. His face was mere inches from yours.

“You done now?” you asked him, moving the hair out of your face that had fallen in the attack.

“Only if you swear not to say anything.”

“You got it, boss.”

He made his way back to his chair as if nothing had happened, and Bob snorted. The conversation resumed normally.

Benji pulled a bottle of Tito’s out of his luggage, and everyone guffawed with wide eyes at how he’d managed to smuggle an entire handle across the Japanese border. Bob rolled his eyes. “We’ve got a show tomorrow, Benj.”

Within an hour, everyone was smashed.

“Royal flush!” Larry cried. “First one in my life!!” He raised the playing cards above his head and let them fall across him in a shower as he collected the petty cash on the table. Bondy mumbled something about a wanker from his spot where he’d spaced out on Van’s bed, and Larry shot him drunk dagger eyes.

“I can’t believe I just lost to Larry with this hand,” Bob giggled. Benji looked over at his cards and sniggered.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ good hand as well,” you laughed.

“And Y/N!” Van yelled half-unintelligibly, flinging his hands in the air, letting all the cards fall to the ground while almost knocking over a shot glass.

“Y/N….” Bondy’s drunken slur rang out from the bed. “She’s an angel…... and I want her to drown in my cum.”

The boys all stared, stunned, looking back and forth from Bondy to you, no one saying a word. Eyes rimmed red were bright with surprise, Larry’s cheeks were puffing out red from holding in laughter.

“My god,” Bob whispered, breaking the silence. Van giggled.

“Oh, I’m desensitized to his drunken comments by now. Known the lad for forever it seems like,” you said, laughing off the uncomfortable feeling their glances were giving you.

Larry decided it was time for everyone to sober up after that raucous comment. After chugging a few glasses of water each and taking an aspirin, all of you felt you’d be sort of fine in the morning.

Slowly, after everyone finished their food and trickled out of the rooms, it was you and Bondy’s bedtime and you walked down the hall back to your own room, only slightly tipsy now. The hardwood floors creaked in the silence that descended upon the both of you.

When you reached the door, he stopped and turned to you before inserting the key.

“Today was good,” he pointed out. He seemed completely sobered up by now.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “I’m exhausted. I’m glad we did this though. The lads are still a right laugh.”

“Me too.”

He took a step forward and leaned in delicately, kissing your lips gently. It was soft, and only for a moment. He smiled, and opened the door, walking inside the room you shared. You stood there rooted to the spot, dumbfounded.

Then, Van came around the corner with an empty ice bucket.

“What you doin’ standin’ out here pale as a ghost?”

You pulled him aside and ducked your head to speak quietly to him. “Dude, what’s gotten into John? He just kissed me on the lips. Like a fuckin’ weirdo. All gentle and shit.”

Van turned to look at you squarely. “Whad’you mean?”

“He… kissed me. At the door. Before we walked in the room.”

“And you’re mad about that?”

“Uh....No…. just… confused?” Van’s eyes widened at your comment. He knew something you didn’t.

“Y/N… why’d you come out here?”

“To catch up! He’s my best friend and I missed him!” you whisper yelled in the hall. Frustration was seeping into your pores due to your confusion. Van noticed your distress and placed a hand on your shoulder. He sighed heavily.

“Y/N, I don’t know if I should be the one tellin’ you this, but… Bond’s dead in love with you.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“He won’t ever stop talkin’ about you after you call. He thinks of buying things for you when we shop around. Always asks us, ‘will she like this,’ an’ that. Wants to get a house somewhere.”

“Stop.” Your voice broke.

“I thought you felt the same way, we all did. When you came all the way out here, we thought, it’s settled then. Let’s pick the baby names.”

“Van, shut the fuck up,” you cried, tears threatening to roll down your face. There was too much to process. It filled your lungs with horror. A whole lifetime of loving him as a friend and it wasn’t reciprocated in the way you thought it was. The double beds, the record store gifts, the hand holding, the late night phone calls --- all of it, so he could woo you. Not because he genuinely cared. Your friendship, ruined. You turned away from Van, walking back to your room you unfortunately shared with Bondy the whole time you were here.

“Where you going?!” he shouted after you.

“To bed,” you said dejectedly, leaving Van and his empty ice bucket to their own devices in the hall.

As if he’d already known your reaction, Bondy had set up the paper separators between your beds so you didn’t have to see him. You toed into the bathroom and started the shower.

Under the hot stream, you cried hard for everything you thought you’d known. How much of his friendship was real? Or just trying to get in your pants? How long had he felt this way? Why hadn’t he said anything? Were the brash comments really jokes, as you’d interpreted them?

The questions pelted your mind as frequently as the water drops landed on your back, easing your sore muscles but not your mind. You shut the water off, having accomplished next to nothing other than magnifying the pain you felt at having a facade for a friendship, and pulled your pajamas on. Disheartened, you padded over to the bed and fell into its soft sheets, willing yourself not to think about the sound of his soft breathing just a few feet away.

****

The room was empty when you stirred half past noon. You checked your phone. Only one text from Larry. “If you decide to come, we’ve got a train ticket and a festival bracelet for you. Xxx.” Van had relayed the news, then.

The heartache of last night steadily grew back into your heart as you brushed your hair. You were upset not only for yourself, but for him. You knew him inside and out, and he the same to you. You knew he’d be devastated. He’d probably never forgive you for standing outside the door, dumbstruck, and then going straight to bed instead of telling him how you felt straight away. But what were you supposed to do?

When you scrolled through Tumblr that night, after spending the whole day lamenting your loss by watching high school coming-of-age movies and ordering expensive ice cream pints, you pulled up the #catfishandthebottlemen tag.

A myriad of photos and messages regarding the festival show they’d played popped up. “Is he okay? He looks ill?” was one person’s response to a photo of Bondy looking sickly playing the guitar. Loads of people were concerned about him, and rightfully so; he looked awful. His hair wasn’t fixed, he had a five-o-clock shadow, his eyes were droopier than usual and he looked as if he were in pain. His facial expressions betrayed his usual debonair act. You found fan videos of a few of the songs. During Fallout, he looked as if he were crying.

You curled up on the bed, wrapped yourself in the soft duvet, and did the same.

****

By nightfall, you’d moved the paper separators to behind the bed, and cleared the room. You sat on his bed, waiting.

The jingle of keys in the lock made your heart seize up.

He opened the door slowly, and threw his keys into the bowl in the foyer. He removed his coat, and hung it on a hook.

“John,” you whispered. He turned to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and he looked worse than the photos you’d seen this evening. Bedraggled, he walked over to you and took your outstretched hand. He sat down next to you, and the bed dipped with his weight. He sat facing the dinner table and the wall, where he could only see you in periphery.

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t muster more than a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Y/N….” he began, shaking his head a little. “I’ve loved you since we were in school.” The blow hit hard, but it was expected. You’d spent all day remembering little things he’d done for you, like bringing you flowers he’d picked from the side of the country road up to his house or dancing with you in your kitchen. He was the only boy your parents ever let in the house.

“I just thought after all this time, if you wanted me, you’d come, and that would be it.”

“I thought it was just a friends’ trip…”

“I know. Van filled me in earlier.”

Silence. You could almost hear your heartbeat drumming in your chest.

“I thought I was clear,” he started again. He still stared straight ahead, studying the legs of the table.

“I didn’t realize….”

“Do you love me?” he interrupted, turning to face you now.

“I… John, I’ve always loved you, like as a ---”

“Do you love me like I love you?” he interrupted again.

“I…”

“I’m begging you, Y/N.”

“John, I just…”

“Please.”

You thought it over. You’d been friends since the nursery. You went through school together, always at each other’s sides. There was never a moment where you’d ever doubted his trust in you, his companionship, his friendship. When you crashed your bike, he was there picking gravel out of your knee. When you had your first boyfriend, Bondy threatened to beat his ass if you ever got hurt. When you got your first car, he was the one you drove to so you could pick him up and show it off. When you lost your dad, he let you cry on his shoulder, and he shared your grief. When you rented your first apartment, he called all his friends and worked them to death moving your furniture so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The undying love was underfoot, drawing you two together, always.

“Y/N, do you love me like i love you?” he repeated, breaking the silence one last time.

“I can try.”

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