AN- Just an idea that came into my head when I was listening to the Last Shadow Puppets (they're awesome, by the way!) I know its not very long, or particularly brilliant, but oh well! I hope you like it anyway :)
Mitchell snapped the flimsy disc in half as he tossed its shattered remains into the tea-stained bin. How long had he been trying to hide this side of some of his kind? Especially from Annie. She had enough going on in her...well he couldn't really call it a life, could he? Her existence then. She already had enough going on in her existence, more than anyone really should- her own fiancé had killed her for goodness' sake! And yet she pitied him for having such a video sent to him.
He hadn't meant to snap, meant to keep his temper as the words spread across the screen: 'I can see you, Mitchell.' But he was scared and too proud to admit it in front of her.
Maybe..?
He flung the though from his head before he could even consider it. Although it would explain a lot about his recent, more careful behaviour, yet it could never work- they were both dead! No-one could even see her; she was supposed to be dead, but still...
She was bitten on her birthday and now
A face in the crowd she's not.
Annie had lived through so much in her short lifetime; she'd been blessed with practically everything. What could she ever want from him?
A sudden crash came from downstairs, the unmistakeable sound of breaking china. Something had happened.
Again.
And I suspect that now forever the shape
She came to escape is forgot.
He walked hesitantly into the kitchen where he found her, still as a statue, glaring out of the front window, and followed her gaze to the happy couple walking down the street. The tears falling from her eyes told him instantly who it was, and who it was with.
"Oh, Annie," said Mitchell as she sobbed into his cold, hard chest.
He was certain he didn't deserve her, he thought as memories of all the despicable things he had ever done in his long existence ran through his head, but she did need him, told him this fairly regularly.
And that, Mitchell decided, was good enough for now.
About as subtle as an earthquake I know
My mistakes were made for you.