A/N: I just wanted to say something. This fic is totally stolen. But from myself, I mean. I kind of wrote this a couple a year ago as another fanfiction for another tv-series. I've altered some things but not much. I wanted to try it with Naomily, thought it might be good. You be the judge now, yeah? Please review if you like it! Or hate it.
Memories are funny in some ways. They linger on to something, somewhere, always in the back of your mind, choosing to appear when you need it the least. When you need it the most though, they're just gone for some reason. Pretty weird, huh? I've always thought so.
It had been awhile since I last thought about her. You know, really thought about her. Everytime I do the feeling is so overwhelming I end up in some kind of dream world, on the edge of insanity, feeling every touch, smell and outlines of her body. Reminiscing. How could I not. She was the apple of my eye. My shining star. Every cheesy crap you can relate too, she was it. Ever since I left Bristol I promised myself to never look back. Never share a glance, a look, a stare with someone in a loving way. Closing my walls in for the sake of being safe. Or maybe even for the sake of just being. I turned to my past, before her, and started living as carelessly as I did before brown eyes came across my path. Sleeping around with girls without kissing, drinking way too much and partying all too many nights in a row. I promised myself to never settle for anything or anyone again. That wasn't me. It never had been either. I just made a mistake.
Once.
I wasn't going to get much sleep this night, I already knew it so I got out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt and put on a pair of shorts before making my way out of the room.
I had a great apartment. It was a one bedroom apartment on the top floor of a building in the heart of London. Leather couches, a big screen TV, a huge sound system with an equally large CD-collection, the biggest library you could it in a room and a deep red backdrop in the living room – it literally screamed my name all over the place. Seeing that I inherited an enormous sum of money (that would at least last for a lifetime if not more) when my fllthy rich grandmother passed away I took the opportunity to buy this charming apartment and spent an equal amount on the interior of it.
I came here for university. Sure, I could live the rest of my life in luxury without actually having to move a single finger but becoming my botox loving mother wasn't really what I strived for in life. One of us was enough for this world. So I pursued my interest in music and found a great school here in London that gave the students an opportunity to experience the good side of life. We got to record, produce and party with the hottest names in the business. I loved it. I loved everything about my life. Almost. I was lonely, but I tried not to think about it most of the times. Instead I turned to my random fucks every now and then. And by that I mean every other night. But I liked it. I liked living that way. Winning them over with my unavoidable charm, teasing them, tempting them. Call me self-righteous but it was way too easy to resist. They loved me and I loved the fact that they did.
But I had my rules and everyone who knew me knew them. And if they didn't they just had to learn. First of all, no kissing on the mouth. Whatsoever. I remember one girl trying to cross that line. We were on our way back to my place, doing everything but making out in the elevator while heading up when she chose to push her luck a little bit too far, leaning in, brushing her lips against mine. I remember feeling her hot breath panting against my mouth, her tongue begging for entrance. And I, of course, being true to my words, snapped. I backed away and stared at her with frowning brows as I started to yell at her. I couldn't help it. Accusing her for being stupid. Telling her how she was crazy thinking she could just waltz into my life and become a part of it. Before stepping out of the elevator I turned around to face her one last time and spat in her face. She looked at me with fear in her eyes as if she had just seen a ghost. I remember letting out a small scornful smile before ditching her. Never saw her again after that. Anyway, rule number two; never EVER assume you can stay the night after spending it with me. It was that easy. No kissing, no sleeping over. Most girls complied with the rules and the ones that didn't learned one way or another.
I entered my living room and switched on the lights. I found my clothes that I wore earlier that night scattered around the floor, just as I left them hours before. My eyes met the clock hanging on the wall, telling me it was long past midnight. While placing a cigarette between my lips I turned on the TV and went for the lighter. After taking a long, fulfilling and poisonous drag I leaned back in my chair and rested my eyes on the screen. Not really being in the mood for zapping through channels I settled for some shitty rerun of ANTM. I really hated Tyra Banks. Especially when she always felt the need to show them how to look, as she always loved putting it, "fierce". I laughed every fucking time.
I flipped my phone open, wondering who might be up at this hour, wanting to speak to someone. While taking another drag I scrolled through my contact list suddenly freezing by the sight of that name.
Emily.
Why was it still there? My heart started immediately to race, my breath getting caught in the back of my throat, face flushing and fingers shaking. Reminding me I'm still alive. Reminding me of warmer days. Lost summers. Gentle kisses. Wandering hands. Memories poured over me like autumn rain.
I thought I erased that name a long time ago. Years ago.
Apparently not. And I couldn't do it this time either.
I never could.