Disclaimer: I don't own McBusted, Dougie Poynter or Harry Judd.
About: When we're upset, and angry, we do things we don't mean to do. We say things we don't mean to say. Things happen that never should've happened.
If I'd have known, do you think I still would've done it? If I'd have thought of the consequences, do you think it still would've happened? Maybe.
But what was I supposed to do? How could I stop us from doing what I'd dreamt about for months on end, fantasised about night after night, a never ending imagination that took over my life?
I can remember it vividly- too vividly. It had been pouring down with rain, storms raging on, like the world was going to explode in a fury of lightning and thunder.
My wife was out of town- you must've known that, thinking back. I'd heard a knock, thinking it was just Tom, or maybe Danny. I didn't expect to see you; it had been so long since we'd shared a proper conversation, thanks to me avoiding you every single day, unable to look you in the eye without my heart pounding against my ribcage, cheeks burning a dark scarlet.
You'd dressed simply- black, skinny jeans. A leather jacket, showing off your slim figure. An indigo top, wet through and through, revealing your abs, thanks to the hideous weather.
You were crying, tears flowing down your face like someone had poured a bucket of water over your thin body. Your eyes were bloodshot, red streaks fighting violently to dominate the abrupt shades of striking sapphire.
Your hair was a mess, some of it covering your face, other bits silhouetted against the midnight sky. Your hands were shaking, your entire physique trembling in the icy night atmosphere. I couldn't describe how vulnerable you looked.
It was all a blur after that. You'd flung yourself at me, pinning me against the wall in a emotion filled frenzy. Before I even had time to shut the door, your lips were on mine, strawberry flavour crashing against my mouth. Salty tears wet my skin, burning their meaning into my mind. I didn't know what was happening, I didn't know, I didn't know anything.
Maybe I should've stopped you, told you it wasn't what you really wanted. That you were only doing this because the one person you truly loved had smashed a hole in your heart. But I was too caught up in the moment to even capture my thoughts, yet alone state them.
I remember spinning you around, closing the door as I did so. I can recall looking you in those hypnotising eyes of yours, hoping for an answer, an explanation. You shook your head- maybe you never had one.
In the back of my mind, there was a niggling thought, struggling to break through the vast sensations of lust in my brain. He was just doing this because he was angry, I had told myself. I didn't know what had caused this frustration and emotional breakdown raging inside of him, but it was obvious he wasn't in his right mind. I was being used, my conscience had yelled at me. He was hurt, and instead of sorting out his feelings, he vented his distress through passionate and fiery actions. But I'd been watching him for weeks now, craving that body to hold in my arms. Who was I to prevent him from giving me what I wanted?
You pulled my body close to yours, already trying to take my shirt off. You hurriedly undid the buttons, placing your lips on each new patch of skin that was displayed to your eyes. The clothing fell to the floor, your hands wrapped round my muscled waist.
Me and Izzy weren't on the best of terms at that time- and besides, I wasn't gay. Even though the feelings I'd been having for you recently weren't normal, even though I couldn't go without saying something stupid when you were near, I wasn't gay. So surely, doing it with another guy didn't mean anything, right?
Before I knew it, we were on my bed upstairs, your toned body above my own. You were undoing the buckle of my jeans, kissing me all the while. I remember how good it felt, the shivers flowing down my spine, the tingles in my stomach, the excitement. You moved yourself further down, trailing your finger along my chest, pecking my collarbone, leaving me in a whirlwind of longing and need.
It had been what we'd wanted for so long. It was what we'd been avoiding, making everything the opposite. Days of constantly not talking to each other, sexual tension creating a wall between us. Only making stupid jokes, being immature, laughing with each other because the camera was on. As soon as that damned machine was out of sight, we'd be in different rooms, knowing one brush of a hand, one soft smile was enough to give all the pretence away.
Sitting with our ladies, trying not to look at each other. Making eye contact on stage, immediately blushing and turning away. I remember lying in bed with Izzy, and thinking of you. Playing drums, I'd be thinking of you. On the tour bus- you know it, you were dominating my messed up mentality.
You were kissing my body now- my stomach, my thighs, my hips. Tears still stained your handsome face, making your kisses moist and foggy. The force of your actions was remarkable- bites as well as kisses, scratches along my legs, bruises on my neck.
The darkness smothered us both, concealing our actions from the world outside. You placed your hands on either side of my head, watching me. I had nodded, the feel of your body warmth on mine pinning knowledge and reason down on the ground.
Your rough fingers toyed with the waistband of my boxers, each time your hand brushed against my cool skin caused my heart to beat that little bit more.
Making up your mind, you slid the boxers off, taking things quickly, anger and betrayal, cause unknown, fuelling your unstoppable actions. I had reached up, fumbling with the belt on your jeans, the hot, musty air making the event adventurous, daring.
The memory of pulling you down onto me is in the back of my mind, too. Our chests touched, your legs straddling my hips. Your beautiful hair tickled my torso, making me smile despite the badness of it all.
You were kissing by my crotch now, and I remember not being able to take much more. The worst thing is, it felt so good, my heart threatening to burst out my chest, the hair on my arms standing up, moans and whimpers escaping my mouth.
I'd whispered at you to do it- the first thing I'd said to you that night. It all just happened from there, onwards through a night filled with cries of pain, ecstasy and downright desire.
I haven't seen you since. You went before I'd opened my eyes, a note of 'Sorry. I don't know what came over me' being the only sign you'd ever visited here. I don't know what we're going to do now.
Is it bad that, although what happened was out of order, a mistake, I enjoyed it? More than that. I found delight in your butterfly kisses, excitement in your misty touches, pleasure as I ran my hands through your stunning hair.
Do we just carry on, acting like it never happened? Do we avoid each other, hoping no one asks too many questions? I realise now, you'd had an argument with your girlfriend that night. It would explain the tears, the anger channelled through your kisses, the force of your loving.
It should never have happened. But it did. It did, and it will always have done. Damn it, why did you have to come to me? Now I'm filled with feelings I've never had, words I could never explain. I guess we'll just have to wait, wait and see what happens.
Situations get fucked up
And turned around sooner or later
I could be another fool
Or an exception to the rule
You tell me
The morning after