Hey guys, how are you doing? Its been a long time since I wrote for Skins! Just so you know, I absolutely adored writing The Foreground and I miss this ship from time to time.
This idea blossomed out of nowhere, and I thought to share it with you. It follows on from The Foreground.
The Foreground
An afterword
"For fuck sake, Ems, would it kill you to pick up after yourself every once in a while? Its not too much to ask for."
Now, I shouldn't be smiling, I realise, and I'm pretty damn sure Naomi would fucking rage if she could see me, but there's something about watching Naomi bend down to pick up the empty glass and walk into the kitchen that makes me feel at peace.
Its been four months since we moved into this shit, be it affordable 1 bedroom flat in London, and I already feel like we've been living here for years. The routine we have set up is rather domesticated and rather cushy for 21 year olds, but whom am I to talk?
I return my attention back to my work, trying to recall where I was.
"For once I would appreciate it if you would listen to me as I berate you."
"Yes, Naoms."
"I can hear you typing away on your computer."
"It doesn't mean I'm not listening, I can multi-task." The volume of the laugh distracts me from my flow, and I notice Naomi back in the living room, her eyes bright with mirth.
It wasn't always this easy. We had to work hard at this. We had to endure time apart in the beginning, working less than desirable hours with little to no reward. Then we came together, slugging our guts off to sustain a crappy studio until we got better hours, better contracts and better jobs entirely. And now here we are. Still a work in progress— still the same and yet so different in many ways.
"You know, sometimes I miss the red," I watch her lean over, catching on to the way her top rises at the action to bare view the scar on her abdomen before I feel her lips press to my forehead in a brisk yet meaningful kiss, "But you're beautiful just the way you are, lazy bitch and all." I manage to slap her bottom before she dashes away, jaw dropping at the cheek of it.
"Hey!"
"I'm just saying, you're not the only one who lives and works full time, you know."
"I know, I'm sorry." She turns her head momentarily to acknowledge my apology before collapsing on the sofa a few feet away, quick to turn on the TV and put her feet up.
"That's apology number 34."
"You're been counting?" I sigh lightly under my breath, not realising the enormity of this discussion. Maybe I have been slacking lately, its only because of recent work deadlines and my general laziness from time to time creeping up on me. Which is no excuse, considering she made a valid point moments before.
Looking to my iMac, I decide I've done enough work for one day and switch it off.
Some things are just more important than others.
My eyes look to Naomi who is actually immersed in whatever program she is now watching, all curled up and relaxed. I love her terribly in these moments. The real moments where just co-existing takes precedence in ones life. Its at the forefront of everything. Eventually I hone in on the spot where her top now covers, which I had caught a glimpse of before. Its been a while since I thought about what happened in college, the journey of how we came to be as a couple; the whole drama of Imogen, it all flutters in my gut and makes my heart skip a beat.
I came so close to losing this.
Living through that, upon reflection, is an enormous ask. Something that not many people go through and will survive. The whole experience was extremely traumatic, and which has since been fortunately laid to bed— a chapter that's met a full stop, and placed nicely in a book that continues to go on at full speed ahead.
Sometimes I hear the wailing from the hospital corridor and it sends me asunder. I can no longer recall the face but the crying invades my innards, causing vibrations and tremors throughout. It ripples through me until I eventually have to collect myself and move on.
Though I'm left to wonder, did she?
"Where are you?" I blink and notice her focus now on me. I must have been in a daze for quite some time because the television is on mute.
"Do you ever think back on it all?"
"Vague much?" I smile at her reply, pushing myself from the chair to move over to where she is. I settle down next to her and rest my elbow down against the cushion, hand on check to support me. I reach out instinctively with my available hand to touch her shirt. I play with the bottom of it until my fingertips disappear underneath, grazing tentatively.
"Reminded me of what happened, and it just got me to thinking." The soft exhale from her lets me know she knows. Her hand then comes to settle over mine briefly before drawing it back out into the open. They remain interlocked, connected.
"Sometimes I catch myself in the mirror or when I'm showering, yeah."
"It was whirlwind."
"Yeah, it was, but I wouldn't change any of it." I look to her then, not quite registering this statement. Naomi dithers for a moment, tilting her head.
"I mean, the stabbing I could have done without, but us? There were times I didn't think we would make it but we made it through and we're better for it now. Its our history. And I meant it, you know: you're my first, my in-between, my forever, no matter what shape or form we may take." Its a sombre feeling, this honesty which is being spoken, and its making me feel choked up. I know I initiated this conversation but I didn't expect to still feel so much from it, the past.
"I don't think I would have made it, you know, if you didn't pull through."
"You would have, and you know what? We don't have to think about that because everything turned out okay. I mean, look at us, Em. You're doing what you love," Her hand strays from mine to gesture to the walls, her eyes sweeping over the many frames that fill up the room before resuming her sight to me, "And I'm doing what I've always wanted to do, saving the world one flyer at a time."
"I'd say you're doing more than that, considering you're looking to stand as an MP."
"Started from bottom and now we're here." I shake my head and lean in close to kiss her, feeling the smile on her lips. She tastes like all the seasons, familiar and constant.
"You know, the best thing I ever did was trusting my gut. To let go; fall and soar."
"You may have thought it poetic but it just sounds like High School Musical to me." The way she leans back into the sofa laughing, lethargic and beautiful, makes this whole conversation worth it. I wait until the hilarity wears off before I continue, enamoured with her very much like the first time I saw her when I was young, it was an awakening of sorts.
An awakening to what is real and true.
To birth a fixed abode together, and belong.
"I'm glad we're here."
"I am, too. I'll never forget what you said about how I go about treating my fears. It really changed how I conduct myself: Don't let your fears of what can happen scare you, embrace how scared you are and overcome those fears."
"I said that?"
"Yeah, when we were on your family's boat." She nestles against me, a gentle smile encompassing her lips at the memory. We've shared a few more since college, though James now mainly uses the boat with dad a lot more.
"You always looked to me as if I was this together person, I just wanted you to see that you were, too. No matter how complicated it all got, you were whole. Strong."
"You were and are a big part of that. I suppose mum was, too. Then there was Cook, Effy, even people like JJ or Katie."
"My sister? She'd love that. And now look where she is, the 'assistant'."
"Everyone has to start somewhere; take that Kardashian woman for instance, she was Paris Hilton's assistant and now look where she is."
"This is true. I just don't see how Katie would have a part in making you strong."
"I do, she was such a hard arse and I was scared of her. She gave me a backbone; granted, under less than ideal circumstances— Christ, do you remember she gave me a right belting? I still remember my whole face aching."
"Yeah, that wasn't so great, I'm sorry, Gonzo." The slow, pointed look she shoots my way almost makes me regret addressing her by this old term of endearment. Almost.
"Lucky your nose never stuck like that, eh." Pinching her nose real quick without consequence doesn't work when she's in close vicinity. I haven't time to move, let alone breathe before she has me on my back, and tickling the living day lights out of my body. And I hate being tickled. Jesus wept.
"Stop, no. Naomi!"
"We've gone years without that bloody name coming up, and now you utter it like you're trialling it out again. I won't stand for it." The motion resumes with rigour once she finishes talking, which has me thrashing about even more, close to tumbling over onto the floor.
"I won't, I won't! Baby—please!"
"Lock the name up in a volt."
"Yes, yes I will! I surrender!"
"Okay." She stops at once, closing the gap between us to capture my lips in a warm embrace. I can't help but lean into it, welcoming the much needed relief, the sweet fusion. My hands find purchase on her back while her body melds into mine. We are always in-tune, working together to create and experience the most heightened impressions. The sensations course through like a current, reverberating between us.
Much like the universe, I have come to accept what we have, what we labour, and what we work toward, will forever be constant. It just is. It works. There is no pause, no disconnection. Its always on on on.
Its always us, no matter what.
And its exactly how I would want it to be.
There you have it! Thank you for reading. Reckon it'll be a one—off. Let me know what you think?