- Living Dead // Marina & the Diamonds
Hannah Darval; July 28
The first thing I noticed when I was dragged into consciousness, totally against my will, early in the morning was the voice singsonging “Come on, up and at’em sunshine.” My first thought was it was odd for Steane to be up before my in the morning. Then the events of last night at the gala came crashing back on me and I felt I wanted to die. Clearly I didn’t die, I did however attempt to burrow back down into my bed and never come out.
Fate, or Dean, had other plans for me.
“You do not get to sleep in this morning missy,” He said, way to loudly dragging the covers off me “ you revoked that privilege last night.”
I muttered something in return. I’m not entirely sure I remember what it was but it probably involved a cacophony of swear words.
“No.” He said firmly, in that listen-to-me-or-die voice that I’d only heard a couple of times, “This is your fault so you are going to help me fix it this time.”
I flipped him the bird but did sit up, blinking round the room blearily. The one thing I did notice was the gown from last night hanging up - I’m not sure if I’d had the foresight to do that though or if Dean had taken pity on me and hung it up. Right now I didn’t give a fuck. “I hate you.” I told him, futilely trying to rub the sleepiness I felt from my eyes.
“I’m the one trying to save your ass,” He said without sympathy, “Would you rather I’d send Samantha round?” He asked, already well and truly knowing the answer.
“Ok no, I’m sorry.” I said, pulling my knees up to my chest in a defensive mechanism. It was an empty threat but I didn’t want to test him, “Whats the damage?” I asked after a dragging silence. I didn’t want to know but I suppose I would find out eventually.
He eyed me critically for a few more seconds before his eyes softened in sympathy, “Why don’t you get dressed,” He suggested, “Then we can go for a walk.” He didn’t say another word before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.
I flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling feeling sorry for myself. It wasn’t even really my fault this time - not beyond the foolish hope I’d had that Steane was going to change. Whatever. I had to face the music I supposed, and Dean was right he was the best one to talk with. So I better not keep him waiting.
10 minutes later I slowly made my way down the stairs to find Dean leaning against the wall near the front door, two coffees in hand. When he saw me he smiled, for the first time today and held one out to me. What a lifesaver.
“I’m sorry for every swear word I’ve ever thrown at you.” I cried eagerly, grabbing it from him and drinking quickly, “You’re my favourite person ever.”
“So that was all I had to do to earn your favour?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as he opened the door and held it open for me. “That explains so very much.”
I let that comment slide as I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes, thankfully there were no paparazzi lurking around, it was the bloody early. That fact gave me hope that maybe it wasn’t as bad as usual.
“So give me the news.” I managed to refrain from asking till we’d walked to this little park thing near my place - which was a new record of patience for me or something.
“It’s actually not that bad this time.” He told me, clearly trying not to smirk. Dick, he’d led me to believe it was awful on purpose, “I don’t think the media has caught wind yet. Which means you must have been on your best behaviour.” He pulled me into a condescending side hug, “Good job.”
“Shut up,” I wriggled out of his grip, trying not to laugh, “So what exactly are we talking about then?”
“Two things actually.” He sighed, sitting down on a park bench. I eyed it, most of my legs were bare and it was probably filthy, before sighing and lowering myself onto it, better than standing I guessed, “One thing is you’ve got to sort this shit out soon.”
“It’s not your job-“ I started to say indignantly before he put up a hand to silence me.
“It is my job, well it’s Samantha’s job actually but I’m saving you from her wrath,” He said pointedly, so I had to nod my head in concession, “But you two are so affectionate in public that the paparazzi are going to figure something is up soon.” I nodded again, knowing he was right but hating it, “So you either need to fix things with him, again, or break up for good and issue a statement,” he looked skeptical at that but really it was the only option. This relationship was toxic.
“Give me a couple of days.” I said quietly, looking down at my hands, “Then I’ll get in contact with him and try and end things for good.”
“Alright sweetie, take some time.” He said, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “Just don’t take to long.”
“Right,” I nodded decisively, no more moping at least not this morning, “what was the other thing you wanted to talk about.”
“Oh that,” he said, grin spreading across his face, “I didn’t want to ruin the happiness of these moment.” He started sarcastically, causing me to giggle and hit him lightly in the shoulder, “But I talked to Olly Newman and well it sounds promising.” He said, smiling.
“Really?” I squealed, suppressing the urge to jump up and down or clap my hands or something, “You did that for me? Really?”
“Well I am the best, remember.” He laughed as I gave into the urge to wrap my arms around his neck with a squeal, “Just talk to him at his party on Monday, alright?”
“Oh no, a party?” I threw my hand over my head dramatically, “The things you force me to do. The shock, the horror,” Of course by now people were staring but what did I care? What did it matter if I never saw Steane again? I had a great career and I was surrounded with amazing people. What more did I deserve? Really?
[Just FYI I always read everyone stories. and i LOVE writing for Hannah so I'm not going to stop but I was wondering how many people read these? So i can figure out if people are reading them and if i have to keep the a schedule or something. Yeah :P also tags for @vicks and @nifty-nikki because they always want them. Which is nice :D]