Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2005 20:06:32 +0100 From: tsunami@london.com Subject: Changing Rooms Changing Rooms, by mattbuck All comments are appreciated - email tsunami@london.com Other stories I've written can be found on my website, in the fiction section http://mattbuck.sixwinter.com Usual disclaiming sort of stuff, I don't know McFly, I don't know their sexualities, this story is not in any way based on real life events. Oh, and it contains gay sex, so please make sure you're 18. It's amazing what stuff you find clearing out your room. Stuff that was hidden away and forgotten... not trashed in blind rage. I hadn't forgiven him, and that's why I'm not moving in with him. I should have been, we had it all figured out. The guitars and the others he called it. Riding on our success we'd joked, but no. It wouldn't be the same with anybody else. They earned it, and we couldn't have made it without them. Couldn't have made it without him either. Why, why did he do it? Why did he cheat on me? I know why he said - he was drunk, somehow they ended up in the toilets and then his jeans were around his ankles... A kiss me quick hat from that time we were in Blackpool. We'd smiled and laughed when he bought it, then he put it on my head and planted a kiss straight on my lips. Never done that before. That was probably when I first noticed. Not that there hadn't been signs before. His tendency to snuggle against me watching TV, lingering touches when passing things, that photo of us hugging at some awards ceremony he had framed and hung in the stairs. That was the first thing I smashed. I was sitting in the lounge with the others when he came in. He stood in the centre of the room, took a deep breath and told me. He got down on his knees, begging me to forgive him. And I couldn't. I couldn't even keep my temper. All I could see was him in the arms of some... I just went to my room, smashing everything that reminded me we'd been together. I don't even know what I smashed now. I think a guitar went in there somewhere, some more photos maybe... A lone piece of paper fallen down the back of the chest of drawers - a poem he wrote for me. I remember it was so beautiful, and I didn't think I could ever write something so good. He smiled, and said that with me for inspiration, nothing could be ugly. A mouldy plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs. Nasty. It's hard to believe it was almost three months ago we split up. Well, we never quite said it, in fact, we barely spoke at all. Every so often, he'd ask me to forgive him. Beg me. Plead. I always said no. At first, it was anger that he cheated on me, now... I think maybe it was just me being pig-headed. I miss him. I miss the romantic things he did for me, even totally stupid things like putting down a designed jacket in a puddle so I didn't get my feet wet when I could just jump over it. I miss him smiling at me over dinner. I'm a bastard. He even got a reprint of that awards photo and used it to try and get me back. It's sitting by his bed now. He cooked a special dinner which I refused to eat. He bought flowers that I chucked out the window. He sat under the window all day begging me, then all night crying. I just turned up my stereo. But he still never gave up. A paper aeroplane floats in through the doorway. It's made up out of another print of that photo. He put a lot of effort into this - it even has a little tailfin with "McFly" written on it. I smile slightly. Terrible joke, but one I made when we took our first plane trip together. He would remember that. I unfold the plane - it even has a hint of that aftershave of his I loved so much. The one that somehow made me sleep better and feel safe. A letter... no. Not a letter. A declaration. One I've read a hundred times before. The one thing of his I kept. My sock drawer, at the back, the folded piece of paper safe inside the metal box. For the first time in three months, I take it out, laying it side-by-side with the plane. Apart from a few smudges of ink and crossings out, they're almost identical. I love you. You are the one who makes life worthwhile, without you I am nothing. It doesn't matter what I have to do to get you, I will do it without question, without hesitation. I will always love you, no matter what. If we are parted I will never stop loving you, and I will always try and find a way to bring us back together, no matter how long it takes. I solemnly promise this, we will be together. I look back at the new one. There's one change - an addition. The word again. I'm... I'm... tears come to my eyes. Why was I so stupid? He loves me so much, and I... do all this, just because he got drunk and did something he regretted afterwards? He begged me for forgiveness... that's not right. I should ask him for forgiveness, for being... for hating... I'm going downstairs. I'm going to tell him I'm sorry, and that I love him. And that... that we'll be living together. Amazing what you find, clearing out your room.