This would be a love song, if the sky wasn't on fire.

That essay was rediculously bad.
I'm starting the next one NOW. not the morning it's due. NOW.

Falling for The Low Anthem. And The Tallest Man on Earth.

Will's girlfriend's told him they're on a break. He comes into my room (without knocking, as usual, if he'd been a few seconds earlier he could have seen my sexyful victoria's secret underwear which I'm only wearing because I've run out of the boring stuff. This makes me sad. I don't like wearing it if no one's going to see it. Ho. Ho. Ho.) and says 'She pecked me on the cheek, hugged me as a friend, and got on the bus. She's gone.'
-She told me she was going to do this. Why did I not yell at her and scream protestations. Look at him. Is this my fault? How could this be my fault?
'Are you okay?'
'No I'm fucking not okay.'
-He's not okay, stupid question. Stop talking. Maybe he needs to rant.
He rants.
He apologises for ranting. I wish he wouldn't aplogise. I like being here for him. I suddenly think of Alice and Paddy.


Gemma sits between the stone walls outside the club, her shadow-slick eyelids lowered to gaze into her phone. There's nothing on it, but you look rediculous if you sit alone outside a club and aren't smoking or looking at your phone, and she's run out of fags. Her legs are stretched before her and her mind is elsewhere, examining the reflected stars in her phone screen, wondering where her friends have gone, what she's going to do now. She doesn't know the answers any more.

She stands up unsteadily, wanders towards the door to the club. A guy with short, blonde hair and stubble stretches a hand towards her. She stares at it. Someone did that earlier, put out their hand towards her. She hesitantly takes it, wondering if this is shaking hands or what. Within seconds he's kissing her. She's shuddering inside but she was alone before and she's not now so she lets him.