MESSY
009, lifeline

@drewstarkey posted!

liked by: madelyncline , Olympiahartley and 3,456,895 others

drewstarkey: ⚓️

LOAD ALL COMMENTS:

username: parents are together again!!!

username1: drew really said PUTTING THE BREAK UP RUMOURS TO BED 🛌!!

rudeth: Charleston lookin a little bit different ?
— olympiahartley: Sherlock...is that you!
— rudeth: oh, I miss that British wit of yours Olympia!!
— olympiahartley: ❤️

username2: is she wearing A RING!!!
— username3: SHUT UP ARE THEY ENGAGED!!

madelyncline: drew I'm coming to steal her!!
— olympiahartley: I'm waiting!!

username4: kind of missing their New York era!!
— username5: that one fan video of him giving a standing ovation to her in the audience of streetcar will always be my Roman Empire!!

CatherineHartleyy: lovely photo drew! ❤️
— drewstarkey: ❤️❤️
— username6: olly's mum commenting on Drew's photo!!

olympiahartley: taking sneaky photos of me now? x
— drewstarkey: was more for the view, you were just kind of there ❤️

WHEN DOES SOMEONE WHO YOU LOVE BECOME A STRANGER, like...when do you feel it? You can drift away, part ways and still love them — I've felt that before with people I've bonded with on sets but am never in the same city or country as them, and the odd occasion that I am I never have the time.

But this is different. Sat on the patio of some restaurant a day since Drew appeared at the door and a day since I last spoke to Callum. But it's felt like years since I spoke to him, not this person he's pretending to be. Or worst of all, the person he always was but he hid from me. Because I don't like this version of him.

He goes from being nice to telling me I'm only his coworker, from having fun at the beach to doing something that brings back the months..almost a year of heartache to sit heavily in my chest. For his actions to make me cry, to keep me up at night until I can't possibly think about it anymore without my mind melting.

He's constant throwing rope as I drown in the ocean that is us — the good, the bad, the memories that haunt me in both the best and worst ways. And just as I stretch my hand, just as my palm brushed against the broken bristles of my lifeline, of our reconciliation . He reels it back in. It's a process I've found boring, it's a process that I'm sick of letting me hurt.

So what if I drown in us? What we were, what we could've been? At least I'd be rid of it all then.

He in question, currently has his arm around Olivia, a sweet girl that I like and have spent the odd off day with. She's beautiful, and so kind. Blonde hair and a complexion that has turned a sweet colour of light caramel from the time she's spent in sun. She's wearing a pair of Levi shorts and a cami top. But in fairness, she could be wearing a potato sack and look phenomenal.

Whenever I'm notably tired on the later shoots she'll say she's popping off and come back with a coffee for me. I'll thank her and it'll keep me going. I can't hate her, I don't want to hate her. I have no reason to even dislike her.

But said woman I don't have any problem with right now can't tell that the way that they look so much like us a few years ago is splintering my heart, which is stabbing at my lungs and making it almost impossible to breathe steadily. Their faces are so close together and he's whispering to her more than he is talking. They're in their own little bubble, and I hate it. I actually fucking hate it.

They spent the day here; and around an hour and a half ago sent a text into our group chat seeing if we wanted to come out for dinner. Almost as if in retaliation for mine and Drew's early morning ventures out — to the same town as yesterday, I pass the woman and her little clothes shop. I don't see the white dress, and I think it's honestly for the best.

And if I hadn't already been there on the groupchat , inspecting all the photos they had posted of them earlier in the day ( all with the same smile Callum has in the ones I took of him yesterday) I would have pretended not to have seen it. Lied when people inquired about it, say my phone was on silent. When in actuality because him looking that happy with someone else my stomach turn.

But I was lying with my head on Drew's bare chest, he had a great direct view straight into my screen as he hummed " dinner? I could go for dinner." and that was my planned foiled.

Oh, and Drew..
there's another thing that's been prying on my mind...how do you know when a relationship is ending? here's no hard feelings or big fights, or any dumpable offences taking place. If anything it's nice, him being here.

But it's not New York. It's not our little apartment that sits a few subway stops from broadway, with a tiny kitchen which often worked in our favour ( cough cough). It's not midnight walks to get dollar slices of pizza which are no longer a dollar. It's not walks over the Brooklyn bridge on my days off from streetcar.

I wish I could get it back. Our little corner of the world that nobody could hurt — and by nobody, I mean the six foot two brunette Englishman who broke the heart Drew is trying his best to fix.

But with each passing comment, each glance at me that's harsh or glance at Olivia that looks like how he used to look at me. Whatever mending Drew has done in the last year undoes itself.

I look at Drew from across the outside dining table, holding his hand but I don't feel present. He's been here for a single night, a mere eight hours we'd take for granted — rustling bedsheets and keeping each other as close as humanly possible would be our sanctuary for said eight hours. Trying to get back what we once were but we're not anymore.

And now? he uses his other hand to show me pictures of his friends and what I've missed whilst he's been in Carolina. An abundance of set pictures with their own little story, most of them silly and unserious.

I smile at the picture im being currently shown of Madelyn holding up a Photo Booth reel of me and Drew that we took on one of our first dates in London. She's intentionally used her hand and fingers to hide Drew's face as she makes a kissy face towards me.

I remember that date, almost as clear as day. Drew was jet-lagged, coming from America to Paris for fashion week and then after a few too many glances across the aisle at the miu miu show and consequently a night together on the bed, and then the floor, and then the shower, and then...well you get the point, of my hotel room.

He flew over for no more than twenty four hours once all his obligations as a brand ambassador were over and before he had to fly back to the states . Because of course he did, and his spontaneity and outright love for me from day one was one of the many things I adore about him. It was a horrible day, and he dropped his stuff at my house and we hid under the safety of my small black umbrella as we did sight-seeing. All the touristy stuff,: Big Ben, London Eye, Portobello Market.

And we ended up at this little pop up Photo Booth, somewhere under an arch in Covent Garden — and we got in, somewhere along the line the umbrella failed and I had wet hair stuck to my face.

That's the first photo on the strip, me laughing as Drew smiles at me and pushed my hair behind my ear,  not even realising that the photo was taken. The rest are normal couple photos, ones silly with us pulling goofy faces, ones juts sweet as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and I tilt my head to my chin sits on his cheek.

And the last phone of course...a kiss. A kiss that looks sweet on the strip but in actuality ended up being a hot make out session until someone who wanted to use the Photo Booth pulled open the curtain and revealed us. I laughed and Drew was embarrassed and flustered as he pulled me out with profuse apologies to the poor friends who stare at us, clearly knowing exactly who were. which only made me laugh more.

I stare at it, more focused on the strip that I now know he keeps in his wallet or somewhere it's easily accessible and my copy sits pinned to the cork board that hangs on the wall of our living room, back in New York. A place I haven't been back to in almost three months.

my smile lifts with my gaze to look at him " you carry that around with you? The photo booth strip? " I ask and he pulls a confused face with a small smile " yeah, of course I do- it was our first date."

And then I hate myself, because mines on the cork board on the wall of our living room, back in New York, which is a five hour flight away. And his is carried around with him like I most likely am in his mind. And I just...I just don't.

I hear a cough, my head turns in reflex because I know whose voice it is. My eyes catch his, from a few people down — he reads the guilt that is in my eyes and I catch on the slight hint of concern for me that resides in his. I momentarily glance at Olivia who is waiting for him to look back at her, but he's staring at me.

I turn away, before he has any chance to communicate with no words or any noticeable actions in a way only few can with me. I Squeeze Drew's hand and smile at him.

Leaning in slightly " next time, I'll come and visit you in Carolina...they have photoboots there right?" I hum and he leans in further, bridging the gap between us with the soft touch of his lips.

When he pulls away, he nods " yeah, I don't think America's that behind Olls."

He says that and I smile, because I love him. I really, really do love him.

But I fear that the only person in the world who could jeopardise that, is sat there, still staring at me when we pull apart and reenter the conversation.

AUTHORS NOTE.
I think someone's beginning to realise something...