Only An Almost (XIX)

Only an Almost (XIX)

Chapter 19: Ascent

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

We only have two chapters left, including this one :(

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 5157

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew was never more aware that he was getting older.

The hangover that was stabbing his temples with daggers was the best reminder of all.

Details from the end of the night were fuzzy, at best. He wasn’t certain how he got home, but he had somehow managed to reach his bed. He was still wearing his shirt and pants from the wedding, his hair was a mess, but that was nothing compared to the fog that clogged his brain.

He made a stop by the kitchen first to drink some water, prepared some strong coffee. He splashed some cold water on his face to clear his head. Christ… he needed a shower. Maybe two.

He could recall a cab driver, some very loud music, jumping up and down with the beat, Sam and Daphne laughing, getting drunk on purpose…

… and then there was you lying in bed, fast asleep, him kissing your forehead in a chaste kiss, tucking you in, helping you through the mansion, finding you in the park, the fear of not knowing where you were, him singing that song to you even if the dance was meant for the married couple…

He could hear your voice ringing in his ears, echoing through his head, beating in his heart. Words that rang again and again. Words that he had dreamt of hearing.

He took a couple of deep breaths, and let the unkind voice in his head take over. You were drunk. You didn’t mean it. You said it yourself you didn’t want to be in a relationship, and especially not with him. You were scared, you didn’t want to take the risk, didn’t want to make the sacrifices that a long-distance relationship would require, not for him, at least, because he wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t enough and you didn’t love him, you were just drunk, you didn’t mean it…

He turned on his phone, checked the time. It was already 1pm.

Messages from his friends, from Sam and Daphne, one from his mom, a few from his label…

… and then 10 from you.

He swallowed thickly, but touched your name first anyway.

Hi! I hope you got home safely last night.

First, thank you for taking care of me. I was drunk… obviously

A true gentleman, as usual.

I’m so sorry you had to see that. I was hammered. I wasn’t myself and I said things I shouldn’t have.

Andrew had to stop reading. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, bracing for the rejection that was sure to come… again.

Still, he read on.

I know that I’ve fucked up, and that you don’t want to see me anymore. Which is perfectly understandable, and I completely respect your decision. I had no intention to contact you again. It was completely out of line for me to confess my feelings.

Andrew read that last sentence several times, before rushing to the next text.

I’m sorry about what happened. I know you don’t want to see me anymore, and again, I completely understand. I was an idiot and I’ve fucked up everything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it. At this point, I just hope that what I said last night didn’t make things even worse.

I know that you’ve probably moved on by now, and I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t even expect an answer to these texts, and I will simply not contact you again if you choose not to answer. I guess that alcohol simply made me reveal things I would rather not have confessed. I trust you not to tell anyone about this, even if you don’t want to talk to me ever again.

I reckon that I should make it clear, although I expect that you don’t feel the same anymore, that I meant what I said last night. And I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, and told you how I felt while I still could.

His eyes ran through your words again and again, but they remained unchanged, no matter how many times he read them. He let out a long exhale, unable to believe what he was reading was true.

You couldn’t be meaning that… you couldn’t…

I’ll see you this afternoon at our cute couple’s get-together for post-wedding day, before they enjoy their well-deserved honeymoon. Don’t worry though, I won’t initiate a conversation, and will completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again. Also, I’ll stay sober this time, just in case I do something stupid.

If I never hear from you again, know that I wish you the best. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

Andrew struggled to breathe for a moment. He dropped his phone on the counter next to him, buried his face in his hands.

What the fuck was going on?

Andrew hadn’t texted you back. He didn’t want to have this conversation with you over a phone. There were too many things to be told, too many things to be discussed.

He was a ball of nerves by the time three o’clock arrived and he stepped in his friends’ house. Some help was needed to make sure that the rented mansion was in good shape, to take care of the rest of the food and drinks, and obviously, to have another party to celebrate the newlyweds.

And you were there. Standing in the kitchen, making tea, your demeanour perfectly calm, as if you hadn’t dropped a bomb that had shattered his life in a million possibilities the night before…

“Andy!”

You turned to him at the sound of his name, he noticed the way your lips parted, before you looked away in a hurry…

The next second, he was engulfed in Sam’s strong embrace.

“How are you, Mr. Married-man?” Andrew joked, returning the tight hug.

“Ecstatic. Not realising what’s going on…”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Daphne’s gone with her mother to deal with something… don’t remember what… but somebody has to go to the venue to check that everything is fine before we leave for good. Can you do that?”

“Sure, I’ll go.”

“You want some tea first?”

“No, no… I’m fine. I’ll deal with that.”

“Y/N can go with you, you might need help. The caterer left some food there apparently, even if they were supposed to deal with that and pack it up. Also, check that no one has broken anything, we were all quite drunk last night.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

Andrew looked at you, but you didn’t move towards him. You remained standing there, in the kitchen, the kettle in your hand. You looked almost afraid, definitely uncomfortable.

“You’re coming, Y/N?” he asked, making sure his voice was neutral but still soft. He didn’t want you to believe that he was angry.

You jumped, surprised that he would talk to you. Still, you nodded in a hurry, putting the kettle down.

“Yeah… yeah…”

You offered him a smile, and he reciprocated the gesture. You seemed appeased by it.

You both hurried outside, greeting some other friends who were coming and going, set on different errands. It was merry despite the grey sky and the threat of some new rain.

“I’ll drive,” Andrew said as you reached his car.

“My car is right over there, I’ll follow you.”

“No need, I’ll drop you here after we’re done. Come on.”

You remained staring at him for a moment, clearly trying to gauge his actions.

“I’m not angry,” he said, reading your mind too easily. “You can come in.”

Slowly, you nodded, and opened the car door.

It was silent as Andrew started to drive. An awkward kind of silence that Andrew tried to alleviate by turning on the radio. Van Morrison filled up the empty spaces of the car, while you tried to discreetly look at him, failing miserably. He wanted to laugh at you for being so obvious about it.

It was a short drive to the venue, but he couldn’t find anything to say to you. His throat was dry, he could feel his palms getting clammy at the mere thought of speaking to you. There was too much that needed to be said…

“Andy…” you finally broke the heavy silence, while he was waiting at a red light. “About last night…”

“Can we… can we not do that now?”

When he looked at you, you were clenching your jaw and looking away in a hurry.

“I’m not angry,” he repeated, his voice soft but neutral still.

He didn’t want to let himself get emotional now. There was too much to say and too little time before reaching the venue. Besides, he didn’t want to speak about this in his car, this wasn’t either the right place nor the right time.

“But we should talk about all this after we’re done with the venue and everything… like… when we’re alone and we have time to discuss things.”

“So… you… you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah… I reckon we should.”

“We don’t have to. I understand that you hate me, that you don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again. You don’t have to be this kind to me.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. Christ, you were so wrong… about everything…

“I could never hate you, Y/N. I don’t have that in me.”

“I hurt you. A lot.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You should hate me.”

But he slowly shook his head, eyes still fixed on the road, and he hoped you wouldn’t notice the way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“That’s not how love works, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, but he could feel your stare upon him. He didn’t know what he could add, so he let the rest of the drive pass in a silent haze, his mind swarming with thoughts and feelings and trying to figure out what he wanted, what he should do, what was reasonable…

More than anything else, he thought about how nice it was to smell your perfume in his car again.

Andrew had taken care of the caterer and the food while you were going around the bedrooms to make sure nothing was wrong. He was looking for you to give you a hand, the mansion was rather large, and the keys needed to be returned after everything had been cleaned and put in order, or fees might be added. Andrew had offered to pay for everything, but Sam and Daphne had refused, and seemed offended by the idea, so the best Andrew could do now was to make sure they wouldn’t pay anything extra. A few other friends and family members were also helping out, and everything was ready.

He found you in one of the bedrooms. You were checking the room quickly, but everything seemed to be in order, except for something that seemed to have been forgotten on top of an old wooden wardrobe. Andrew looked at you for a few seconds as you went on your tiptoes to try and grab whatever object was up there, but you were too small. An amused smile was drawn to his lips when you huffed in annoyance.

You turned around in a jolt when you heard the floor creaking under his weight. He said nothing, stopped only when he was close to you, so close he would only have to bend to kiss you… And then he reached up, and grabbed the forgotten object.

You both exploded with laughter as Andrew revealed a green bra.

“Somebody had fun here last night,” Andrew laughed.

“They definitely got lucky!”

He handed it to you, but you shook your head.

“I’m not taking this, I have no clue who it belongs to!”

“I can’t walk out of here holding a bra!”

“Why not? Is it better if it’s me?”

“Y/N… They’ll think I had sex with someone!”

“And if I walk out with this they’ll think I had sex with someone…”

He rolled his eyes.

“What do we do, then?”

“Can’t you hide it in your jacket?”

“Can’t you?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, grabbing the piece of garment and stuffing it in the pocket of your vest.

“Alright, crisis averted for our famous diva.”

“A diva? Me?”

You both chuckled at that.

“No, not at all… I don’t know why I joked about that.”

“Because you’re mean.”

He was joking, but your face fell, and the next second you were taking a step back and clearing your throat. And the moment had passed.

“It was the last room. Everybody behaved, apparently.”

“Good… that’s grand… let’s go, then.”

But when he turned towards the door, you held onto his hand.

He lost himself in your eyes… in their shade that he saw at night still, despite the long weeks you had spent apart, and they looked begging now, soft and vulnerable.

“Can we… can we talk before you take me back to my car?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“We can go to my place.”

“Your place?”

“Or yours.”

“You’re sure?”

“We should be alone for this. Alone, and undisturbed.”

You nodded in agreement, letting go of his hand again. He hated the cold of the air that replaced your skin.

You walked out in silence, managed to discreetly get rid of the bra in a bin, stopped to chat with a few friends, but Andrew could hardly be patient anymore. He was careful not to be rude when he pulled you away from the conversation so you could walk back to his car. Still, when you looked at him before climbing in his car, you seemed to read right through him, through the mix of emotions in his hazel eyes, from the impatience to the fear.

“Let’s go to my place,” you said softly as Andrew turned on the engines.

He nodded in silence, struggling to regulate his breathing. There was so much hope and bitterness mingling in his heart now, being injected to his veins, preventing his lungs from functioning properly.

Why had you acted like you didn’t care if you loved him? Did you even love him? Really? Would you be ready to give him a chance? Had you dated anyone since that night?

The drive to your house was made in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. There was music playing on the radio, but Andrew couldn’t notice it. It started to rain at one point, heavy and cold droplets that made it harder to see the road.

Not a word as you both climbed out of his car and hurried to your door, fleeing the rain. It was cold as it dropped on his face, the contrast stark when you let him in your house that was so much warmer.

“Tea?” you merely asked, but didn’t wait for his answer to go prepare a kettle.

He remained frozen in your hallway. All of a sudden, that evening was playing over and over in his head. He looked at the doorknob, and thought about leaving. Just… running away. Never see you again. Then what?

He would spend the next months, or most probably years, trying to forget you, trying to move on. He would bury himself in work so he could numb the pain. Eventually, he’d find someone new, build a life for himself without you in it. He’d avoid you at gatherings with your common friends. He would sing the songs he had written about you, trying to forget that you were the muse behind every note played and every rime spoken. You would find someone else too, get married, build yourself a home and a family with another person joining you in bed every night. Not him. He would never kiss you again, never hold you again, never hear your laughter, never giggle at your snarky remarks, never make love to you ever again…

“Andy?”

He spun around, facing you.

The choice was his. He could still tell you that he never wanted to see you again. That you had hurt him too much and that he didn’t want the two of you to stay in touch.

Or he could walk into your kitchen and talk with you until he was certain about the nature of your feelings for him. And then he’d decide if you were worth putting his heart on the line again or not.

He could run away, or stay.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, voice gentle, head slightly tilted to the side.

He nodded, took a deep breath, and walked over to you.

“Yeah… just… lost in thought.”

You handed him a cup of tea. No sugar nor milk. Two teabags. He recognized the tag of his favourite brand.

“We should sit down,” you offered, voice hesitant, but he nodded, and you smiled as you took a seat in your living room, around your wooden table.

He sat across from you, silently measured the distance that separated you. You were resting your hands on the wooden surface, and he ached to reach out, hold your fingers tight.

You didn’t seem willing to start the conversation, and after a couple of minutes of both of you silently staring at your cups of tea, Andrew exhaled deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, and finally broke the heavy silence that had entered the room.

“So… last night… when you were drunk…”

“Hmm…”

“I reckon we should start from there.”

“Thank you again, for helping me.”

“There’s no need to thank me for that.”

“Sam said you were worried about me.”

He finally looked up at you, gaze getting caught in your stare, and he couldn’t look away after that. He struggled to swallow.

“Of course, I was worried. You were alone, no one knew where, and you didn’t have your phone with you.”

“But you hate me.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“After what happened, you should hate me.”

He heaved a sigh, shook his head, his shoulders bent under an invisible weight. The burden of loving you despite everything…

“I don’t hate you. I’m just… hurt.”

“It’s not exactly better.”

“No, I guess not… But it’s not aimed at you. It’s aimed at myself.”

You blinked a couple of times, a pained expression on your features.

“Yesterday… you said…”

You looked away, setting your gaze on your tea, on the steam that was rising from the porcelain, on the coloured liquid inside.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Because you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I know you didn’t want to hear me say that. Because you want me out of your life, and I understand why. Because I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Andrew clenched his jaw, struggled to keep his heartbeat regular.

“Did you mean it?”

You brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, still avoiding his stare.

“Y/N, look at me. Please, look at me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, but then you complied, looked up at him.

“After everything that has happened, I just need the truth. I just need answers. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay…”

“Just answer me.”

You nodded, waiting for him to speak.

“Did you mean it?”

You blinked tears away, but slowly nodded still.

“When you said…”

His voice broke, he had to clear it to gather words on his tongue once more.

“When you said that you loved me… did you mean it?”

But you nodded again.

“I did mean it. I shouldn’t have said it, though…”

You fell silent when Andrew buried his face in his hands. He was struggling to breathe, struggling not to cry…

“I’m sorry, Andy… I’m so sorry…”

“Why the fuck did you reject me then?” he interrupted you, looking at you once more, his hands falling loudly on the table. “Why did you keep on pushing me away? On making me feel fucking miserable? If you loved me, why would you hurt me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to… I just….”

Your lips trembled, but you went on anyway, voice calm and a little cold.

“My life was a mess… still kind of is, to be fair. I had a new job, and then… then you kissed me that night at the bar and… old feelings came back. Feelings I had been very good at burying and forgetting. And I just… I didn’t want us to remain just friends, but… I was fucking terrified, Andy. I still am, to be honest. And so, I convinced myself that I could… have you while protecting my heart, which was the worst idea ever thought since the beginning of mankind, clearly…”

You heaved a tired sigh, rubbed your forehead as you tightly closed your eyes.

Andrew was remaining perfectly still, utterly quiet. Waiting for you to continue.

“I just thought… I thought that if we didn’t act like a couple, if we didn’t date, I would be able to control how I feel for you. I thought that it could be casual. And you accepted, and I thought… I thought that it meant that you were just attracted to me, and it helped me ignore my own feelings to believe that you just wanted sex.”

“I didn’t want you just for sex. I never did,” he interrupted you, and you stared at him with pain twisting your features.

“I’m sorry, Andy…”

“You said that it didn’t mean anything to you. You said that you didn’t have feelings for me, that… that you felt nothing when we were intimate. You said it was just about fucking…”

“I didn’t say any of that...”

“That’s how you behaved, though.”

“I didn’t say it was just about fucking…”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“It wasn’t about fucking. I always had feelings for you.”

He clenched his jaw, heaved a sigh.

“Why did you pretend it didn’t mean a thing then?”

“Because I was scared. And I didn’t feel ready to have a relationship with you.”

“Because I have to go on tours?”

“Yeah… not just that but… mostly, yes. Because you won’t be here. Dating you means signing up for a long-distance relationship, and I don’t know how to deal with that kind of situation.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“I understand that,” he mumbled.

“You’ll never be around… you’re always off to somewhere else. Our lives are so different…”

“But this is my home. It’s always gonna be my home. I’ll always come back.”

“How do you handle not seeing your partner for months?”

He let out a bitter chuckle.

“Badly,” he truthfully answered, and the two of you shared a sad smile.

“I was afraid to open up to you, to be vulnerable, to let myself feel this way… for you to disappear and break up with me because you’d have found someone better on the other side of the globe…”

“Y/N… I understand why my career can seem like a giant obstacle, because it is one. It’s… so fucking hard to not be with the person you love for months, and I’m so goddamn busy when touring that I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to give you the quality time that you deserve. It’s a nightmare to get our schedules to match, to plan everything out, and that’s without counting all the things that are added along the way that weren’t planned at the beginning of touring… And then there’s the press, and the writing, and the recording, and… and I understand, okay? I understand that you would reject me because of that. But Y/N… if you’re just afraid that I might fall for someone else because we’re apart for a few weeks… that is literally the least probable scenario that could ever happen.”

“Why would it be?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” he answered simply, earnestly, like it was the most obvious truth on earth. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years. And no one has ever replaced you, even when I thought you felt nothing for me, even when we both were dating other people. Trust me, you’re the only woman I want on this planet. The only one I really want.”

He watched as you took his words in, your lower lip trembling, blinking tears away.

“You should have told me,” he went on. “Instead of inventing this fucking arrangement, you should have just told me.”

“I know. But I wasn’t ready to try and be with you…”

“I would have waited. I would have waited for you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It was fucked up, Y/N… you… it just… it was so painful to me,” Andrew admitted, trying not to let his voice shake too much. “I felt… I felt like you were just using me. I’ve never felt so terrible about myself… cause I… I was just enough for you to fuck me, and nothing more…”

“No, that wasn’t that at all...”

“That’s how it made me feel. Not all the time, of course. There were so many times when I felt… loved. When I felt like you felt more for me than simple physical attraction; most of the time it was the case. And that… it kind of messed with my brain, made me feel like you wanted more; but every time we were getting closer to an actual relationship, you rejected me. And you kept on doing it, over and over, and sometimes it was so fucking painful. Almost mean. And more than unloved, it made me feel… unlovable. Undesirable. And I know that you deserve better than what I can give you with my career, but…”

“Don’t say that. God, Andy don’t say that…”

You heaved a sigh, and Andrew was taken aback when you suddenly stood up, walked around the table and held him close. He didn’t think as he wrapped his arms around you too, though.

“I love you,” you whispered as you held him close, and felt his entire body relax at your words, tears rising back to his eyes. “God, Andrew… I love you so much. I was just scared. It was just bad timing. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I acted like the worst piece of shit, but you are everything but unlovable, okay? How could you think that?”

“Say it again,” he whispered into your neck, noticing the way goosebumps erupted across your skin under his breath. “Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you, Andy…”

Before you could say anything else, he was standing up as well, catching your lips with his in the process.

He heard the shock in your breath, but then your hands were in his hair, and you were pulling him closer, until you were leaning back against the table. His hands on your face to make sure you would stay close. And Christ… the relief of kissing you again, of feeling your lips move perfectly against his at long last, of tasting you once more…

You held him so tightly when you pulled away, arms wrapping around his neck while you rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asked, voice hoarser than usual.

“No…”

“Have you? Since we’ve stopped seeing each other?”

But you shook your head.

“No, nothing. You?”

“No one.”

“Really?”

“You broke my heart… it does take more than a few weeks to get over that,” he chuckled, but you didn’t laugh, merely holding him closer, so close he could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was so scared. I tried fooling myself into thinking I didn’t love you, but I do. I love you…”

“I’ll wait for you,” Andrew whispered into your hair. “If you’re not ready but you’d be willing to give me a chance, I would still wait for you…”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t know about that. But I know that I love you, despite everything that happened. And besides… it wasn’t all bad. Most of it was good.”

“When I didn’t act like an arse, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“I loved it so much, you know? Whenever I let myself get closer to you… whenever I let myself love you… Christ, I was so happy then…”

“I was too. Whenever you let me in, I was happy with you. We could still be happy together, if you give us a chance.”

“I was breaking my own heart every time, you know? Every time, Andy… It was so fucking hard… but I was so scared…”

He pulled away, took your hands in his. He stared at you with begging eyes.

“If you want to try this, long-distance is going to be hard. It’ll be rough. Real rough.”

“I know.”

“I can’t… I can’t go through this again, Y/N.”

“Me neither. It was awful for me too.”

“So… if we try this… we give it a real try: I take you on a proper date, and we don’t hold back.”

“Are you sure you still want me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I still want you. Do you want me?”

You answered by kissing him, slow and passionate, making him melt against you, wrap his arms around your frame.

“I’m all in for the date,” you whispered against his lips. “But… can we still go to my bedroom now?”

“Before the first date? What about giving me a proper wine-and-dine treatment before taking me to bed, huh?” he playfully answered, grinning into your lips, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

“I’ll give you wining and dining and everything in between for our first date, but I really want you, right now…”

You fell silent when he let his lips fall to your neck and his hands rise to your breasts.

Little words were exchanged while you left a trail of clothes on the path to your bedroom, staggering now and then as your lips remained sealed to his most of the way.

Except when you were lying on your bed, head against your pillows, looking up at Andrew with adoring eyes as he hovered over you, staring at you like you had hung up the stars and moon in the sky. While he was trembling at the feeling of your naked skin against his, you raised your hands to hold his face, your thumbs gently brushing his cheeks, and his heart stumbled against his ribcage under your tender touch.

“I love you,” you whispered in the softest voice he had ever heard, adoration oozing from your sweet tone. “I love you, Andy.”

He rested his forehead against yours, lowering his body onto yours to feel as much of your skin against his as he could.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured with the same devotion and worship in his deep voice. “I love you so fucking much…”

And when he kissed you again, there was no doubt in either of your minds that this was what love was supposed to feel like.

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3450

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

Unreal Unearth social media promo where Hozier is a dry, silly, giant weirdo.

Holding a knife but promising it's not bad

"My absolute horsey gnashers."

"Postpone that funeral."

"I love to laugh (deadpan face)."

(Don't) Commit crimes and get Hozier tix.

Sophie's manifestation powers. "We did it, Joe."

"What I am in this video is an expert of where I'm gonna be in November." (As you should be, man.)

Most informed ticket marketing person.

Why is he like this?

Hozier On Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

❝ if you want a metaphor for oral sex, right, here you go. ❞

Hozier on the two previously unreleased songs from Wasteland, Baby!

❝ Further copies of the Wasteland, Baby! 5th anniversary 2LP coloured vinyl are available to pre-order 🖤

The album has 5 tracks that didn't feature on the original plus 2 previously unreleased tracks, Why Would You Be Loved & Be (Acoustic). ❞

Yarn holder