Meet Me at the Bus Stop - LS

Chapter 3

A/N

Video is one of my favourite bands of all time- and the video for this one is kinda gay themed, so I thought I'd leave this here.

The film I talk about from 5USA is an actual film that I watched with my gran, and I only remembered about it 'cause I saw the main guy from it in a shitty American sitcom at 4am on E4 haha.

Thats all I had to say, thanks for reading!

TTFN

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"Hi Gran!" I say with a large grin on my face, walking in with two mugs in my hands and some ginger biscuits. I place them down on the table next to her chair and give her a hug in greeting.

"Oh hello, love! How've you been? Haven't seen you yet this week!" She says as I take a seat on the settee across from her armchair.

"Yeah, sorry- been held up trying to work through all my work and stuff." I say scratching the back of my neck.

I mean, it's not a full lie- between that, going out with the friends I actually have now and the overwhelming thoughts of 'bus boy' that wouldn't leave my head...

"Ahh don't fret hinny, as long as you get here Saturdays, I can't complain!"

I offer her a smile and take a sip on my tea, putting my attention on one of the many shoddy 5USA daytime films that my Gran constantly had on. This one's called Saved By Grace and seems to be about a guy who lost his wife, finding a lady who lost her son, and she brings him to a church to give him reason to carry on. I'm really not surprised.

I get pulled away from this so call film, by my Gran saying, "Stef will be at church tomorrow y'know?" she said with a bright smile and excitement in her eyes.

Gulping, "Is she now?" I ask wearily. My eyes darting to the mug I'm holding in my hands. "Why's that? She seems to be around a lot lately."

"She is indeed, Moraine was telling me that she's fighting with her Dad a lot so she's staying with her for a while. Perfect opportunity for you to seal the deal Harry! She a looker remember, don't take too long or someone else will pick her up!"

"Pick her up? She's not a slab of butter Gran!" I say with a chuckle, "Anyway, how's Uncle Colin doing? Have you spoken to him yet?" I ask, trying to change the subject, which she seems to take.

"He's doing Colin. Still trying to be Jim Morrison. He's in his forties for goodness sake! Thought he'd have more sense than that by now." She said with frustration, but I couldn't help but admire at my Uncle's dedication.

The conversation just continued like that until my Granpar came in from the garden and I sat with him in the conservatory, doing our favourite thing and going through his record collection before we got barked to bed by Gran. Saying that "we need to be fresh" in the morning.

When I lie back in bed that night, in my tiny cabin sized room that just about fits a single bed, with my Uncles old bedside drawer that has been plastered with images of the bands he feel for as a teenager. I smile in content thinking about my grandparents.

Then my mind turns to bus boy. What would they think? If they knew about these thoughts, everything would change- let alone if anything actually came of it. Why is it that something that can make you so happy, can turn and be something that you are afraid of wanting.

Afraid of love- what an oxymoron...

With that thought, I shove my head deep into my pillow and bring my covers over my head, eventually getting to sleep with a frown on my face.