Homeward Bound/Home

                                    

                                          
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Happy New Year. Un edited. Not that I ever really edit anyways, but this is less edited than usual, because I usually proof read at least. Either way, it's New Year's Eve and I have stuff to do :) Enjoy :) Despite the morbid theme. Still wanted to post in 2013 for one final time hehe :)
                          
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Darren’s POV
                          
 When I find Aisha the image almost breaks me.
                          
I don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not. It’s never going to be fully okay. But it’s alright not to be okay.
                          
 So I don’t say anything. I just hold her tight, and stay with her through this. I press my cheek to her hair, eyes bright with my own tears that threaten to fall, but I hold it together, for Aisha.
                          
Aisha’s POV (later)
                          
 “What about us?” Darren asks me. “The press. They’ll be lethal if they think we’re together.”
                          
 “I don’t care about that.” I murmur. “I care about you. They can think whatever they want to think, but the only thing I care about is you.” I reassure him; my fingers splayed either side of his face.
                          
 “Okay,” He tells me, and leans in, pecking my lips, before we start to leave. I’m wearing a plain blue pleated number, which is strapless, with a black belt around its middle. I’m also wearing a pattern of black bracelets on my arm, and a black bow, like Darren. And heels.
                          
 We reach the venue, and we walk out to the red carpet to lots of camera flashing, and screaming from the press. Probably surprised Darren came, let alone with me.
                          
 “DARREN! OVER HERE! Darren! Straight ahead!” A certain member of the press yells at Darren, and he turns to her, a tiny, forced smile on his face, and one look at him tells me he’s annoyed.
                          
 I take hold of his right hand in both of mine, and his instant tight grip confirms his annoyance. He looks at me in appreciation, and I return the look. He’s here, and we’re both here for each other.
                          
 The intimate, and frankly private, moment is broken by the insistent flashing of cameras and yells of “That’s it!”
                          
 So much so that I want to snap at them. Darren seems to realise this, and squeezes my hand, gently pulling me further down the line before I acquire myself a headline in the tabloids.
                          
 “Straight ahead Aisha! That’s it! Thank you!” I turn to the person who said thank you, and direct most of my forced smiles at him, as we pass that part, grateful for his slight politeness.
                          
 We carry on, and I slip my hand around Darren’s waist, squeezing comfortingly, and we take a few pictures posed like that as he does the same to me. I make my way inside faster than Darren as he is pulled away by his cast mates for some photos, so I carefully make my way over to a more secluded and quieter area, needing to thank Jonathan.
                          
 I pull out my phone and dial his number.
                          
 “Hello?”
                          
 “Hey, it’s Aisha,” I tell him.
                          
 “Oh, hey, what’s up? How are things?”
                          
 “As well as they can be, I guess. So, I just wanted to thank you for telling Darren where I was earlier. I appreciate it,” I tell him genuinely, meaning every word.
                          
 “How did you know?”
                          
 “Because you’re you.”
                          
“I, well, I thought you may need him, even if you guys aren’t together-“