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#this is literally the dream😭😭😭 – @ukulelecal on Tumblr
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@ukulelecal / ukulelecal.tumblr.com

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If You Love Her // C.H - Part One

Note: well, hello! I have no idea when I last posted a blurb, so I know it's been a while. I don't know how many people are still reading on here, but I've gotten back into writing, so I thought I would post this! It's based on the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk and Meghan Trainor. I've decided to turn this into a little series of blurbs, inspired by different parts of the song, and this is the first one. I would LOVE to know what you think of this, as it has been a while since I posted, so any feedback would be really appreciated!
Word count: 1,302

“Can’t sleep?”

You huff and roll onto your back, suddenly feeling like there isn’t enough air in the room and the covers are touching you just a little bit too much. Calum had feigned sleep well, you didn’t know he was awake — but your tossing and turning had prevented him from falling into his own slumber. The heavy, bleary eyes and aching head is something that’s familiar to you — having never been one to fall asleep easily. You always need several aids for sleep to find you — whether it’s the TV, a podcast, or reading a book in bed until you eventually drift off. It hadn’t changed since moving in with Calum.

“No,” You sigh and shake your head, already sitting up, planning on accepting defeat in the battle against your own active mind. Calum hums sympathetically, spotting Duke curled up at the end of the bed — at least one of us is getting some sleep, he thinks. He has no intention of falling asleep and leaving you to sit and think, alone in the dark.

“Want to get some air?” He suggests. He has no idea what time it is, but he doesn’t really care — time is irrelevant now the world is locked down, all in a period of forced stillness. When it first came into play, he had tried to maintain some sort of routine — you had integrated your routine with his — but a few months in, it didn’t seem important anymore. You nod at his suggestion, knowing there’s no point in laying next to him, just staring at the ceiling. He pats your thigh with a warm reassuring hand, gesturing for you to follow him. “C’mon, gorgeous.”

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