Party 'til you pass out / When the party's over

Oliver

A few months passed. I went to therapy, nearly stopped going a couple of times because I hated it so much. I felt the same way I had done years ago; as if they were trying to open me up and turn me inside out, sectioning me like a lab rat. I felt vulnerable, and I didn't like that feeling, certainly not during the hard times in my life. But I promised Alison, so I went, but I didn't have the click with my psychiatrist now as I had with doctor Baker in the end of my time in the clinic.

It was the end of July now, and the world had opened up some more. We had celebrated Alison's thirty first birthday with a private party in Church, the lads and I had been working hard on our next album. I felt pretty okay lately, with some bad days every now and then. But at least I talked to Alison about it now, and I was able to see my family and friends. Life wasn't so dark anymore, especially not now Alison and Chloe kept to their word and had planned a ten day vacation to Malta for the whole band and Tom and Lizzy. We could all use some sunshine, since we had been having a real wet, Yorkshire summer here thusfar. Luckily we were due to fly out tomorrow morning, and Alison was having last minute packing stress.

'Oli? Have you seen my bikini?,' she called from the bedroom. I looked up from my computer and frowned.

'The fuck should I know where your bikini is?,' I hollered back. She didn't respond and I got up to find her sitting on the bedroom floor, clothes scattering around her, and her in the middle of it with her opened suitcase. I chuckled at her distressed face.

'For once it's not me having last minute issues,' I said. She scrunched her face and sighed, getting up.

'All this planning I did, and I can't even get my suitcase together,' she complained, picking up a dress and folding it. I sat down on the end of the bed and watched her gather a few clothes, folding and packing them.

'Do you think I can wear this again?,' she asked, pulling a little white dress from her closet. I smiled at her holding the dress she had worn when we got married again last year.

'Are you planning on getting married then?,' I joked. Alison chuckled and looked back at me.

'No, one problematic husband is more than enough,' she threw back. I gasped, put my hand on my heart and let myself fall back on the bed, playfully offended. 'I still love you, though.' Alison crawled up to me and kissed me.

'You'd better,' I muttered, pulling her on me. She smiled and kissed me again while she obviously forgot about packing for a moment. Her lips trailed over my jaw to my neck, and I let my hands find her hips.

'Ali?,' I muttered, not wanting her to stop but also not wanting her to stress even more about packing after we would finish our making out.

'Hmm?'

'Weren't you packing?' To my regret, she stopped trailing her lips over the sensitive skin in my neck and sat up, looking down on me.

'I'm overwhelmed,' she whined. I laughed and pushed myself half up on my elbows.

'I'll help you. Sit down.' Alison slid off my lap and sat down at the bed. I gathered all her clothes from the ground and threw them on the bed, picking them up one by one for her to judge them and decide whether she wanted to pack them or not. Fifteen minutes later, her suitcase was packed – including two bikinis - except for her toiletry bag and some other daily necessities. She fussed about some other things, made sure we had all our documents and papers ready to grab, cleaned up the house and finally came to bed around midnight.

The next morning we dropped the dogs off at my parents, met up with Tom and Lizzy who dropped off their dog too, and got down to Heathrow Airport in my car. We were all looking forward to this vacation, and the vibe was on when we gathered with the rest of our big group before checking in. Jordan and Emma, and Lee and Deni had their kids with them, and Jordan's son ran up to me.