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wastelandcth · 3 years

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best years - cth

summary: dovey and calum go through a rough patch, leading dovey to believe she gave up her best years.

author’s notes: hello everyone...this is angst and part one out of two. good luck! inspired by this tik tok.

warnings: angst and sad overall

masterlist || request || more doves

I’ve got a million reasons to hesitate and baby a million more are added every day.

Dovey had always been there for Calum. She'd been there through the drama that came along with being in a well-known band. She'd been there through the highs and the lows, through the rumors and controversies. Dovey had stuck through everything and every day it seemed like more and more came into light, like the man she had fallen in love with became a stranger. Suddenly, Calum was no longer her best friend who would tell her everything, he was the stranger in her bed who hardly was around.

The fight hadn't been intentional. Most of the time, the Doves would talk anything out. Whether it be a disagreement over something small like where the pillows on the couch should go or whether it was something big like how their lives would be affected by the latest album release. This time, it was different, stubbornness and yells meant that Dovey found herself in a lonely bed while Calum locked himself away in his office. And with only a few days left before Calum left for tour with no plan on when or if Dovey would join him, the Doves went to sleep in different beds.

It had started when he'd left for tour. Usually, Dovey would drive him to the airport and stay until the band's flight was called and she had given him one last hug until they were reunited again. This time, Calum had suggested saying their goodbyes at home that it would be the best since there would probably be a lot of fans at the airport. Although she wasn't too please with their break from tradition, Dovey found herself hugging him on their doorstep, whispering a soft I love you before the man she loved stepped into the car that had been waiting.

The next time Dovey realized something had changed, she had been on facetime with him. He'd seemed distant, his eyes drifting off from the screen and his interest in whatever conversation he and Dovey were having being torn away at some joke Michael had told. Dovey thought he might've noticed something was off when she had hung up on the call, hoping he'd call her back and she could claim it was an accident, but her phone never rang again that night. It felt like the harder Dovey tried to connect with the man who was an ocean away living his dream, the more she realized exactly how disconnected they were becoming.

I spent so much of me on you I forgot who I became.

The longer that Calum was away on tour, the more Dovey found herself. Days that would've been spent alone in a foreign city while Calum was in a radio gig were now spent with friends in the city she'd learn to call home. Mornings, where she’d usually wake up in a cramped bunk next to a grumpy Calum, were spent taking Duke on a hike and clearing her head.

One day after she'd gotten home from the grocery store, a pang in her heart threatened to ruin the good mood she'd been in when she saw Luke's partner post a picture of them all in front of some monument miles away. But with a shake of the head and a double-tap on the screen, Dovey put some music on and danced the tears away. It wasn't until later that night when her mind was awake that she clicked on the picture again, finding those brown eyes she'd fallen in love with two years ago staring back at her. She could tell something was different, that the smile he had on didn't reach his eyes and his eyes didn't shine like they normally did when he was having the time of his life. But things were different now, and Dovey wasn't going to let her life revolve around him as she did before. If he wanted to talk to her as much as she wanted to talk to him, he would've called. He had her number and for some unknown reason, had decided to not use it.

Finally found a reason to walk away.

The final straw had been a picture. Dovey had been used to seeing fan meetings on her social media, smiling fans grateful to have been able to meet Calum and talk to him for even just a second. But the second a video of him had started circling around the internet and made its way onto her screen, Dovey had just about had enough of the stupid shit Calum had been putting her through the last two months. She understood being too busy for at least a phone call or text. Touring was hard work and Calum was known for pushing himself to the limit. She understood wanting space from one another that maybe this tour was something Calum needed to do on his own in order to clear his mind and think about what their relationship meant to him. But the one thing Dovey wouldn't stand by his side when he was the one that had been telling people she was the one who hadn't wanted to join him. She wasn't going to stand by his side while he told his bandmates and the rest of the world that she hadn't wanted to join him because she was being dramatic. If Calum wanted drama, Dovey could be dramatic.

The house that I built you made it a mess.

Dovey had been out of their house, the house that had been filled with memories of them and their love, for about two weeks now. Duke had joined her in the passenger seat of her car that sunny afternoon when she had stuffed all her belongings into the back seat and rode off out of the city. Her parent’s house that brought along the comfort and warmth she had been craving for months was a few hours away and far enough away that any reminders of Calum could be put aside. The small town she had left all those years ago brought her peace and gave her the space she needed from whatever waited for her back in LA, if anything even did wait for her.

Her mother had met her in the driveway, a tight embrace and promises of better times made Dovey's heavy heart lighten up as she saw her childhood home still pretty much the same as the day she had left it. The living room still had candles everywhere and the tv was playing the same movie channel her mother loved to watch on her days off from work. The kitchen was still stocked with snacks and fruits that seemed too real to be fake. And the backyard was still a playground for any and every dog Dovey had brought home, even Duke who had settled on laying in a sunspot to nap.

Her bedroom had brought on a new set of challenges, the posters on the walls and the albums on the shelves brought tears to her eyes as she saw those brown eyes looking back at her. He'd be back in their house soon. Dovey wondered how he'd react to find himself in an empty house. What he would think of when he saw the letter she had left him on the kitchen counter since at that point any attempt to call or text him was met with radio silence. He'd probably try to call her at that point, she hoped, but only to see where Duke was or he'd get Ashton to do it for him. Dovey wasn't too sure about anything when it came to Calum anymore. She wasn't sure if he would even care that she had left the gold band on the counter next to the letter or that she had left her keys to the house in the little ceramic tray they had painted on one of their dates so many months ago.

I’m left with broken pieces can't help how I ran out of tears.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the tour had ended and Dovey hadn't heard from any of them. She hadn't heard from Calum since before she'd left the house almost a month ago and she hadn't even gotten a text message from Luke, who would update her on what had been going on during the tour. It was been one week since Dovey had run out of tears. One week since she had decided that leaving was the best option and that she had made the right choice.

It had been a week since she realized just how much of herself she'd given away to Calum only to have nothing left for herself. It took her two weeks to realize that if he had wanted to talk to her, he would. If he had wanted to see her or even Duke for that matter, he would've driven to where she was. So when her tears were dry and the pain in her chest was nothing more than a dull pressure whenever she thought about him, she began to fix whatever broken pieces she could.

It began when she packed away all the old posters that hung on her wall, the smile on every single one leaving her breathless like it always would when she saw it in person. The sparkle in his eyes bringing fresh tears to hers, tears that she would blink away and continue on with taking him out of her life. By the time her childhood bedroom was nothing more than the furniture and bare walls, Dovey felt lighter than she had in months. It didn't last long. As sleep called her name and her eyes closed, Dovey was brought back from whatever dream she was about to enter when the buzzing noise went off next to her head.

I'm sorry.

I lost all my best years just missing my best years. past love burned out like a cigarette im free now baby all I regret are my best years.

Sitting in the living room, watching back old family movies and nursing the drink in her cup, Dovey couldn't help but feel like an idiot. She'd given Calum the best years of her life. Gave him all the good times and shared the most wonderful moments with him all for him to leave her with silence and no explanations. She'd gone through the stages of grief, had tried to make her new life without his work, and then he had shoved his way back in with no warnings in the middle of the night.

The text message hadn't been the only thing Calum had sent, no matter how hard Dovey had wanted it to be. He'd sent her a voice note, a five-minute ramble where his accent had gotten too thick for Dovey to try and decipher what he was saying through the tears and sniffling. He'd apologized for the silence, apologized for the lies, and even apologized for forcing the silence he'd caused from the rest of the band. But Dovey wasn't going to just let him into her life so easily, she wasn't going to let him in after the months of silence and heartbreak. She'd lost all her best years and she needed to find herself again before she could ever consider letting Calum have more of the best of her.

taglist: @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lyss-xo @lowkeyflop

#calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood fics #calum hood oneshots #calum hood x reader #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos fics #5sos oneshots #5sos x reader #calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #gemma writes

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a-decent-steve-coogan-blog · 4 years

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Steve Coogan Reaches the End of ‘The Trip’

New York Times 20.05.2020.

He plays a version of himself in the movie series, which is ending with “The Trip to Greece.” In reality “I’m not quite as precious as I come across. But there’s certainly a lot of truth in it.”

As fans of “The Trip” movies know well by now, Steve Coogan has a shelf full of Baftas, the British equivalent of the Oscars. It’s a feat turned running gag throughout the films as he flaunts it at virtually every opportunity.

So when Rob Brydon, his traveling companion and comic foil, asks Coogan what he’s proudest of in “The Trip to Greece,” the answer is perhaps not surprising.

“My seven Baftas,” Coogan says.

“For me, it would be my children,” Brydon says.

“Well, because you haven’t got any Baftas,” Coogan replies.

“You have got children,” Brydon retorts.

In “The Trip to Greece,” opening Friday on video on demand and some theaters, the preening Coogan and laissez-faire Brydon, playing slightly exaggerated versions of themselves, come to the end of their decade-long series of gastronomic excursions. The structure is familiar: They drive through breathtaking scenery on their way to multi-star restaurants and hotels, peppering their conversations with bon mots, celebrity impersonations and insults.

Only this time, the director Michael Winterbottom has given the men six days to retrace Odysseus’ 10-year journey from Troy to Ithaca, while finding their own ways back home.

In a Zoom session from his house in Sussex, England, a mustachioed Coogan, 54 — who in real-life received two Oscar nominations for “Philomena” (2013) along with those seven Baftas — spoke about staying relevant in middle age, imagining where his character winds up, and quarantining with his 23-year-old daughter, Clare, and her boyfriend.

“I’m just this kind of slightly annoying dad that comes in and goes, ‘What are you guys doing?’” he said, with a flash of goofy laughter. There wasn’t a Bafta in sight.

These are edited excerpts from our conversation.

How have you been coping during quarantine?

I’m lucky that I’m in lockdown with my daughter, who’s just a fantastic cook. Each night I go, “Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.” And I’ve been writing a lot, because that’s one thing that we are still able to do. We already isolated ourselves.

What have you been churning out?

I’m a bigamist writer; I’ve got various partners. I’m writing a post-woke comedy-drama — a sort of romance, really — with a female writer in L.A. We’re navigating the rocks of the new sexual political landscape, shall we say. I’ve also written a drama about a hippie commune in Wales in 1969. And Jeff Pope and I wrote about the woman who found the body of Richard III in a car park. This is the third screenplay we’ve written since “Philomena,” and it’s quite odd that two middle-age men write stories about female empowerment. [Laughs] We’re desperately trying to hang on by writing things that are proper, modern.

I’ll write another Alan Partridge, too [a reference to his vain talk-show host character]. It’s nice to do stuff that’s pure comedy because then when you write it, you laugh a lot. And when you laugh, it releases endorphins — or is it serotonin? Pleasure chemicals, I get them confused. [It’s endorphins.] But anyway, it makes you feel good.

With “The Trip” movies, you’ve eaten and written your way through northern England, Italy and Spain. How did you, Rob and Michael decide that Greece would be your last adventure?

Four felt right. And Greece, it was a classic. The Greek philosophy and mythology lent themselves to this huge, contemplative quality, and having me returning home and mimicking Homer’s “Odyssey” to this sort of conclusiveness. We also felt on a level, “Let’s quit while they’re still good.” That’s not saying we’d never do another one, but it feels like we should wait. Right now our thing is middle-age angst, but pretty soon it will just be old-man angst.

These movies are a showcase for Steve’s attempts at erudition. Do you actually have all that knowledge rattling around in your head?

I do prep work, but I’m naturally curious. I had a quite good education, I would say. I went to a Catholic school, which in this country was a bit like a free private education. The curse is, if you’re from very humble origins and you haven’t had a good education, you don’t know what you don’t know. Then if you’re half well-educated, the curse is that you’re aware of the knowledge you don’t have. That’s what I felt I was. In answer to that, I love to learn.

So yes, I do my homework. Rob doesn’t do his homework, but that’s almost deliberate, because he can trivialize my quest for the truth, as it were.

This time around, Steve’s father is seriously ill. You lost your own father two years ago. What was it like tapping into such personal memories?

Funnily enough, I did a version where I was very emotional. I wept as I would when I re-emulated some of those scenes. Then Michael wanted me to do it again and just hold it all back. I think it’s probably better for that, because audiences don’t like completely candid displays of emotion, whether happiness or sadness. Audiences like to look for stuff. And painful stuff is where you find good art, I suppose. Otherwise you end up with some vanilla-flavored mediocrity.

What misconception might viewers of “The Trip” have about you?

I’m not quite as precious as I come across. But there’s certainly a lot of truth in it as well.

Onscreen, Steve grapples with relevancy in middle age. And offscreen?

Right now I’m probably the happiest I’ve been — with the proviso that there’s no such thing as a state of big happiness. I’d like to work a bit less, to be honest. But I’m grateful that I’m able to make creative choices based purely on whether I believe in the thing I’m doing. Also, weirdly, this lockdown meant that I discovered a parallel universe in my daughter that I hadn’t really been aware of before, because I’ve not spent this long with her since she was a child. That’s a kind of strange blessing.

What life do you imagine for Steve now that his journey has ended?

When I shot that scene of going home, it felt strangely poignant — almost as if, I said to Rob afterward, I got dementia in my old age, I might imagine that that was my life. It felt real. And in my head I suppose it plays out that he does come home, he does return to the stability of those people that love him. Craving the stability more than the excitement of being rootless, of being nomadic. Yeah, it’s a funny little thing, playing a version of yourself.

#steve coogan #new york times #The trip to Greece #juststeve

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