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"It's the same old story and the same look in my eye."
You and James Marriott have been locked in a vicious cycle of being friends with benefits. He explains to friends and close relatives his frustration with you, however, they only express an untrue level of understanding to him leaving him in a liminal area. He wishes to take your relationship further but every time he tries, he is met with you ghosting him until the next time she needs him.
"Don't pretend you see me. It only serves me right."
You wait for a few days to speak with him again. You enjoyed this cycle to some extent, you knew he would come back to you every single time. You pretended to be interested in his feelings, how you hurt him, however, he knew what you were doing, now knowing of your schemes he decides he will no longer be a pawn in your game. He confronts you, finally planning to break free from the hold you have on him.
"I won't go slowly
She said, 'Won't you call me one more time?'"
James decides he will not give you the satisfaction of closure, no ending to your story. The final chapter of your relationship with him will be stripped away from you before you even realized. Though, you asked him if you could call just one more time. One more call wouldn't hurt.
"If you insist... god forbid that I romanticise this. "
He answered the phone to explain to you that he couldn't be friends with benefits anymore. You interrupt his breaking apart from you with a plea, "Please don't go. I promise I'll change...just come over tonight and we can talk about it." He knew what would happen if he went to your flat, but just one last time couldn't hurt...right? A distraction from the reality of it all, a final goodbye to the cycle you inflicted on him.
"god forbid that I romanticise this, god forbid that I romanticise this"
A rhythmic thought, a chant almost, a way to remind him that it's a facade. A simple mask to hide your controlling cycle that keeps him coming back to you. He constantly reminds himself to not fall back into your trap.
"It's the same old story
When you start to lie"
You used the same words when he arrived at your flat, the same pleas for him to stay. Nothing different at all. Your words started sounding more and more numb to him, as he had heard them all before.
"And you push against me to delay my decline"
You distract him from his thoughts; you put your arms around his neck and focus his attention on you. Your bodies now touching in the half-hug, you've got him yet again. He's fallen right into your trap. You knew he couldn't leave so easily.
"I won't go slowly,
She said, "Won't you hold me one more time?'"
James realizes he is back into your trap; he soon slowly tries to drift from your embrace, but you hold on to him tighter. His intentions of leaving slowly walking out of the door he should've never walked in. He gives in, he wraps an arm around your waist completing the hug.
"A bitter kiss...god forbid that I romanticise this"
The kiss is sour on his lips, the forbidden fruit he swore he'd never touch again. Even through the bitterness, the unsweet, resenting feeling in your actions he couldn't make himself leave, not yet.
"god forbid that I romanticise this, god forbid that I romanticise this"
His mind was racing; he should've left already but oh how he craved it all. He wants to leave but the way you kiss him beckons him to stay just a little longer.
"The last time..."
He tells himself he won't do this again. This is the last time he'll hold you, kiss you.
"This is the last time"
He repeats it in his thoughts while in your embrace. He breaks the kiss and walks out of the door.
"This is the last time..."
He drives down your street certain it will be the final time; he doesn't look back at you. Not once. Your pleas echoed down the street.
"(This is the last time)"
His thoughts consuming what could have been with you, he knows if he stayed, he would only find himself trapped further in the cycle. He feared if he didn't leave now, he'd never find the courage. This had to be the last time.
"Pick up the phone to let you know that you're alone now"
He texts you, "We are over. You're on your own now."
"The last time..."
He whispers to himself as he grips the wheel of his car; the eerie night hour consumes his silent drive. All he hears is his thoughts.
"I pick up the phone to let you know that you're alone now"
His car speeds up, rain starts to fall from the sky. His phone constantly rings as you try to call and text him, but he doesn't even glance at it.
"god forbid that I romanticise this, god forbid that I romanticise this"
A chant that falls repeatedly from his lips. The last words he'd ever say.
The car abruptly swerves; there was no apparent objects in the road, perhaps just a simple driving error that costs a man's life. His mind finally falls silent as his life flashes before him. The bridge felt quiet before the car barreled through it at rapid speeds. He didn't know how long it'd be before he was found in this watery grave. He did know though, how it felt to be free. How it felt to fly when he fell, how the cool embrace of the river flowing under the bridge held his body now and forevermore. He didn't fight it; no, he let it consume him.