Outside

27

The sound of snoring wakes me up today, not even the throbbing pain in my head after last night's drinking session, not even the loud bickering of my parents or the barking from the dog. Just the sound of snoring which I'm certain isn't mine. It's strangely familiar though.

I stopped wondering why it was familiar when I opened my eyes and saw the body passed out on the bean bag in the corner of my room. And my heart froze and my hands trembled when I realised who it was, when my eyes adjusted to the slight darkness and I recognised the floppy hair and the leather jacket he used as a cover.

I close my eyes again, hoping he'd wake up and leave soon so that I wouldn't have to pretend to be asleep for any longer. But the pain in my head and stomach was too much for me to focus on acting like I was asleep because I could feel last night's fun coming up my throat.

My feet shot out from under the cover, immediately meeting with the cold air of my bedroom due to the window being slightly open for some reason, and I barely even make it to the toilet before I'm throwing up the unhealthy amount of alcohol I had stored in my stomach all night.

Sitting on the floor for a few minutes, I wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do with the boy in my room. I can't go back to bed now, I'll wake him up if I haven't already, to be honest I'd be surprised if he's still asleep. But I won't be able to stand the awkwardness if I walk back into my bedroom and meet his presence, I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to him after last night.

I hardly even remember it if I'm being totally honest, all I can recall is dancing on a table to some song from the eighties and then being carried up the stairs. The events in between are completely blank in my mind. I'm glad I drank so much that I don't remember, I'm sure I said some embarrassing shit to Van and if I did I don't want to have any of it in my memory.

"You okay love?" I hear a soft tap on the door followed by Van's gentle voice, my stomach erupts with what feels like butterflies and before I can even answer him I'm spewing more and more.

It doesn't take long for him to decide to walk in, maybe my silent treatment towards him didn't reach his brain because he's kneeling down beside my and pushing the lose strands of hair out of my face.

"C'mon darlin', you're alright" He says, his voice echoes off the tile walls and instantly softens the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The burning sensation in my throat stops me from speaking and instead I nod carefully and slowly in order to prevent myself from going dizzy and I let Van gently pull me up from the floor of my bathroom. Keeping myself from falling down the stairs is a hard task especially when Van is the one trying to steady me, that lad couldn't hold anyone up to save his life, not even skinny little me. It makes me wonder where all of his knowledge of wrestling he claims to have is actually going, because it's certainly not going to his brain.

Sitting myself down at the table, I watch as Van looks around the kitchen for something to make, something that won't come straight back up again or make me feel like utter shit. But Van can't cook at all and I'm nervous to see what he's going to whip up.

After a few minutes I decide that the lights above me are too bright for my eyes and I lean my head down onto my arms whilst I wait for Van to call me out for being such an idiot for drinking so much, tease me about how drunk I always get when I only promise to have one or two.

I lift my head up a little when I hear the chair scratch the tile floor and Van sits opposite me, placing a plate of toast down in front of me along with a tablet and a glass of water and he looks straight into my eyes, gazing at me until I'm forced to look away from his strong stare. The way he waited for me to say something hurt because I knew I wouldn't be able to tell him how I felt no matter how much I wanted to. It wasn't the right time, I don't think it ever would be.

"You're alright love" he suddenly speaks, his soothing voice helping me more than any pain killer could, "s'just a hangover yeah?"

"Yeah just a hangover" I roll my eyes, push the toast to the side and cross my arms over the table, leaning my chin on them as I look up and dare to meet his strong gaze, "it's more than just a stupid hangover" I mumble quietly hoping he doesn't hear me, hoping he doesn't

He looks sad, his eyes guilty and full of regret. "y'know I'm sorry love" he says lowly and copies my actions, his face extremely close to my own when he leans across the table on his arms like I was doing.

I sigh through my nose, closing my eyes ever so slightly, not fully but enough to see the sadness in Van's expression. our faces are so close and I don't know what to do other than sigh, frustration is building up inside of me with every blink of his long eyelashes.

But the hurt and the heartbreak and the excruciating pain I felt in my chest and my head all just withered away when he inched towards me, his eyes closed and his lips not even three centimetres away from my own. And when I felt it on my skin, just a small, subtle peck on the tip of my nose, the heart I thought was going to be broken, melted instead of shattered.

I almost forgot the reason to why I was even mad at him in the first place.

"I didn't make that toast for nothin' you know" he chuckles and leans back in the chair, eyeing up the toast I'd left to go cold beside me. I didn't mind if it had gone cold now though, I needed something to take away the horrid sickness I felt and I'd take anything I could get at this point.

"Sorry" I giggle when I notice the dimple in his cheek again, I feel like I haven't seen him smile for so long. I feel like I haven't seen him for so long. In reality it hasn't even been a full week.

When Van leaves to 'sort himself out' in the bathroom, I take the time to reflect on this whole situation. It's confusing to say the least, I don't even know what we are to each other and it's even more bewildering to know that whilst I'm sat here wondering why I got so worked up about him addressing me as his friend, he's literally above me in the bathroom most likely wondering why he stayed over at my house instead of just going home.

In a way I'm thankful that he stayed, thankful that I wouldn't have had to spend the day in bed feeling like I was on the verge of death. I'm glad that instead of going back home he stayed to make sure I actually woke up. I don't think anyone would be surprised if I didn't, the amount of alcohol I consumed is more than enough for a small girl like me.

But then again, I'm a little annoyed because he stayed and now I've fallen back into the habit of wondering whether he feels the same way I do. It's not fair for him to mess me around like this, my mind is racing with thoughts and feelings I can't even describe and it's all because of him. He's giving me these weird emotions I've never felt before and I hate it. I hate not knowing where I stand with him.

"Y'alright sugar? look a bit lost" Van's humour shines through the solemn look he has upon his face and I can't help but smile at him for the first time this morning.

"I'm fine" I grin up at him. It doesn't last long though because when he opens his mouth again, it's not about me looking lost or having a hangover, it's not even about the toast he made that I'd only eaten half of.

"Y'know Lyla, I didn't mean what I said" he says, his serious tone matches the serious expression as he sits opposite me once more. "I don't wanna be your mate" he looks down at the wooden table and pokes with the dents as he waits for me to reply.

"Then what do you want from me Van?" I ask, my voice rather loud and I shock both him and myself with the sudden volume I'd just pulled out of nowhere.

"Yous know what I want, innit not obvious?" Van raises his voice too, and I didn't even realise until they fell down my face that my eyes were full of tears.

I couldn't cry in front of him. I've tried so hard up until now to not shed a tear over the fact that I'm in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way, and he broke my chain of days where I wouldn't let anything fall from my eyes. I didn't want him to see this side of me, the weak idiotic side who gets attached too quickly, cries when something goes wrong. I just wanted to be the same person he always saw me as. Whatever that was, as long as it wasn't weak.