Outside

30

The cold wind blows in from the wide open window in Van's room, and I shiver beside an empty space where he lay not long ago. For some reason my arm is stretched out along the white sheets, reaching for some sort of comfort, a warm body to hold me in the freezing cold of his room. The sky is still a dark shade of grey, clouded over and full of mist, made me shiver just looking at it.

I check the clock on the nightstand beside me, and when I notice the big hand on the five, I begin to wonder what Van is doing out of bed so early in the morning.

My bare legs are covered in goosebumps the second I slide out from under the cover, and my eyes wander the lad's room, wondering where he could've disappeared off to, he can't have gone far since the door is slightly open, and his jeans have been picked up from the floor where he carelessly threw them last night. His t shirt is still hanging from the handle of the door, from when he took it off and chucked it and cursed a million times when it landed in the handle instead of on the pile of clothes shoved beside his dressing table where he was supposed to throw it.

I stop scanning the room and instead I shove on yesterday's leggings, leaving Van's jumper hanging loosely on my body, as I walk out of the room to find the boy who'd left me shivering in his ice cold bed at five in the morning.

"Van?" I say rather quietly, careful not to wake up Larry because everyone knew how he got when he hadn't had a full eight hours of sleep. Careful not to disturb Mary, who was curled up like a little ball of fluff on the arm of the couch.

"In't kitchen love" I follow Van's soft voice into where it came from and see him standing against the door frame, the door wide open, cigarette in hand, a sad looking frown on his tired yet beautiful face. "What's wrong? Why aren't you in bed still?" He asks me.

I furrow my brows when he asks me why I wasn't in bed, because he's the one who came for a smoke so early, he's the one who should've been in bed, with me. "Could ask you the same thing" I reply, perching myself onto the countertop as I wait for him to close the door and keep the heat inside.

Van sighs, looks down at the dark tiles of the kitchen floor, seeming to be at a loss for words "Lyla darlin, promise me you won't be mad or anythin' yeah?" He finally gets the words out after a moment of silence and his face suddenly falls, his soft features tense up and his jaw becomes sharp. He looks scared, so nervous and unlike himself.

I nod slowly, beckoning for him to come closer to me, which he does, and he stands between my legs and rests his hands upon my thighs.

"We got more dates in- like closer ones, so we're goin' back earlier than we thought" he looks down, a solemn look on his face as he refuses to look me in the eyes. My heart races as I think about what he's trying to tell me.

I thought he'd be gone in two weeks, and even that's early, how much earlier could it get? I thought I'd still have some time with him, to make up for the times we never had when we were just friends, to have more fun and act like idiots because he doesn't have to worry about leaving me so soon, but now he is, and I couldn't think of anything more heart breaking than him leaving between now and two weeks from now.

"When?" I frown, "like, how early?"

"We've to be on the road by Sunday, first show Tuesday" he says lowly and his voice cracks ever so slightly, the sadness in his voice slipping through with every slow breath he took.

"It's okay Van we still have like five days until then, we'll be right" I try to assure him, and myself too. But it doesn't work. I can't assure either of us.

I didn't think he'd be leaving so soon, I know it's only until christmas, but that's still a whole month or two without him, months of having to find ways to cure my boredom whilst my best friend is away with a group of lads who I'd grown two used to being around every day. Months of having to sit with my parents, listen to their arguments about who's turn it is to choose the channel, hear them hurl insults at me for being so down over a boy I'd only known for seven weeks.