The Bright Side

Chapter 13 - Part 2

TRISTAN

Two days since. Two days that I spent in my room, diving into the heavenly unconsciousness sleep provides and stuffing my face with sweets whenever I was awake like the most pathetic loser one can imagine. Movie-like. Two days that I spent every waking second with being angry at Sky for kissing me and ruining our friendship, for pushing me. And, fuck, I miss him. I miss him so much.

Mum let me stay at home, convinced that I caught something in London, that I'm sick. Which I am. In London, I got infected with a disease named Sky. I'm lovesick. Oh, bollocks. Who am I kidding? It didn't happen in London. It happened weeks ago.

I knew it wasn't just friendship that I felt for him. I'm thick, but not that thick. But I needed it to be exactly that. I didn't want it to become more than that. And at the same time, I couldn't really escape myself. And I slipped up. Hugging him all the time. Kissing his cheek. Yeah, super friend-ish. Snuggling up to him in bed, also super friend-ish. Super friend-ish to hold his hand all night, to check him out in the shower. I should try that with Mark and listen to his point of view on that.

It's probably for the better that he kissed me again. That this whole charade came to an end. But now what's left?

Turning things over in my head all the time isn't doing me any good and I decide to take a walk. I shrug into my army jacket and slip into my shoes, still wearing my sweatpants and my three-days-old t-shirt underneath and I try to hide my greasy hair under my cap.

"I'm going out!" I call over to Rory's room and to my utter surprise, he opens the door and carefully scans my face.

"Mind if I come with?"

Normally, I would've replied with a snide remark, but I just can't bring up the energy.

"No. You can come. If you want to."

He closes the door behind him and slowly follows me down the stairs. Rory locks the door behind us and we stroll along the street in silence. It's mid-afternoon so there are mostly Mums with children around, on their way home from day care, and groups of chattering pupils wearing those ridiculous black and yellow uniforma Rory and I wore, too. Back when things were normal.

We pass the bus stop, the bus stop, also known as 'the bus stop Sky had pushed me up against the wall and made out with me at'. Who am I kidding? It's 'the bus stop I had kissed him just as eagerly as he had kissed me'. It wasn't his fault. The soles of my shoes are stuck to the ground and I can't but stare at the bricks that had steadied my back while I was going at it with Sky. I can almost feel them again. And when I shut my eyes it all comes back to me. His taste. His feel. His incredible smell. The shivers along my spine. My arousal. It wasn't his fault. It was mine. I provoked it. I've been wanting and fearing for him to kiss me again for what feels like ages. And when he did it made everything fall apart. Made me fall apart.

I have no idea how to solve this.

"What's up with you, bruv?" Rory's voice is quiet and sincere and when I look at him there's an expression of true worry on his face.

There's no mocking, there's no nosiness, there's only compassion and openness.

"Heartache," I mumble, surprised that I'm actually about to confide in my little brother of all people.

"Still Carrie?"

"No, Sky."

My eyes are focused on the pavement and it takes twenty-three steps before Rory speaks up, even quieter than before.

"Doesn't he like you back?" There's not even a hint of judgement in his voice.

"He does."

"Ain't that a good thing?" Rory asks with curiosity in his voice.