falling

Please be mine, London boy?

I have no idea what's going on, where we stand or what the hell I am doing here. He is clearly done, his nine days of silence showing me that more than enough. But, a part of me, a bigger part of me can't be down with that. We can't end like that. I have to say something and I have to say it to his face. It meant too much to me, he meant too much to me. He MEANS too much to me to walk away without giving it a last try.

Since none of his friends have been helpful the past days, I am not stupid enough to try them now either. I go down to the court where I think he might be at this time of the day. I smile when approaching the outside court for knowing him so well.

He is shooting hoops with some guys, none who I know. I stand behind, out of their view, and watch him. Almost instantly tears start to form in my eyes and my breathing gets heavy. My God I have missed him. A day hasn't passed that I haven't read through our conversations or looked at pictures. I have tried to stalk his IG as well, but he posts almost as little as I do. And in the nine days not a single post. I carefully take the next steps and decide to sit up in the stands. There are a few other people spread across the stands, some on phones, some chatting and some eating. British rap can be heard from the small speaker beside their bags and jackets in the first row stand. 

I make my way and sit down. Its a dark, chilly June night in South London. As I sit down and cast my eyes to the court again. He catches my eyes and freezes noticeably as he fails to catch the ball thrown his way at that second. His buddies shout at him, asking what is he doing and if he is done. He contemplates all the while staring into my eyes. I am so overthrown by emotions that a few tears run down my cheeks. He visibly gulps and turns his back to me: "no, its fine" he says to the others and continues to play.

As I watch him it hurts if possible, more, then it has the past nine days without him.

After an hour, they finish up. They gather around, talk amongst themselves, stretch, drink, banter and laugh. I am not sure by this point if he will even come over or if he'll just ignore the whole thing and walk of court in the opposite direction. 

They start to split up one by one, I watch him take his bag over his shoulder, his water in his hands and turn around to walk towards me. As I am sure he is approaching me, I stand up and come down a few rows. 

H: What are you doing here? – he says as he comes to stand in front of the stands where I am now only three rows up and thats where I stop. This is the safe distance. I can see him clearly, but can stop myself from throwing my arms around him and pull him to me. He takes the cap of and takes the bottle to his lips, throwing his head back a little as he does, acting all casual and indifferent. Like I am just anybody. Maybe by now I am.

J: I came to see you... – I say gently, emphasizing the YOU. But I also feel the nervousness and embarrassment in the pit of my stomach. Seeing his indifferent stance and cold eyes make me feel even worse.

H: Why? 

He seems unfazed, even confused. Oh my God this was a mistake.

J: Because... We haven't talked in nine days... I...

H: Doesn't that tell you something? - he shakes his head, like yeah-so-what

I am surprised by his forwardness, coldness and the way he is dismissing me. I am on the verge of crying. There are no emotions that can be read in his eyes. I am so surprised it is getting difficult to breath by the second. Those eyes that I love so much but, seem to in this moment, to hate me.

I take a deep breath and try a calm approach even though inside me there is a shits-storm swirling around

J: I get that you are mad but, I