Distance - Tom Kaulitz

Face The Music.

When Maeve entered the apartment, it was completely silent. The smell of coffee no longer wafted in the air, it was unnerving seeing it so lifeless.

However, the apartment wasn't empty like she had left it.

Charlie's mess of dark curls was seen over the couch. He sat hunched over, his head in his hands. He didn't say anything, or acknowledge her presence in any way.

Quietly, Maeve set her purse down on the counter, she didn't know if Charlie knew she was there or not. She fiddled nervously with her hands as she approached him. She moved her head to the side to try get a glimpse of his face, but they were hidden in his hands. Sighing, she took the seat beside him.

She didn't say anything, she didn't know what to say. Part of her was angry, whilst the rest remained confused. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to walk on eggshells around her best friend. She didn't want to leave before they seen each other, she couldn't bear anymore awkward silences.

"The first time we ever fought, I felt like the world was ending. Obviously I was a child then, yet it feels like that right now." Charlie's words were muffled as he spoke into his hands. Maeve turned to him with a frown.

Maeve didn't speak so Charlie continued.
"I swore I wouldn't fuck up again." He whispered. He lifted his head from his hands, sitting straighter as he looked at Maeve. His green eyes glossy.
"I'm sorry for fucking up, Maeve"

Maeve didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
She looked down at her hands, folded up on her lap. Her fingers moved the silver ring on her finger, a nervous habit. Beside her she heard Charlie let out a shaky breath.

"You really don't feel anything for me?" Charlie spoke quietly in a shaky voice, he looked at her with a pleading look, the look Maeve hated on him.

Maeve didn't know what to say. There was no honest answer that wouldn't hurt him.

She heard him sigh. His side of the couch rising slightly as he stood up. He walked over to the window across from the couch. He leaned on the side of his body against the red brick wall. He stared out at the city below him.

"Then why does this keep happening to us?" He spoke up again. His eyes glaring at the traffic outside.

Maeve looked up, not expecting those words. She had forgotten all about it, erased it from her mind like she thought he had done aswell.

"That was a mistake. I was what? Thirteen? I didn't know what I was doing, or saying" Maeve protested. She looked up at him, but he didn't look back at her.

Charlie scoffed, not believing her.

It went silent.

Maeve continued to play with her fingers, Charlie stayed at the window. Both wanting desperately to reach into the others mind and see their thoughts, the things they wouldn't say aloud. Maybe that would make understanding easier.

She kept her eyes trained on her hands as she heard Charlie approach again. Wordlessly, he sat back down in his previous seat beside her. He sat back, his legs spread out before him.

"What a shitty way to spend your first time in another country." Maeve joked. She didn't expect him to say anything, definitely not for him to laugh, but he did. A deep, tired laugh as he looked up at the ceiling.

"I would never of came here if it weren't for you." He mumbled.

Maeve glanced back at him, she smiled weakly.
"You would never step outside your home county if it weren't for me." She raised her brows at him.

He smiled at her and then back at the ceiling.

Maeve took a deep breath. She turned in her seat so that she was facing him.

"You and I wouldn't work like that. And what you think you feel for me, it isn't love. I don't know what it is, but I'm sorry if I made you feel like it was something more than friendship."

Charlie was silent for a while. His lips pursed. His eyes fluttered closed, for a moment Maeve thought he wasn't going to say anything.

"Why?" Was all he said. His eyes still closed.

"Why what?" Maeve frowned.

"Why wouldn't we work as something more than friends?"

Maeve stared at him. She moved her hand until it was holding his.
"We'd fight all the time, we would be miserable." She cupped his chin, moving his face to look at her. His eyes opened. "All you talked about when we were growing up was getting married and having kids. Buying a house in the countryside side, settling down in Ireland. That's not what I want, I wouldn't be able to give that to you." She argued.

"I would travel to every country in the world, if it meant making you happy." He protested, leaning forward towards her.

Maeve shook her head, "Maybe. You would still be miserable though, and that would be selfish of me. To drag you around and keep you from living the life you want."

"The life I want is with you!" Charlie breathed out, he looked at her, desperate for her to understand. "I mean, would it really be so bad to one day settle down? To not be constantly moving?"

Maeve pulled her hand away from his, she stood from the couch.

"This is the life I want. I want to travel and take photos. I want to spend my mornings editing and my nights out exploring cities, capturing it all. I don't want to drag someone with me, only for them to be miserable. I don't want kids to depend on me, and I certainly don't want to fail them. But I would, and I would fail you. I would be a shit partner for you. So don't tell me otherwise Charlie." Her voice grew agitated. She looked at him frustrated, her fingers combing through the front of her hair.

"So that's what you want, to be alone?" Charlie stood up, he was much taller than her. He looked angry, his voice proved it.

Maeve sighed.
"Maybe one day I will fall in love and get married. Maybe one day I'll settle down." She looked away from Charlie.
"But it won't be with you. We wouldn't be happy. It'll be with someone who wants to travel with me, someone who wants the same things as me." Her voice broke, her eyes began tearing up.

Before Charlie could say anything else, Maeve walked to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her she fell onto her bed. A single year rolling down her cheek and falling into her pillow.

Charlie rubbed his hands tiredly against his face. He looked down at the floor.

He felt his throat tightening as he suppressed a cry. His eyes were burning from the hot tears, filling his eyes until eventually they rolled down his cheeks.

He tried to calm his unsteady breathing, taking deep breaths in and out.

Nothing could stop the pain in his chest, the sharp stinging that he focused on. His heart raced in his chest, desperately shouting at him to talk to her again, to make her understand.

He glanced back at her closed door, wondering what she was feeling. He wished he could explain his feelings to her, tell her how she made him feel. Hold her in his arms, hear her laugh and see her smile.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. She was right, he did want kids and to grow old in Ireland. Yet he loved her.  The love he had for her was so large and great, that it made all the other things he wanted seem so small and irrelevant. 

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