Watercolour

Thirty

Into the thirties we go... 😵

Alana's P.O.V

"Is it alright if I go upstairs?" I asked the guys.

"Yeah."

"Good luck," Luke added quietly, noticing the phone in my hand. I gave a small smile in response before leaving the room.

I sat on the top step and unlocked my phone before pressing call and bringing it up to my ear. It rang a few times before going to answerphone and after the initial shock of hearing his voice telling me to leave a message, I hung up. My first thought was to check what time it was back home. It was half ten in the morning; he was almost certainly up already. I rang again.

Hearing the continuous buzzing and nothing else made me anxious. I started thinking about what I was going to say - what was I meant to say? I didn't want to let it get to answerphone again. I didn't want to hear his voice apologise for not being there. So after the tenth ring, I hung up again.

I stood up and leant against the wall, staring at the poster on the door opposite; Luke's door and, of course, a Good Charlotte poster. I laughed. Not necessarily because it was funny, but more because I didn't know what else to do. Yes, it was ironic and irony always seemed to crop up at exactly the right moment but tonight my pent up emotion decided it had been stored away for too long and came out in the form of laughter. All the stress and anger and hurt was coming out in the form of laughter. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"Michael, Calum and I are staying over tonight by the way," a voice said, taking me surprise. I turned and looked to see Ashton coming up the stairs towards me.

"Oh, okay."

"How'd it go?" he asked, gesturing to the phone in my hands.

"I... erm. He," I started as Ashton joined me on the landing, looking at me in worry.

"Sorry," he said, taking a step back. "You don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have asked."

"He didn't pick up," I answered rather bluntly, forcing a small smile before opening the door to the spare room and leaving him alone at the top of the stairs.

*

A sudden noise made me jerk awake and I instantly sat up, expecting to see someone sat at the end of the bed, trying to wake me up after oversleeping. I looked around the empty room at the dark outlines of objects; semi-illuminated by a thin strip of light coming through from under the curtains. I turned around to look at the clock but instead of being sat on the drawers like it should've been, it was on the floor beside the bed - that must've been what woke me up.

With my legs still wrapped up in the duvet I reached over and gently picked up the clock, turning it slowly in my hands to reveal the time... 6:04. Late nights and early mornings had become a familiarity over the last few weeks and even though every morning I anticipated switching on my phone and seeing an early hour, my heart sank every time.

I sat in silence, the clock still in my hands, for another couple of minutes - almost hoping to hear some movement from somewhere else in the house. But as expected, there was nothing.

I slid myself out from under the covers and grabbed my phone before going downstairs. Even though the others were asleep, it was oddly quiet; a quiet that, perhaps, I might have normally found eery was now calming and refreshing.

Once again, I found myself dialing Harvey's number and lifting the speaker up to my ear. I perched myself on the edge of the sofa and shook my legs in anticipation as the line rang.