Journey || Erik Durm

♀

CHARLOTTE:

                     BEFORE I knew it, Erik and I were securely inside on the backseat of the police car, drenched in the tension of the moments past. I wondered what had propelled me to slide here instead of shotgun—what had predisposed Erik to trail after me—but as the detective fastened the locks from the driver's handle, I swallowed, my thoughts wandering elsewhere: to the encounter earlier today, to the reality of it.

The hours with Erik had passed in a blur—a surreal blur—and my seam of zealous emotions worsened as I realized what I was slowly beginning to feel for him. The frequent desires to be around him, the unbearable jealousy in seeing him with another girl, the heart murmurs as a result of his presence; what were they?

They were bad.

This was bad.

Girls like me didn't go around crushing on boys like him. Boys like him, who carried more baggage than they could handle, who had a personality as ruthless as his past, which remained a mystery to this day.

He was bad, like a charcoal scripture on white surface.

I sighed, closing my eyes.

He was also impulsive.

Perhaps that explained why when I opened my eyes, I caught him snaking his arms around my waist, his face leaning closer toward mine until merely centimeters deemed us apart.

I stared at him.

"You forgot your seatbelt," he murmured, reaching for it and clasping it shut.

When he pulled away, I felt relieved.

And then there was a part of me—the gnawing, irrational part—that felt dumbly and senselessly attracted to him, so even the relief disappeared as I realized where he was—there—and where I was—here—and that I desired nothing more than to tangle myself around him, which was the last place in the world it was realistic for me to be.

"Hmph," I finally said.

The ten-something centimeters diving us was doing no justice.

And justice has to be served.

I bit my lip, looking up at Erik, at the way his gaze was softly casted toward the star-crossed roads.

He stirred, nudging my shoulder. "You okay?"

Nevermind.

"Fine," I squeaked. "How about you?"

"Me? I'm okay."

"That's cool."

He nodded, allowing the conversation to end at that, and then with each progressing second, the air thickened with silence, the silence descending over the car like a hollow, unwanted presence.

Erik and I didn't do silence. We did hot-headed arguments and late night banter and bickered until our throats numbed, stinging with the aftermath of the words said, but even more so with all that remained unsaid. We deviously stole kisses from one another and buried our heads in guilt the morning after, but this, this plague of a silence, we did not do.

I heaved out yet another sigh, laying my head on the seat belt.

"You two okay back there?" came an elderly voice from ahead; the detective.

Erik cleared his throat. "We're fine."

"Charlotte?"

"I'm okay."