Deal With It - Sidemen Fanfiction

Chapter 2 - Invisible

The knocking on my door didn't stop for five minutes. Eventually the light from the hallway became blocked off by a body, sitting against the hard wood and a dull, soft knock suggested his head was leaning against my own as I sat centimetres away but a wall apart.

"I know you're there," the blonde haired boy murmured, his whispers barely reaching my ears as I too sat with my back to the door, "Vikk said it should come from you, that you need to be the one to say it. Whatever it is." I sighed audibly before falling silent for another minute.

"Hey, Josh?" came the reply again, "You still there?" This time I hummed softly, even the simplest of noises catching in my hitching breaths.

"Ok," he continued, still not getting tired of this one way conversation. I reached up to wipe the fresh blood from my face, my hands stained red. It will be fine. It's starting to clot now.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, another signal to my unwanted visitor that I was still sat just a door away. The screen lit up dimly in the bright room. Another text from her; the last thing I needed right now.

"Who is it?" he asked, not expecting an answer. My eyes slowly closed and my face smiled achingly at the sound of his eager voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I tease, breaking my silence despite my craving to make him wait just a day longer to hear me speak to him. His laugh was tuneful and melodic as always; not exaggerated like in the videos, just gently rising and falling in pitch.

"Can I come in?" He tried his luck again, scooting away from the door hopefully, as if he was expecting me to fling it wide open and fall into his embrace. I stood and stretched, my hand remaining tantalisingly close to the door handle before withdrawing it rapidly.

"Yo, Simon!" his voice rings out so clearly, the echoes dissonant and harsh, "Where are the spare towels?" I hear a groan from the other side of my door and then, more surprisingly, a light knock.

"I'll be back soon, Joshy."

He keeps his promise and soon my door opens again. He stands there sheepishly before reaching up his jumper sleeve and pulling a crumpled tissue before thrusting it in my direction. His eyes do not linger on the cut and the blossoming bruise across my temple but instead drift to meet my hazel eyes. I remember the first time I came home from an argument with her.

It wasn't the reddening cheek, freshly slapped that caught his eye as I fell through the front door, soaking wet and shivering. His blue seas met my hazel earth and he just stared searchingly.

"Come here," he murmured without demanding an explanation. I held my arms up to display the full extent of my dripping figure.

"I'm wet Si," I replied weakly without stopping myself from taking a hopeful step towards him. He just rolled his eyes and covered the remaining distance between us easily. His arms wrapped around me protectively and my head fell into his chest naturally, making me feel so much younger.

"I hate it," I admitted to his rising chest as we stood silently together in the hallway. I feel him shake his head, his chin ruffling my wet hair lightly.

"Hate what Joshy?" he asked smoothly, his childish nickname rolling off his tongue so easily it comforts me even further.

"This. Her," I reply quickly before backtracking, "Not her. Myself. I'm messing up everything." His warmth leaves me and my cocoon falls apart around me as he holds me at arms' length scoldingly.

"No you don't Josh," he quipped sternly, "Whatever has happened tonight, whether it is your fault or not, you don't get to say that, ok?" I shook my head stubbornly, trying to explain myself coherently but finding my sentences leaving my mouth in fragments, dispersed by the intermittent bouts of teeth chattering and involuntary shivers.