Up in Flames (Flames #1)

Five

In My Head by Peter Manos

As Sunday morning turns into Sunday afternoon, my phone begins its incessant buzzing once more. If it weren't for Grumpy Greg, I'd let it slither its way all over my apartment. As it is, I pick it up only to glance at the excessive messages waiting for me, mostly from Akio, and turn it off to return to the empty silence.

I'm just about to lull myself back into a state of dozing when I hear my name being shouted. I sit up straight, unsure about who it could be. There's a series of knocks that sound far away, followed by a loud shout.

"LYLA I WILL KNOCK DOWN EVERY DOOR IN THIS COMPLEX UNTIL YOU ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE!" 

The voice is definitely Akio's, and I open my door a slither to see him at the opposite end of the hall, knocking on someone else's door. The creak that my door makes as it opens is enough for him to turn straight towards me, his focus laser sharp as he makes his way towards me and steps into my apartment before I can even think about closing the door.

He closes the door behind him, the silence echoing between us as he meets my eyes. I don't even have time to be embarrassed that I'm still wearing last night's clothes, and thankful that I hated my reflection enough to cover my face in foundation this morning, before he's letting out a huge sigh of relief. The room seems to be shrinking - surely it can't be big enough to hold both of us and my racing heart.

"Do you know how worried I've been? If you'd been kidnapped or killed or...or something last night, Tali would never forgive me. I would never forgive me. Do you understand?" His voice is harsh and worn, as if he's been speaking non-stop for the past few hours.

I nod silently, unsure what to say - what to do in this small space. The apartment I've been living in is only just big enough for me, with a small bathroom coming off the only other room in the apartment - kitchen and bedroom merged into one. I take a seat on my mattress and gesture for him to take a seat on the only chair in my apartment. He settles in it heavily, his body seeming to deflate. I'm struck speechless - I've never seen someone so concerned about me before. It feels...alien, uncomfortable. I've always just been responsible for myself, with no one to really answer to.

"I'm sorry, I just had to leave and I had to leave on my own," I say quietly, begging for him to understand something that I'm not sure if I completely understand myself.

"I get it. I get it, Lyla, more than you think." He lets out another harsh breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looks so despondent - I just want to take it all away from him, apologise for what I did, take everything back. In another life...

"Can I tell you something?"

His voice is softer and quieter this time, more serious and cautious. It makes me want to crawl closer and watch his mouth as he produces every word, to see the slope of his cheekbones as he articulates every sound. It makes me want to capture his expression and print it on a huge poster to place on my wall - I'd caption it "THIS IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE WHEN YOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING YOU CARE A LOT ABOUT." I wonder what my face would look like with this tone, but as I can't see his I can't even begin to imagine my own.

"Of course," I reply instead, the words coming out after a pause longer than I intended to present.

"I've been working at this place for a really long time, like for probably the last 5 years and I want to tell you about it; I've never told anyone before, but I want to tell you. Can I?" At this, he looks up - his eyes imploring me to say yes, to listen to what he wants to share. I don't bother to tell him that I'll listen to anything he wants to say, instead I just nod silently.