Where I Found You

Chapter 3 - Will, now.

Chapter 3 - Will, now.

Three damn days left. Yesterday I had an alcohol-free, girl-free, party-free day and surprisingly the pain wasn't as bad as usual. Nothing numbs the pain like a party but I need to stop all this crap. Knowing that I'm seeing Alyssa in seventy-two hours keeps me going. Besides, I promised myself that Adriana was the last fuck before getting to Cambridge. I can't afford to keep doing this all the time cause it isn't making me happy. With every party I leave it opens me up to the agony even more, even though I keep forcing myself to go to them - as if it's going to help my mood.

Anyway, yesterday I started packing, getting a few things into my bags before giving up and taking the X-box back out and going on COD. I swear that sometimes the thing keeps me sane - it's like my version of therapy. My mind somehow manages to delete Alyssa for about half an hour at a time, but when I finish it, Niall pops into my head. Gone now are the days of sitting side by side in his small living room discussing girls while we shot each other down on the TV screen.

Would I have moved, if I hadn't have found Alyssa again? Hadn't fallen crazily in love with her? If she hadn't have had that stupid accident and lost her memory and I hadn't have gotten frustrated? If I hadn't have told my dad I wanted to move, and he hadn't have agreed because he thought I was serious when I was just confused?

But I might've moved anyway. Forget might've - probably would have. Leila was always going to go to Oxford and if I hadn't have met Alyssa again then I wouldn't have ended all the rule breaking at school. And rule breaking is just the reason that my dad gave for wanting to move before that.

Before I brought it upon myself.

I stand up off my bed just as my mother walks into the room. Her curly dark hair doesn't bounce as much now and the light's gone from her blue eyes. I'm making her like this. She's disappointed in me and somehow that's worse than if she were to shout or slap me. We manage to get through whole days without having a proper conversation and I find myself avoiding her gaze.

Just like now.

Out of the corner of my eye I see her place a pile of my t-shirts on my bed, all washed and ironed. Pretending to search through my drawer for something, waiting for her to leave, I feel my heart clench.

"What are you looking for?" Her voice isn't sharp, more like bored. Energyless. She's getting sick and tired of me, yet she still washed and ironed my clothes.

"Nothing," I admit. It's the truth, really. I turn to face her, to see her eyes are piercing right into mine and her hands are on her hips.

"William Palmer, if I find out that you're hiding cigarettes or something in there," she begins, but stops when I let out an exasperated sigh.

I sit down on my bed and then she comes to sit beside me.

We are silent for a few minutes. The way she stares into space with her light blue eyes reminds me strongly of Katy. How weird is it that my mother reminds me of Katy?

What am I turning into?

"I don't smoke," I tell her finally.

It's her turn to sigh then. "I know. I just don't know what to expect anymore."

Running a hand through my hair, I look away from her. "I'm sorry, mum."

She doesn't say it's okay, or it doesn't matter. She doesn't say anything. Not for a while, anyway. Then finally, "Do you love Alyssa, still?"

The lump in my throat is back, and now it's worse than ever. Part of me wishes I was back in primary school and didn't know anything about what being a teenager was like. When girls were just as good playmates as guys and there was no confusion about crushes and rumours and detention and exams.