Where I Found You

Chapter 5 - Will now.

Chapter 5 - Will now.

It's been two hours since I called Alyssa and she's still all I'm thinking about. She's all I'm thinking about everyday, but most of the time she's jumbled in with other thoughts of what I'm doing at the time. She is always there, in the back of my mind at least. Sometimes more than others. But now it's just her, and I can't think about her jumbled with anything else. Now it's just her, her image alone in my head just floating there in an angelic manner. 

I can't even think about packing, and while I don't give a damn about it, the little voice in the back of my head tells me I'm going to be cramming everything in on the last minute. 

"Alright." Leila appears in my doorway with her gleaming white shorts and bright pink Hollister t-shirt, suddenly all too bright for this situation. "Are you even gonna come outside to wave me off? I'm not gonna see you until like next month for October break. If you even come home then." she rolls her eyes. 

I smirk, and rise to my feet. "It is with great regret that I say I am gonna have a great time away from you." 

"Come on, bruv. At least give me a hug."  

I smirk and roll my eyes, wrapping my arms around my sister. It seems like a normal hug for once - until she pokes my side, hard. 

"Lighten up," she orders me strongly, and I realise I don't have a choice.  

I pull away from her, trying to look as un-scowling as possible without having to go down the fake smile route. I don't feel like smiling now and I feel like a right prick if I have to start giving out fake smiles. 

Downstairs, my mother is rushing around the kitchen with her hair spilling out everywhere she goes. In contrast my dad is sat casually reading the newspaper at the table. I walk in with my hands in my pockets as Leila gets her shoes on in the hall. 

"Leila, have you put everything in the car?" mum calls, a bit too loud for someone who's only a few metres away.  

I hear Leila click her tongue and reply, then I walk over to the counter and start to make a sandwich, leaving them to it. I can suddenly feel my dad's eyes on me but I'm too busy and too lazy to care look at him.  

As I walk to the fridge and get out cheese and salad and other random ingredients, I hear him clear his throat and ask me if I've packed. 

I make a non-committal noise in the back of my throat as I throw some toppings onto the bread.  

Usually my dad will not reply to me when I say "Hmm," or question me like my mum does. He doesn't go overboard, usually. He never freaks out. 

So I am surprised when he snaps, "Are you going to answer me properly?" 

I turn around to look at him, to see his eyes are flashing. I realise that he's sick of dealing with me like this, sick of a son who always disappoints him and seems to fuck everything up.  

Why do I decide to act so careless when I really do care? 

Caring can't be that bad, can it?  

If I showed I really cared . . . Because, I do . . . 

"Sorry," I mutter gruffly, and have to make the painful decision of looking him in the eye. "I mean, yeah." 

"Come outside then, and say goodbye to your sister properly." 

So that's that.

-

Sooner rather than later, she's gone. I have one less annoying person to worry about and at five when my dad goes to work for his night shift and my mum starts to make dinner for the two of us, I tell her I'm going out for a walk.