Outside

28

Maybe he's just scared.

Scared to commit to someone who has nothing but a small house in the middle of London, who's still living under the same roof as her parents at the age of nineteen, who lost her job because she just couldn't deal with being told things she didn't want to hear.

Scared to love someone who'd be staying at home whilst he's on the other side of the world making some other girls happy, singing away to a crowd of people who'd do anything for him, even travel across oceans to see his face on stage.

I can't get my head around it, this whole situation. Sitting in front of Van, who's clearly getting frustrated at me whilst I try to dig for some kind of indication that he does in fact like me back. But so far I have nothing. Nothing but watery eyes and trembling hands as I sink further into the couch and pick at the skin around my nails nervously waiting for him to just say something.

It's clear that of us know how it got to this point. How it got from us kissing in some bed and breakfast in a town four hours away to screaming in each other's faces in my listen now despite the throbbing pain in my head. How it got from me dancing on tables with my best friend to being curled up in the corner of my bed crying, not knowing whether the tears were being caused by Van or the agony of my hangover.

"What're yous thinkin' about?" He asks suddenly, and I snap my head in his direction but he isn't look at me, he's just staring at the wall in front of us.

The living room has been practically silent for almost twenty minutes now, the only sound coming from my shaky breaths and Van tapping a random beat on the arm of the couch with his fingers. As annoying and repetitive the sound is, I can't bring myself to tell him to stop because in a way, I sort of appreciate that the room doesn't fully lack any noise, I don't know if I could sit here for any longer if neither of us were moving or making any noise.

He opened his mouth a few times to speak, but he closed it whenever I turned to look at him. I saw it in the corner of my eye every few minutes, and I just couldn't understand why he can't just say whatever needs to be said. The awkward silence is getting too heavy and I hate it.

We awkwardly moved from the kitchen to the living room when the air got too thick to stay in, when we realised the booming of our voices was echoing and bouncing off the white tiles, giving him a head ache and making mine even worse. I say we like it was a joint decision when actually I walked out because I knew I didn't want to carry on arguing with him and he followed, because he knew we weren't done yet.

"Yous gonna talk or what?" Van says, his voice is low and his eyes are focused on the blank TV, I contemplate turning it on so that he actually has an excuse not to look at me, because I just know that he's trying his best to avoid my eyes and I don't know why.

I shake my head at his question, frowning when I look directly at him, "what's there to say? You said it yourself long distance relationships don't work" I snidely say, repeating what he said when I stupidly invited him for dinner with my parents.

"You know I didn't mean that love" he looks at me this time and our eyes lock for a moment, but only for a second because he clearly can't handle the awkwardness of it and he looks down at his bouncing knee, "I was put on the spot I didn't know what to say, your parents are dead intimidating y'know" he smiles ever so slightly and I can't help but crack a grin too.

"You could've just ignored them, that's what I do" I giggle a little and push the loose strands of hair from my face, as if it would somehow help me see the bigger picture, help me see reasoning behind what Van had said that night.

"I'm sorry yeah?" Van apologises again but this time it's sincere, it isn't forced and his voice is much more delicate and honest. It almost made me forget what he was even apologising for. "D'ya wanna forgive me darlin?" His smile is full of hope and his voice cracked ever so slightly with vulnerability. hope that I'd say yes and everything would be okay again.

I scoot over to the other side of the couch where he's sat and I fall onto him, resting my head against his shoulder, making it known to him that the answer to his question isn't no.
But in all honestly I don't think I want to forgive him either. He still hasn't told me what he wants from me, or what he's actually trying to achieve as he leads me on further and further.

I don't say anything else. I just sit back and enjoy the way his arms warm me up in this cold house, the way he rests his chin on the top of my head and the way he hummed ever so quietly the tune to a song I didn't actually know. Even though I was enjoying his company, I just wanted to know why he never indicated that he liked me, not even once. Even when we were on a date, he still told the bartender that we were just friends. It didn't make sense then and it still doesn't make sense now.

I felt like a teenager, getting so pressed and annoyed over the simple fact that I just wasn't as important to Van as I'd hoped. Maybe if Van and I hadn't slept together, maybe if he never kissed me, if he never called me 'love' and if he never took me on that date, maybe I wouldn't have believed it when I told myself he liked me back. Maybe I would've have been so offended when he told everyone I was just a friend, all whilst kissing me behind closed doors.

I wouldn't have minded Van calling me his mate if he never did things that made me believe I was more than that.

"I'm sorry Van" I say randomly, surprising the two of us after silence fell upon the room once again. He lets out a hum and furrows his brows, "for overreacting" I add.

"Oh love don't apologise!" Van laughs and he shifts around to face me, "you've done nothin' wrong, I don't blame yous for actin' the way you did it I'm honest"

"You're not mad at me then?" I ask, wondering whether he's bothered by the way I shouted at him in the kitchen, or by the way I never actually answered him when he asked me if I forgive him.

"I was never mad at you" Van replies, his eyes wide and his smile growing, "only reason I'd be mad is because yous don't see how much I want you" he sounds frustrated but he tries to conceal it with a soft whisper as his eyes shut for a second, and sighs before laying back down with his head against the arm of the chair.

I didn't know how to reply, every time he showed me that he wanted me, he just ruined it and crushed my hopes by saying we were friends to everyone who walked by. It's so confusing. I can't see how much he wants me because whenever he showed an ounce of affection, it was all just in a 'friendly' manner.