Apology Accepted

I braced myself against the airplane seat and prepared for the landing. Once the plane hit ground, I let my hands relax and I looked over at the man sitting next to me, who had a smirk set upon his face at the fact that I was completely terrified about being on this airplane.

Foster kids don’t go on airplane rides to visit people halfway across the world. It just doesn’t work that way.

I ignored his smirk and unbuckled my belt after the seatbelt sign dinged off. I stood up and filed out of the airplane, behind everyone. Once I was out, I was completely lost. I was pushed roughly from the side, thrown into someone, and nudged back. It was cold and I didn’t know where to go.

I looked around for Matt, but upon realizing I had no fucking clue what he looked like, I bagged that idea. I then realized that Matt didn’t know what I looked like either, and even if Oli’d told him what I looked like, that didn’t matter, because I dyed my hair and I don’t look like I used to. It’s not like he could describe every feature of my entire face to Matt, unless he had a picture of me, which I know for a fact he didn’t.

Tears suddenly came to my eyes and I felt like a lost six year old. I crossed my arms and looked down at the ground, staring at my shoes. I was bumped against again, and the tears had really started to fall by now.

I brought my gaze up and followed everyone else who had just gotten off the flight where they all stood at the baggage claim. I saw my bag coming around the corner and I quickly reached for it, pulling it down. The handle ripped from the bag and I dropped it on the ground, on top of someone’s foot. I quickly bent down and removed it, muttering sorry as quickly as I possibly could.

“What the ‘ell is wrong with yeh, yeh twit?” The familiar sound of a British accent met my ears, an unfamiliar voice behind it.

I quickly picked my bag up off the floor and wrapped my arms around it, carrying it over to the wall and dropping it roughly on the ground. I propped it up against the wall and looked up, surveying the room for anyone who looked remotely like Matt had explained himself.

“Big gauges, brown hair, and a lot of tattoos, but not as many as Oliver.”

I saw no one that resembled his description of what he looked like. He could have told me what the hell he would be driving, maybe mention what he would wear, but no. He gives me a completely undecipherable description of himself.

I sighed loudly and picked up my broken suitcase, carrying it towards the sliding door near what I had guessed to be the front of the airport. I walked out quickly and turned around, going right back inside. It was fucking freezing. There was snow falling from the sky and smacking the ground like rain falling against the ocean. There were icicles hanging from the edge of the building and people were walking around in winter coats.

You would think I would have packed my fucking sweatshirt a little closer to the top of my bag, but now that I think about it, it’s stuffed in the very bottom, near my underwear. I refused to drop to the ground and unzip my bag in front of everyone, just to dig through it for a sweatshirt that would hardly keep me warm in this kind of weather.

I dismissed the whole idea and clutched onto my suitcase, but since I was standing so close to the door, it refused to slide closed again, therefore, there was honestly no point in me standing there if the door was going to be open anyways, so I stepped outside and looked around once more, trying to look like I had a purpose for standing in the cold weather with no jacket, and no direction. I was just about ready to burst into embarrassing tears once more when a shadow cast over me, hiding me from what sun I’d managed to find.

“Are yeh Sam?”

I looked up to see a guy about the same height as Oli, if not shorter, and he had dark green eyes. A bundle of brown hair hung down in his face, and he had a hoodie on, covering not only his tattoos, but his gauges as well, meaning there would have been no way I could have recognized him.

“Yeah,” I mumbled quietly, “I’m Sam.”

“Righ’ then.” He smiled, “This your’s?”

He pointed towards my bag, and I nodded. A small smile came to my face as he reached down to pick it up and realized there was no handle attached to it.

“Um, I kind of broke it when I was getting it from baggage claim. I can carry it.” I said, trying to move my arms away from my chest.

“No, it’s fine.” He said, picking it up with both arms, “Yeh look freezin’. ‘M afraid yer arms will crack off if yeh pick it up. Meh car is over there,” He nodded towards a small black Honda and began walking towards it.

I lifted my feet up and trudged through the snow behind him. Once we arrived behind the car, he set my suitcase down on top of the snow and pulled his keys from his pocket. He pushed a button on the key pad and the trunk popped open. He picked up my luggage and set it down in the trunk, slamming the lid shut.

“Righ’ well,” He said, “Go on and get in the car. I’m about ready teh get in and start the car so we can warm yeh up.”

I nodded briskly and walked around to the right side of the car. I pulled open the handle and was greeted by the steering wheel. I mentally laughed and closed the door, coming face to face with a smirking Matt, who was scraping the snow off the windshield. I walked around to the other side of the car and let myself in, feeling extremely strange sitting on the same side of the car that I usually do, minus the steering wheel.

A mere few seconds later, Matt had stepped in the car, he shook his hood off, flicking little droplets of water on me, and I smiled a little bit, reaching behind me to pull my seatbelt down and buckle it across my lap.

He started the car and spun the heat button all the way up and turned on the air to full blast. As soon as the air started coming towards me, my goose bumps fell slightly and my hair blew against my collar bone.

“What the ‘ell were yeh thinkin’, not wearing a damn jacket teh Sheffield?” Matt asked, turning out of the parking lot.

“If I knew why, I’d tell you,” I laughed, slightly embarrassed, “I just didn’t take to mind that it might be negative fifty degrees here.”

“Oi, it ain’t that cold yet, just wait until December.”

I looked over at him and smiled softly. Just wait until December. What happened if I did stay until December? The car quickly fell silent as Matt drove on through the snow and around corners. I preoccupied myself with thinking so much about staying here with Oliver until December, I didn’t even realize that we had pulled into a parking spot in front of a small apartment building.

Matt shut off the car and looked over at me, “Are yeh alrigh’?”

“Um, yeah.” I said quickly, “I’m fine.”

“Well, let’s get your bag inside and I’ll let yeh know what we’re doin’, sound good?”

I nodded quickly and pulled at the handle on my door, the cold air quickly meeting the edge of my skin and making the small hairs on my arm stand up. I instantly wrapped myself in my arms again and stepped out of the car. Matt had already made his way to the trunk and had grabbed my bag, dragging it towards the door. I smiled sheepishly and followed him up to a door where he shoved another one of his keys into the knob and twisted it.

Once we were inside, I closed the door behind me and stood in the living room, having no idea where I was supposed to go.

“Well, I’ve only got one room in ‘ere. So, if yeh want, yeh can ‘ave the bed, but I thought that migh’ be weird fer yeh, sleepin’ in meh bed when yeh don’t even know meh..” He paused, “So if yeh want the couch, yeh can sleep there too.”

I nodded softly, agreeing with him and said, “Yeah, I’ll take the couch.”

He set my suitcase down on the ground and walked into the kitchen, pulling his hoodie off over his head. He turned the light on and walked over to the stove, placing a pot on the burner.

I went to sit down on the couch when he turned around and asked, “Do yeh want anythin’ teh eat? Or maybe some hot chocolate? Yeh must be freezin’ still.”

“Um, I’d like some hot chocolate, if that’s alright. And I’ll just eat when you do. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Well, ‘m eatin’ righ’ now, so what would yeh like?”

“Whatever you’re having.” I said softly.

“I’m a vegetarian,” He said, “So yeh migh’ wanna speak up now.”

“That’s fine, I’ll eat whatever.” I said again.

He nodded and turned around, pulling out a pan and something from the fridge. I took a look around the apartment. It was clean and I wasn’t terrified to sit on the couch in fear that I would get eaten by old food left in the crevices of the cushions.

While he started chopping and throwing stuff into a sizzling pan, I busied myself with thinking about how my trip to Sheffield had started off.

Matt was a nice guy. He didn’t seem weird. I knew he wasn’t going to pull some crazy shit on me. I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t belong in his apartment. It wasn’t that he didn’t make me feel welcome, I just felt awkward, not knowing him or anything about him besides the fact that he had gauges, tattoos, and was using me as a ploy to help his best friend change. Oh, and he’s a vegetarian, like Oli.

I felt strange sitting on his couch, with my belongings on the floor. I felt weird not having showered for over sixteen hours and I was anxious to find out when I was supposed to go and see Oliver. The question was burning a hole in my throat and had scorched the tip of my tongue, begging to be released.

About five minutes later, Matt brought two plates of still sizzling food and sat them down on the coffee table. He then brought over a glass bottle of beer and handed me a mug of hot cocoa. He set down a fork on my plate and grinned.

“It ain’t gonna bite yeh.”

I laughed softly, “I know, I was just thinking.”

I picked up my fork and stabbed a couple bell peppers onto it, followed by a mushroom, and something that looked either like zucchini or cucumber, shoving it in my mouth.

Matt finished chewing and washed his food down with a swig of beer before talking, “What’re yeh thinkin’ about?”

“Oliver.” I said quietly, almost whispering.

“Are yeh excited to see him?”

“More anxious than excited.”

“Yeah well,” He said, swallowing his food, “I really don’t want teh rain on yeh’re parade, but Olleh’s been ‘orrid lately. If he ain’t drunk, he’s ‘ungover, and then ‘e just gets drunk so his ‘angover goes away.”

I looked down at my plate and swallowed two full bites before I started talking again, “This is all my fault.”

“Yeh know,” Matt sighed, “If I told yeh it wasn’t, I’d be lyin’.”

I looked up at him, feeling the harshness of his words. They weren’t meant to be harsh, but they stabbed me like frozen knives.

“So,” I said, my voice hollow, “He’s really that bad, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘e is.”

“Great,” I sighed, letting my fork hit my plate, and my voice beginning to crack, “I can’t believe I did this to him.”

“Sam, just because I told yeh this was yer fault doesn’t mean I don’t understand where yer comin’ from.” He said quietly.

I looked up at him, the tears barely pricking at my eyes, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is; I understand where yeh’re coming from. If I were yeh, I probably wouldn’t be ‘ere tryin’ teh fix things like yeh are. Olleh shouldn’t ‘ave left without tellin’ yeh, that’s fer sure. But, ‘e did and now the two of yeh ‘ave a chance teh fix it, and it would make meh ’appeh teh see ’im ’appeh.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, “But I wouldn’t have to fix things if I didn’t fuck them up in the first place.”

“Sometimes,” He said, standing up and grabbing my plate, “Yeh ’ave teh fuck somethin’ up so yeh can fix it.”

I didn’t say anything. I only nodded and picked up my mug of hot cocoa and brought it to my lips, sipping it cautiously and playing scenarios of what might happen tomorrow.