Right Now, I'm Anyone's

“Hey, are you awake yet?”

No, was the ultimate answer to that question. I had been deeply, deeply asleep and I really didn’t want to face reality just yet. As long as I was asleep, I could dream, and even if I didn’t it was all okay. In my dreams, I could pretend that I wasn’t the world’s worst girlfriend and biggest slut, and that everything was just the way it should’ve been. In my dreams, I could pretend that Dean had never shown up at Flux over two months ago and helped me rip my life apart at the seams. In my dreams, I couldn’t cry myself to sleep because I was already asleep and nothing was wrong. I left Georgia’s question unanswered and kept my face buried deep in my pillow, feeling sorry for myself.

She let herself into my room anyway, I knew that when I felt the bed shift under her weight as she sat behind my curled knees. I reluctantly opened one eye and noticed the empty bed I was lying in – another thing I could change in my dreams; the fact that I was sleeping on my own until I got back to Leeds. It wasn’t even the whole sleeping alone thing that bothered me, I just missed Levi already, even though he had only gone home three days ago and I would be seeing him soon.

“You’re going to have to get up at some point, Leila,” Georgia said, keeping her voice soft as she brushed my dirty, straggled hair out of my blank, lifeless eyes. “I know it seems like this is the end of the world, but the situation you’re in can be handled in so many ways.”

“Can it really? Because I only see one option here,” I mumbled sarcastically, bringing my knees up to my chest. “I can’t bear to do something that inhumane.”

I felt her shift slightly, before her weight spread out as she lay down on the bed behind me and put her arms around my body comfortingly. I knew she was trying to help me, but human contact was only making me feel that much worse at that point. Even though my body went rigid, she stayed where she was and carried on stroking my arm lightly.

“We don’t even know if its right yet, love,” she mumbled. “I’ll get on that coach home with you, and we’ll go get it checked out as soon as possible, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I will.”

She was only giving me false hope, though, because I knew it was right. It explained almost every little thing that my body had been going through over the past month, and it brought sheer, unguarded terror over me. Georgia stayed to comfort before longer and I couldn’t bring myself to find the energy to tell her that I just wanted to be on my own for another half an hour. When she did leave, I just lay in my bed, my body curled into the foetal position that made me want to laugh and cry at the exact same time. I wrapped my arms around my legs and tried as hard as I could to make myself cry – I hadn’t been able to cry since I found out. I just needed to feel something. So much had changed since the Owens Christmas party, and I just couldn’t understand why.

After Dean and I...finished, when the party was over and our partners had left, I only stayed in his bed with him for about an hour before I couldn’t take it anymore. I had made my decision and I had to stick by it no matter what. I crawled as carefully as I could out of his bed so I wouldn’t disturb him, and pulled the boxers and shirt back on along with my underwear. I went back to Johnny’s room and collected my clothes, which were folded neatly on the chair in the corner. I headed to the bathroom to get dressed.

“Leila? Where are you going? Come back to bed,” Dean mumbled when I went back into his room to put the boxers and shirt somewhere other than the bathroom floor. I bit my lip slightly and stood still in the centre of his room, my shoulders awkwardly rigid and my eyes stinging – I had to tell him, then, because walking out without explaining wasn’t an option.

“No, Dean, I’m going home.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up in his bed and looking me over, taking in that I was dressed. “I’m not trying anything else; I’m tired, I just want to sleep.”

“So, sleep,” I said. “I told you, I-I can’t do this anymore.”

Damn my emotions, making my voice crack like that. He heard it and got out of his bed, pausing to pull on some underwear before he faced me. He came and stood about a foot in front of me, keeping outside of physical contact. He looked at my face while I avoided his eyes, trying to find out for himself what I was talking about. He said, “Look, I know you still feel bad bu-”

“I feel worse than bad,” I said, interrupting him by holding my hand up. “I just...can’t sneak around anymore. I can’t lie anymore and I can’t bear to hurt him or her, for that matter – and I can’t believe that you don’t feel that way too.”

Dean just kept staring at me, his mouth wide open. “If you didn’t want to hurt people, you wouldn’t have slept with me the first time. If I didn’t care about hurting her, I wouldn’t go out of my way to keep this thing with you a secret.”

“The first time was a mistake! We both knew that it shouldn’t have happened!” I hissed.

“Right,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he started to get defensive. “And what about the other – I don’t know – four or five times? Were they mistakes too?”

“Of course they were! Dean, we shouldn’t have ever started all of this,” I said, fighting to keep myself in check. “Why do you care if all this ends now anyway? It was just friends with benefits and you have Zara.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid!” he said, throwing his hands up in the air as he glared at me. “Do you honestly think that if this was friends with benefits still that I’d have carried it on while she was around? You don’t think that if I wanted sex I’d go to my girlfriend, if I all thought of you as was just casual sex? You don’t stop to think for a second that we kept this going because we actually care for each other?!”

“I do care about you, Dean,” I replied. “But not that way.”

“That’s a load of old bullshit, and you know it is,” he said, grabbing hold of my upper arms. “You know this is a hell of a lot more than just friendship with us now.”

“What are you trying to tell me? That’s we’re somehow going back to how we were six fucking years ago?”

“Maybe!” he said. “I don’t even know what I’m saying to you now. You’re being absolutely absurd.”

“I still have some shreds of decency and consideration in me, and if that’s ‘absolutely absurd’ then excuse me.” I wrenched myself out of his grip and took a couple of steps back. “We won’t ever be that way again, Dean, never. Understand that.”

His breathing was heavy, making his shoulders heave. His hands clenched at his sides and you could practically feel the hostility rolling off of his bare chest. “So you’re just going to leave me again? Like last time?”

“No,” I muttered. “This time, I’m telling you goodbye.”

I choked back the large sob that came up from my throat, and tried to dig my head further into my pillow. After I said that to him, he just stood and stared at me for the longest possible time, before walking calmly back to his bed, climbing in and turning his back to me. I knew then that he wouldn’t have listened to another word I said, even if I apologised and said I didn’t mean any of it. I should’ve been happy that he hated me again, that way, it meant my life could maybe get back to normal. But of course, I wasn’t happy, not at all. He’d been right about me caring for him as more than a friend. It was certain, but I was too stubborn to admit it, even to myself.

Saying goodbye to Levi when I got home ten minutes later was nowhere near as hard as saying goodbye to Dean had been – probably because I’d see him again and he didn’t hate me. Levi kissed me on the lips before he got into his car, and I was back inside my dad’s house before he had even reached the corner at the end of the street. I got into my bed and moped around until Georgia got back from Jake’s house around midday.

I spent Christmas Eve with my dad, Stephanie and Georgia. We ate, we laughed and we watching stupid, happy films dedicated to the following day. It was probably one of the best ways to take my mind off of the sore spot somewhere near my heart, that made it feel like there was a thousand tonne weight pressing on me and no way to escape. At around nine that evening, James and Ryan called my phone to wish all of us a Merry Christmas, as they wouldn’t be available until after the holidays. Tom, Chris and Lee were already unavailable, but I made sure that I sent them each a text at midnight.

“Leila?” Georgia said from the landing outside of my bedroom door, stepping on the creaky floorboard just as I was pulling my shirt over my head to get into bed on Christmas Eve. “Can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Sure, come in.” I sat down on my bed in my pyjamas – just a pair of sweatpants and an old white shirt I found in the wardrobe – she walked in and sat down beside me. She looked at me for a couple of moments before she started speaking again. I couldn’t help but notice that she kept one hand in the pocket of her hoody at all times while she was speaking to me.

“Are you alright?” she asked, placing her free hand on my shoulder. “You’ve seemed so down since Levi went home.”

“I-I...I just miss him,” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I lied through my teeth, trying to put her off the scent of what was really getting to me; Dean.

“Well, it’s Christmas, and at Christmas, you do not mope,” she said, waggling her finger at me like I was a child. “If I see one frown tomorrow, I’ll beat you. You’ll see him on the twenty-seventh anyway! And then you don’t have to miss him.”

“I know,” I laughed, knocking her hand away from my face playfully. “I promise to be all cheery tomorrow.”

She chuckled lightly and we sat together in silence for a while. I kept my eyes focussed on the wall across from where we sat, just in case something on my face gave me away like it always did. I felt her start to fidget next to me – she was contemplating something, I know she was. I glanced at her and saw her staring down at her socked feet in deep thought, chewing her bottom lip. I waved my hand in front of her face to break her out of her own mind.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think so”-she stopped for a moment to turn and look at me-“I mean, I hope so. I kind of have an early Christmas present for you.”

I smiled broadly. “What is it?”

“Well,” she said, inhaling deeply before she continued. “I’m not too sure how you’ll take it, but don’t kill me, okay?”

I furrowed my brow at her. “Okay...”

The hand that had stayed in her hoody pocket emerged, and it was holding a rectangular box, coloured in different shades of blue. I felt all of the blood drain from my face when I read the recognisable brand name ‘Clearblue’ at the top left hand corner of the cardboard box. Was she being totally serious? I lifted my head up from the box she had placed in my hands to give her a look.

“Have you gone totally mental?” I asked bluntly. “Why would you get me a pregnancy test as an early Christmas present.”

“Just to set me own mind at ease, Leila,” she said, giving me a quick apologetic look. “You’ve been showing all the common symptoms of it and it just got me thinking.”

“Why symptoms?” I laughed, trying to keep my voice light, rather than tight like it wanted to be.

“You’ve been vomiting almost every day give or take, you can’t stand the smell or taste of tea when you drank it like water a few weeks ago,” she said, counting the points she was making off on her fingers. “You’ve been having these god awful mood swings lately and – don’t get all pissy with me – but you look more...rounded, than usual.”

“I’ve caught a bug or something,” I said, waving her off. “People gain weight around Christmas time and I’m a girl, that’s why I keep getting mood swings.”

“Leila, I’m almost sure you haven’t caught anything,” she said, chewing on her lip again. “Even if its just me being paranoid, I’ve noticed that you haven’t touched your tampons since like, the end of October or something.”

It felt like somebody had thrown a bucket full of ice cold water over my head then. She was right; my period still hadn’t come, and it was far too late to be normal, even for a vegetarian. Being a vegetarian does mess up your menstrual cycle, but not for that long. I wanted to argue some more, try to convince both of us that pregnancy was definitely not a possibility. Levi and I had always used protection whenever we had sex, and so had me and Dean. My heart sunk when I realised that second statement wasn’t entirely true; there was one time when we didn’t.

“Just please do it, for me,” Georgia begged. “If you are, I’ll come to the doctor with you as soon as we get home and find out what your options are.”

I didn’t say another word to her. I just tightened my hand around the box and felt the offensive little device rattled on the inside of it. I stood up off of the bed and felt my heart begin to pound violently in my chest. The word ‘pregnant’ just swirled around and around in my head until I was only just vaguely aware of Georgia following me to the bathroom. She waited outside while I went in.

I leaned back against the closed door and looked down at the box in my hands, hoping against hope itself that it didn’t confirm Georgia’s speculation and my fear. I took it out of its packaging, sat down on the toilet and took a huge breath, before doing what had to be done. When I was done, I placed the test on the edge of the sink and walked to the door to let Georgia know it was okay to come in.

“Are you...?”

I shook my head. “It isn’t done yet. I don’t know.”

We waited in silence for the next three minutes – it felt like three hours – and Georgia kept looking at me while all I could do was stare at the developing pregnancy test sitting on the sink. What would I do if I was pregnant? I’d always been firmly against abortion, so that definitely wasn’t an option for me. I was petrified at the thought of it; giving birth, raising a baby, the whole shebang. I saw my young life pass before my eyes, and abruptly stop with a possible baby. That would it; my life over.

“I think it’ll be done now,” Georgia said, breaking my attention away from the test and back onto her. “Do you want to look first, or shall I?”

“Could you do it, please?” I asked, my voice wavering.

“Alright,” she said, nodding her head as she took the three long strides across the bathroom over to the sink. My eyes bored into her back as she lifted the test up off of the sink and inspected it for a couple of minutes. They way her shoulders visibly slumped and she sucked in a gasp of shock told me that it was positive. I felt my eyes stinging violently, before she had even turned around. When she did, tears were running down my face and I was doing everything I could to hold myself upright.

“How far?” I asked, after taking a look at her face; her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide.

“Leila,” she said, the shock still evident in her voice as she looked between me and the test. “I’m so sorry; I never thought it’d be...like that.”

“How far?”

She looked at me for a couple of minutes before looking back down at the test. “It says seven to eight weeks honey.”

My effort left me then and I collapsed back against the door, slumping down onto the floor in a heap as my tears came more consistently. Hysterical sobs built up in my chest and forced their way out through my mouth. In less than a second, Georgia was sitting on the tiled floor beside me with her arms wrapped right around my body, the pregnancy test lying somewhere on the ground beside her. I grasped onto any part of her that I could reach and cried, soaking her shirt right through. She murmured things in my ear and stroked my back, trying to comfort me by saying that everything would work out in the end.

It wouldn’t though, would it? I was pregnant at twenty-two years old with my whole life ahead of me. The baby hadn’t been planned, or wanted at the time, which I thought was wrong; a baby was a big thing, and it required at least a little bit of thought. I could barely find it in me to put on my brave face for Stephanie and my dad the next day; I was still so shocked about the test being positive. Needless to say, I didn’t tell either of them about it.

Mark had suggested after dinner that we all watch The Grinch together for a laugh, but I told him that I felt really ill and went to bed while everybody else enjoyed what was left of Christmas.

And that brings me to where we started off. At twelve in the afternoon on Boxing Day, I was alone in my bed, suffocating myself with my emotions and unable to drag myself out of bed and carry on with my life. Georgia kept coming to see me and tried to cheer me up, and it worked every now and then, until I remembered that there was something growing inside my stomach.

I shuddered and pressed my hands hard against my stomach, closing my eyes as I tried to escape into my dream world again.

*****

“Please wait while I slowly untie my tongue tonight. I pray by some feeble attempt my words will tell you what my heart has to say. Because you’ve always been right bes-”

“Hello?” I croaked, holding my phone weakly to my ear. My mind was always so hazy whenever I woke up. I had no idea what time it was but I knew it was far too late for anybody to be calling me; the sky outside my window was still pitch black.

“Leila, that you?” the person on the other end of the phone slurred, their voice interrupted by the harsh gale that was blowing. I blinked a couple of times as my eyes tried to assimilate to the darkness, but gave up and sat up in bed to flip on the bedside lamp.

“Who’s this?” I asked. I could hardly hear them over that stupid wind, so I couldn’t tell who’s voice it was.

“I-It’s Dean,” they slurred again, hiccoughing afterwards and sniffing.

“Why are you calling me so late, Dean?”

“Because I’m pissed off and I’m completely fucking hammered and I really missed you”-at least one out of those three was quite lovely-“and I really need your help, too.”

“What could I possibly do to help you, Dean, since I’ve pissed you off so much?” I asked spitefully – my meaner side came out when I was tired. Especially when someone that I wasn’t particularly happy with called me in the middle of the night.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Just the basics, why?”

“I told you! I’m completely fucking hammered,” he slurred, putting emphasis on each of the words he spoke. “I need somebody to pick me up and take me back home.”

“What about this thing called a taxi? Or – hey! – your brother?”

“I’ve got no money.” He sounded like he was about to just fall asleep at any moment. “And Johnny doesn’t know how to drive yet and he’ll be asleep.”

I just rolled my eyes. “If I had a car to pick you up in I’d help, but I don’t have one.”

“Borrow your dads!” he begged, each of his words crashing into the last one. “Please, Leila. It’s so fucking cold and it’s too far to walk home. I might die or something.”

I ignored the slight smile that appeared on my lips and sighed in exasperation instead. “Fine, where are you then?”

I listened carefully as he slurred directions down the phone to me. I understood where he was, and kind of remembered the way because I had only been there the week before; Costa on Charring Cross Road. When I had managed to hear his full garbled directions and retain them, I muttered about how he better be grateful. He just told me to fuck off before he hung up – charming. I checked the time on my phone before I got up – 2:30AM – and groaned.

Instead of changing out of my sweatpants and vest top, I got out of bed and searched around on the floor for the maroon Four Year Strong hooded sweater – Johnny had kindly given it to me for Christmas – that I knew was down there. I tied my hair up onto a messy bun, feeling some strands fall out at the front, before leaving my room to make my way along the landing towards my dad’s bedroom. I noticed that a little bit of light was seeping through the crack under the door, so I tapped on it lightly and heard him tell me to come inside moments later.

“Is everything okay?” he whispered, breaking his eyes away from the book he had under his nose to shoot me a glance. Stephanie was fast asleep on her side of the bed; her back was to me as she curled her body towards my dad.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving off the concern in his voice and letting my annoyance seep into my tone. “I know it’s really late, but can I borrow your car? Dean just rang me and told me he’s stuck somewhere and has no money to get a taxi.”

“What about Charles?”

“He doesn’t want to wake him up.”

“So, waking you up is perfectly fine?” Mark said, raising his eyebrows as he shook his head. “Sure, borrow the car. As long as you can drive automatics and you take care; the roads are icy tonight, Leila.”

“Thanks, Dad. I promise I’ll be careful,” I said, sighing before leaving his room and letting the door click shut behind me. I’d half-hoped he’d refuse me the loan of his car so that I could call Dean and tell him I had no way of getting to him – I never realised how nasty that sounded until now. I stepped carefully on the stairs, so I didn’t wake Steph or Georgia up, and found my dad’s car keys hanging on a hook near the front door. Dean was totally right, though; it was freezing. Far too cold to sit around on the street drinking yourself stupid, to be precise.

I shivered as I ran across the ice slicked lawn to the car, almost slipping several times since I’d only thought to throw on a pair of flats rather than something with more grip. I started the car and sat while it heated up, running briefly over the driving lessons I had taken when I turned eighteen. Oh sweet Jesus, help me.

As I was driving, I tried my hardest to remember the route Dean had taken the previous week as he drove me home. I did remember most of the way, it was just different then because it was the middle of the night, as opposed to the middle of the afternoon. The drive didn’t take me too long, though. Not long enough to make Dean freeze to death wherever the hell he was.

I kept driving along the empty tarmac of Charring Cross Road, until I noticed the familiar logo marking Costa Coffee. I stopped outside of their and put the car into park, leaning this way and that so that I could look through the glass to see if I could spot Dean anywhere on the empty street. When my attempts were proven to fail, I stuck my hand into the pocket of my sweatpants and grabbed my phone, dialling the first number on my received calls list and pressing the phone to my ear, my teeth chattering.

“’E-ello?” Dean answered after the seventh ring, his voice still slurred and his teeth chattering violently against the cold.

“Where about are you by Costa? I can’t see you anywhere,” I said, leaning over the passenger’s side again so that I could peer out of the window a second time. I couldn’t see any movement or sign of live out on the dimly lit street, and I swore to myself that there’d be hell to pay if he made me get out of the car and hunt around for him for hours. Even more so if he’d given me the wrong directions.

“I’m down the s-s-s-side street, on the right of the front of Costa...I think,” he said, the wind blowing angrily against the speaker of his phone. “Please, hurry up, Leila, I’m freezing my arse off.”

“Shouldn’t have gone out to get drunk then, twat,” I said, before hanging up my phone and shoving it back into the pocket of my sweats. I took the car keys out of the ignition and reluctantly climbed out of my dad’s car, locking it behind me and fighting a shiver against the bitter cold. I exhaled irritably, my breath rising up in front of me in a cloud, and stood on the pavement for a moment or two, inspecting the dark shop front. It was barely noticeable, but it was definitely there; a small alley to the right of Costa, just wide enough for one person to walk into. I took a deep breath and stepped inside, ignoring my pounding heart as I listened intently.

“Dean?” I hissed into the darkness, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for any potential perverts slash rapists that could’ve been lingering. The alley remained totally silent for a couple of minutes longer and I tried to squint through the darkness – the light from the street lamps didn’t reach here – so that I could try and see him. I was far too scared to step any further into the alley, just in case he had been wrong about his whereabouts and there was something more sinister waiting for me in there – e.g. previously mentioned perverts slash rapists.

There was a massive crashing sound as two metal objects roughly collided with one another, and I screamed loudly and practically leapt back onto the open street, where the light was. I heard a couple of footsteps and told myself that maybe it might’ve been time to leave, but I was too scared to move again. A shadow stepped into the mouth of the alley and I felt another scream building up of its own accord.

“Quiet!” Dean whisper-shouted at me, leaning against one of the walls on either side of him heavily to regain his balance. “I-It’s only m-me.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean!” I said, my hand planted firmly on my chest as I took a couple hundred deep breaths to try and make my heart go back to its normal rate. “You scared me half to death!”

I heard a light thud as he stumbled, but caught himself on the brick wall he had been leaning against moments ago. I waited over by the car for him to come over – there was no way in hell I was going anywhere near that alley after being that scared. Five minutes or so later, he was halfway to me – I’m not exaggerating, he kept stumbled and having to re-assess where to put his feet.

All the antagonism that I felt towards him earlier disappeared when he stepped directly under the street lamp. It lit up his face, showing me what a mess it was – what a mess he was. His hair was mussed up all over, like he’d given pulling it out at the roots a really good go. His button down checked shirt was dishevelled underneath an unzipped thin black hoody. His lower lip was split on the left side and looked a little bit swollen.

“Oh, Dean,” I said softly, moving to stand in front of him and hold his face gently in between my hands. “What happened to you?”

He ignored my question and tried to pull his face away from me. My hands remained firmly on his cold cheeks as I inspected his face. I shifted his black hair up, away from his forehead and saw that there was a nasty bruise forming just over his right eyebrow. He pulled his head away again and kept his eyes cast down onto the floor, refusing to look at me. Fine, if he was going to be immature, two could play at that one.

I just turned my back on him and walked to the car, unlocking it and holding the passenger door open for him. I sighed and said, “How did you even manage to find somewhere to get drunk on Boxing Day?”

I didn’t think I’d get an answer, so I didn’t wait for one. I turned to walk to the drivers side of the car, but stopped when I heard a slight sloshing sound. I looked over my shoulder at Dean and saw him fiddling with the lid of a litre bottle of some non-descript shops-own vodka. He lifted the bottle and went to take another drink of what was left in there – less than a quarter.

I grabbed hold of the base of the bottle before he could put it to his lips and moved it away. “Dean, please don’t, you’ve had more than enough.”

“I’m old enough, you aren’t my mother,” he muttered darkly. “You made it clear on Tuesday that you aren’t anything to me.”

I just rolled my eyes – so was not in the mood to try and get along with Dean when he was being moody. “Yeah, okay, whatever. You want my help, right? Right, so cut the shit, stop being a prick and don’t take another drink – no, another sip of that – or I won’t help you at all.”

“Sure,” he smirked, about to raise the bottle again. “You wouldn’t leave me here all night.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re working my last fucking nerve; so why don’t you drink that and find out, yeah?”

He looked at me for ages, swaying between left and right. The ‘I want to kill you’ glare I was giving him seemed to work, though, because he lowered the bottle. He glared back at me and threw the glass bottle as hard as he could against the brick wall a couple of feet from where he stood, making it shatter into hundreds of people. When it broke, I jumped, before exhaling another angry breath. I said, “Just get in the car and don’t say another word.”

Oddly enough, he did what I said and kept quiet the whole way home. I drove carefully through the streets, not skidding on any of the black ice once. He stared sulkily out of the window, which just made me grip onto the steering wheel until my knuckles went why. Even though he was being a brat, it still hurt a little bit that he hadn’t let me touch him earlier, and that he was being so horrible to me. It probably only hurt because I hadn’t expected to see him ever again after what happened. I pulled up outside of his house and he just stayed where he was, staring at it.

“Going to get out or not?” I asked. My exhaustion was starting to creep back into my system and I was getting ratty again. I rested my head down on the steering wheel, shutting my eyes as my head pounded with a coming headache. I heard him huff and unclasp his seatbelt with a quiet click.

“I haven’t got my house keys on me,” he said after a moment of clumsily patting his pockets down.

“So, knock.”

He shrugged. “I can’t. My dad will murder me, or nobody will answer and I’ll be stuck outside til morning.”

I just groaned loudly and leaned heavily into my seat again, closing my eyes. “Well, you can’t sleep in my dad’s car, I’m afraid.”

“How about your dad’s couch? That seems a fair compromise.”

I just turned my head to give him an incredulous look; did he think he could act like a complete arsehole to me and then expect me to be okay with him sleeping under the same roof as me? He just stared straight back at me, freezing the look before it even got to my face. There was a slight hint of apology somewhere in his eyes, but his face just stayed blank and careless. We sat and tried to stare each other out; both of us waiting for the other to cave in.

“Fine, come on,” I said, breaking eye contact first as I turned to climb out of the car and slam the door shut behind me. I walked around to the passenger side, where Dean was using the roof of the car to support himself. I slammed his door shut and locked the car, before letting him put his arm across my shoulders so that I could help him walk up to the house. I almost collapsed when his full weight fell on my shoulders; he was either being a twat and purposefully acting like a sack of potatoes, or drinking almost a litre of vodka had gotten him really wasted. Probably both.

Once we had gotten inside, I leaned him against the wall near the door and hung the keys up on the hook, before turning to look at his face again, taking mental notes of his injuries. There wasn’t anything I could do about the bruise, but the almost completely scabbed over cut on his lip looked sore and probably needed cleaning out properly. I sighed and helped him into the living room, letting him drop from my shoulder and collapse onto the couch with his eyes shut, while I ran upstairs into the bathroom to collect the first aid kit that Stephanie kept there for emergencies – never been used, of course.

“Dean, come on, wake up,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice soft as I nudged him over to make some space for myself. “Sit up, I’m going to have to clean that cut before it gets infected.”

He just grunted and complied – kind of – by slumping back against the couch, sitting upright with his head lolling over the back of the headrest. I had to kneel beside him and push all of his hair away so that I had a better look at his face. I wiped the cut on his lip to get rid of the dried blood and felt him flinch when I cleaned it gently with an antiseptic wipe. He cracked his eyes open and looked at me, making me feel uncomfortable.

I felt the weight of his hand on my calf as I kneeled beside him on the couch; felt the way he clumsily squeezed the muscle in an attempted massage or something. I half-smiled at him and moved so that his hand slipped off of me, before leaning over to put everything back into the first aid kit – minus the used wipes etcetera.

“Why did you even get so drunk, Dean?” I asked when the box was sat on the coffee table. I kneeled beside him again so that I could look at him. He just shrugged noncommittally and opened his eyes properly, looking me straight in the face. It felt alright to look back – because he was still insanely drunk – and I noticed how dilated his pupils were; he needed to go to sleep. He raised one of his hands to cup my cheek lightly, and I couldn’t help but lean into it. When he lifted his head up off of the couch and slowly brought his face closer to mine, I moved away and cleared my throat lightly. He huffed and went back to glaring at the ceiling. I said, “Are you going to answer my question?”

He just shrugged again. “Because I was angry, because people are angry with me right now and I don’t know how to fix anything.”

“Right,” I said, choosing to address those reasons later. “How did your face end up looking like this?”

“Looking like what?” he said, absently raising his hand to touch his cheek.

I just raised my eyebrows. “You’re getting a massive bruise on your forehead and you’ve split your bottom lip.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that,” he said as he leaned forward to put his face in his hands, rubbing it roughly with his palms. “I’m not even sure I know where the bruise is from; I can’t remember doing that. I think Jake probably did this”-he pointed at his mouth-“all for a good reason, of course.”

“What the hell? What reason would he have for hitting you?”

“It’s a really long, stupid story,” he said, groaning from his hands. “And if I tell it to you, you’re going to hate me too – well, more than you must already. I don’t want anybody else hating for something ridiculous that happened ages ago.”

Hearing the hopelessness in his voice almost broke me completely. I bit my lip lightly and watched him; the curve of his back as he arched forward, the way his fingers were half-combed into his hair as he smothering his face with his hands. His body seemed like it was collapsing in on itself. Hesitantly, I reached my hand out and placed it on his shoulder, making him jump slightly.

“You don’t honestly think I hate you, do you?” I asked, hearing my voice shake. He stayed still and silent for a couple of minutes before he turned his head to take a look at me. He just nodded after a couple of minutes before pushing his fingers through his hair again. I let my hand slide across his shoulder blades and used my other one to pull his shoulders up, straightening out his back as I yanked him into my body and hugged him tight.

“You’re a twat sometimes, but I don’t hate you,” I said, feeling his arms wrap around my waist lightly. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I think you need to get some sleep. Doesn’t sound like today was so good for you.”

“Thanks, Leila,” he mumbled into my shoulder, before I pulled away. I nodded my head and stood up off of the couch, first walking towards the airing cupboard to collect a blanket and pillow for Dean, before retreating up into my bedroom. I took off the Four Year Strong hoody and flung it back onto the floor as I collapsed face down onto my bed with a huge sigh. I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was almost four in the morning. I just wasn’t tired anymore, though.

I lay awake, running through each and every little thing that had happened since I got to London over a week ago. I pressed my hands hard against my stomach for the second time, feeling where the flesh got slightly harder. I closed my eyes as I slipped my hands under my vest and tried to feel the small bump under my skin. There was no doubt that it was there, just not noticeable to the eye, I suppose. What was I going to do when I got home? I’d have to tell people, wouldn’t I? Surely, they’d started noticing and obviously they’d just assume that it belonged to Levi – why the hell wouldn’t they, though? They don’t know I’ve been sleeping with somebody else.

I, myself, wasn’t sure at all who the baby would belong to. I knew that Levi was going to be ecstatic that I was pregnant, but whenever I tried to imagine a little baby that looked like him, I couldn’t do it. He’d be under the impression that it was his child and support me, of course, but what if it wasn’t? What if it wasn’t his and he found out? What if he bounded with the baby and it turned out to be another mans? I hadn’t realised the extent of my deception – now that there was another human being in the mix, it made everything seem so much more...cruel.

But, if I had an abortion, neither of them would ever have to know I was pregnant and one of them was the father. If I had an abortion I legally didn’t have to tell the father – whoever it was, and I hoped it was Levi with all my heart – about any of it. I shuddered, though, and realised I could never do anything like that. At whatever stage in a pregnancy, a baby is a baby, and I couldn’t kill a baby.

I ran my hang over my stomach again and, behind my closed eyes, I tried again to see a baby that could’ve been fathered by Levi. I tried to see his pale skin and green eyes and slightly off-centre nose, but it didn’t work. The baby I kept seeing was small, but chubby with pale, yet toffee tinted skin and these beautiful, big blue eyes. It had my black curls and my small nose. Tears pricked at my eyes and destroyed the image. I quickly removed my hands from my stomach, like I’d been burned by something, and pushed them onto my face as I rolled onto my side and cried. I pulled my legs back up against my chest and wrapped my arms around them, feeling the sobs shake my entire body as I sunk further into a feeling of total hopelessness.

The loose floorboard outside of my bedroom door creaked quietly as somebody stepped onto it. I quickly swiped my hands under both eyes to get rid of the moisture that had gathered there. I looked over my shoulder as I stretched my legs out again, watching as the door opened and Dean stepped slowly into my room. He stared at me for a while with his head tilted to the side after he had closed the door; I just turned my head back to face the same way as my body and tried desperately to stop my eyes from watering.

“What’s the matter?” he whispered. I felt my bed dip under his weight, before it distributed evenly as he lay down behind me, propping his torso up on one of his elbows so he could look over my shoulder at my face. I just ignored him and jerked my elbow so his hand would fall off. But nothing could deter him, of course, not even a little bit. He put his hand on my waist and kissed the nap of my neck softly. I could just lie there and ignore the only form of comfort I was getting; it hurt too much. I rolled over onto my other side and let him wrap both of his arms around me, cradling my head lightly into his chest as I felt new tears coming.

“What’s the matter?” he repeated, his voice low and soft as he stroked my bare arm with his fingertips. “Why were you crying baby?”

“Everything’s just so...fucked up,” I said, ignoring the ‘baby’ and letting my tears fall onto his shirt. “I don’t know what I can do to fix anything anymore. My life’s destroyed and I just keep pissing off the people I care about.

He shushed me gently, moving his hand to stroke my face lightly after he tilted it up to make me look at him before whispering to me. “I don’t think anybody’s pissed off at you, Leila. You’re an amazing friend and you don’t understand how much you mean to all of us. How much you mean to me.”

“No,” I sobbed pathetically, shaking my head as I looked him in the eye. “I’ve kept all these horrible secrets from my friends, I’ve lied to them. And you...y-you’ve got more reason than most to hate me.”

“Leila, I could never, not for anything, hate you,” he sighed, tugging lightly at the elastic in my hair to free it so he could run his fingers soothingly through it. “You really don’t know what you mean if you think that.”

“But, I-I made you so angry, enough to go out and get yourself in a state,” I spoke again, trying to stop my voice from shaking and cracking. “I said that I wanted somebody else instead of you.”

“Somebody else who’s a total fucking wank, by the way,” he said, chuckling lightly to try and cheer me up – it didn’t work. “I didn’t drink a litre or vodka or get angry just because you wouldn’t sleep with me anymore. That’s nowhere near the real reason for it.”

“Then what was the real reason?”

He faltered for a moment then. His hands stopped moving through my hair and I could feel him holding his breath. His face was composed, but his eyes looked tight as they focussed on the picture of the girl that was painted on the opposite wall to us. I dug my chin lightly into his chest to get his attention back and raised my eyebrows at him.

“If you do one thing for me,” he said. “Just one thing, I’ll tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Kiss me.”

I looked at him for a moment longer. His eyes pleaded with mine and I knew I wanted to do it as much as he wanted me to. I lifted myself up out of his hands and took his face between my hands, leaning down to press a slow kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around me and hoisted me up so I lay on top of him. I felt my head go cloudy when he kissed me and it felt...well, euphoric. But the kiss was just that; just that gentle, slow kiss. No tongue, no awkward grabbing and clawing at clothes. Just a kiss.

“T-There are two reasons, really,” he started, keeping his arms tight around my waist while mine where under his shoulders. “The first reason was because Jake’s not exactly my best friend right now, and I don’t think Zara’s going to be speaking to me much after tonight either”- he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself again-“I doubt Georgia’s going to be a big fan of mine after Jake tells her too”-he took another pause and closed his eyes-“the second reason is you.”

I raised my eyebrows; I already knew that second part. I didn’t speak up, though. I just gave him a strange look; why would Jake not be speaking to him and hit him? Why would his girlfriend stop speaking to him over something that’s between him and Jake? Because she’s his family? Because whatever happened with Jake affects her too? I didn’t know. I just kept my mouth shut and let him carry on.

“It isn’t you because you wanted to break the physical thing off with you; I’m really not trying to make you feel bad, not at all,” he continued, looping his hands together on my back as his eyes re-opened. “The second reason was you, because quite frankly, I just don’t know what to do.”

I waited, before speaking up in a whisper. “What do you mean, Dean?”

I tensed up somewhere during the silence between us; he felt it and started stroking my back again. But his arms were tight around me and his chest underneath me felt harder than usual, so I knew he felt the tension too. He shut his eyes again and a look of slight pain flashed across his face for a moment, before his beautiful blue eyes opened up again and he looked at me. I kept my eyes on him and tried to ignore the slight discomfort his hip digging into my little bump caused.

“Leila,” he sighed my name, bring his hand up to stroke my cheek lightly. “I know this thing started out as just friendship with some benefits or whatever stupid fucking thing I said. But I wake up every morning just thinking of you, and I feel like shit when I realise I’m not waking up to you. And then I feel worse because sometimes I wish Zara was you.”

I just stared at him. I’d lost my voice and I couldn’t actually make my mind drive over that little speed bump. He cupped my cheek in his hand and continued through my silence. “Being around you again and seeing how well you’re doing with everything and how much you’ve changed, even though you’re still the same Leila I knew six years ago”-he stopped again, chewing his lip nervously-“you’re still my Leila. Seeing you so often and getting to know you and feel you again, it’s made me love you all over.”

“D-Dean,” I said, once I had found my voice again. “You’ve had too much to drink and it’s late, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“No!” he said, taking hold of my chin gently as I tried to turn my face away from his. “I do know what I’m saying Leila.”

I looked at him and saw that his eyes were bloodshot, more so than earlier on, and his pupils were nothing more than pin-pricks in the iris. He was still slurring and stumbling over his words and his hands fumbled whenever he tried to do something fiddly. He carried when once he was certain that he had my attention. “I know what I’m saying, and I’m saying that I love you, Leila. I don’t know how, or why or when it came up again, but I do. That’s the simple truth.”

Before I could retaliate, he pulled my face close to his again and started pushing his lips desperately against mine, cupping both of my cheeks with his hands. My eyes prickled and I pulled my face away, taking the advantage of his absent arms to slide off of him and stand at the bed side. “I think you should go, Dean.”

He didn’t try anything to get me to look at him again, but he didn’t make any move to leave either. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye as I kept my head down, and saw him looking me up and down, his face etched all over with sadness. I walked over to my bedroom door and pulled it open, standing with my hand on the handle, my head down. I heard my bed creak slightly as he stood up.

“Leila-”

“Please, Dean,” I interrupted, my voice empty. “Just go. You can sleep on the couch, but as soon as you wake up tomorrow, go home.”

“Shouldn’t we at least talk about this?” he asked, putting his hands on my shoulders and shaking me lightly. “I just told you I loved you, you cannot tell me you don’t feel anything towards me too.”

“No, Dean,” I lied. “I don’t.”

It wasn’t convincing enough for him. “Leila, please, let’s just talk ab-”

“No,” I said, my tone clipped. “We’ve talked too much I think.”

I felt a massive case of déjà vu as I told him to leave that room for the second time in my life. He took his hands away from my shoulders and brushed my cheek with his right index finger, tilting my head upwards. I just did what he always told me I did when I lied and looked somewhere above his ear – hopefully he’d be too drunk to remember it. He sighed after a couple of minutes and let his own eyes drop to the floor as his hand fell to his side again.

“I understand if you do hate me now, for telling you,” he said, glancing at me through his eyelashes as he took a few steps towards the landing. “But I had to tell you at some point; I couldn’t lie to myself, and I couldn’t lie to you.”

“I already told you,” I answered, my voice finally cracking as I looked out of my bedroom door, away from him. “I just can’t do this anymore; please, go.”