Cowardice

"Yes, I'm eating enough, Mum." Chelsea lets out a fond sigh, doing her usual 'taking a call' wander around the house, "I’m getting enough sleep and exercise. Any more inane questions to ask?"

"There's no need to be snappy, Chels. I worry."

"Unnecessarily. You're acting like I've just moved to Uni or something. It's not like I've gone abroad to drink myself into a sloppy mess. I'm a grown up."

"It feels like your thousands of miles away, darling. Are you sure you won't come home? Your room is all ready for you."

"I'm positive. It's nice here, honestly. I'm gonna go see about starting to walk some of these famous fells. Might make a hiker out of me yet."

"That hasn't done anything to ease my mind, Chelsea!" Her Mother scolds, sounding exhausted already with the catch-up phone call, "People get lost or fall and can't find help. People die going hiking up there.

"I'm hardly going to be scaling rock faces. Just seems a waste to be here and not see the scenery, don't you think?"

"I'm going to change the subject before you drive me crazy with nerves. Have you made any friends in the village? Your Gran says everyone is very friendly."

"They're really lovely but I can see why Nan enjoys herself down here so much. Someone hosts card games and bingo every night, or at least that's the impression they've given me. I've lost count the amount of times the lady in the local shop has asked me to join them."

"There's surely someone more your age, darling."

"Only people passing through. Seen the odd group of students on their holidays." Chelsea spots Louis then, apparently returning from the village with another plastic bag of shopping swinging from his hands, habitual cigarette tightly held between his lips, "Well, actually, there's a guy who's renting next door who can't be much older than me."

"And now I'm back to be worried. Is he quiet? Have you met? I hope he doesn't cause any trouble."

"Yeah, he's not caused any problems yet. He's from somewhere in Yorkshire, I think. Very strong accent. He's called Lewis, or something. " Chelsea won't bring up the fact that he's a one quarter of the world's biggest boyband, not because she respects Louis' wishes on keeping his whereabouts quiet, but because her Mum wouldn't have a clue who she was talking about.

"Maybe make an effort, Chelsea. He could be a nice boy."

"Don't think now is the right time to be meeting 'nice boys', Mum. That's what got me into this mess."

+++

Summer in the Lake District is something to experience at least once in life, Chelsea discovers.

It's not the balmy, humid warmth of a summer spent in the midst of a bustling city, or the unrelenting heat of being abroad. It's almost gentle, a constant breeze seeming to cool the skin before it becomes unbearable, the sun sitting in the sky seemingly all day, something which Chelsea takes advantage of.

She'd pulled a slightly dusty deck chair from the shed at the end of the garden and dragged the coffee table outside to join it, setting up a nice little base to spend most of her days in, books bought especially for the extended stay scattered on top of the surface, with numerous bottles of water to keep her hydrated. The gentle acoustic playlists she discovers only set to make the whole space that bit better.

Chelsea's so engaged in her book; a thriller she'd found set in a made-up village very similar to Skelwith Bridge in location, where-in a serial killer stalks the remote and winter-stricken community, that when Louis exits the back door to his house and starts up yet another cigarette, she doesn't notice. Nor does she seem to realise he's there when he spots her and comes over to lean on the fence that separates them.

"I was, uh, wondering what internet supplier you've got?"

Chelsea almost jumps straight from the chair when his voice suddenly over powers her music, her hand reaching straight for her racing heart as she gasps, "The fuck, dude?"

Louis honestly looks like he wants to burst out laughing, lips pressed tightly together, little bursts of air escaping his nose in almost snorts, eyes crinkled up at the sides as he fails to suppress a smile, "Sorry. I didn't know you hadn't seen me."

"Jesus. H. Christ. I can't breathe."

"Bit dramatic that. M'not scary at all."

"Did you want something? Insult me again?"

"The name of your internet provider. I still can't seem to get anyone to come this far out. Seems like Skelwith isn't on many people's maps."

"TalkTalk. They gave me like a week window when they might be here but I had the same issue with finding someone to actually take me seriously."

"Thank you. Am I ok to keep using yours 'til then? S'my only way to contact anyone else."

"Can't exactly take it back from you, can I?" There's something about Louis that makes her responses that smidgen more bitey, and she shakes her head at herself, "Yeah, yeah course you can."

"These favours just keep adding up, huh? Gonna have to start making a list."

"Don't keep frightening me half to death and I'll forgive them all."

"Oh, come off it - I only asked you a bloody question."

"You sat like a serial killer in your car for ages the night you got here. In the pitch black. God knows how long you've been stood there."

Louis raises an eyebrow in retaliation, "I wasn't plotting your damn murder."

"I didn't know that."

"And you call me distrustful."

"Did you need something else?" This time the cocky edge to her voice is entirely intentional. Chelsea can see Louis' blue eyes roll up into his head as he shakes it, a little tut noise leaving his mouth before he drifts back over to his house and shuts himself back inside, "Prick."

+++

"I told you I don't give a shit!" Chelsea feels guilty as she hears Louis voice booming from next door. She's not actively trying to listen in on his call, but what had started out as a distant murmur through wall was now very clearly Louis having an apparently frustrating argument, "No! I'm not bloody telling you where I am - you don't need to know."

"You can't tell me what to do anymore, you get that? You're not even supposed to have my number."

"Oh mate, just fuck off before I sue."

It goes eerily quiet again, and Chelsea wonders briefly if she's about to hear the smashing of furniture or glass but there's only the slight slam of a door and Chelsea instinctively knows that Louis has stepped outside to smoke again.

Chelsea's avoided her own irate phone calls, let them ring out and watched the voicemails pile up, or in the case of most of them, slept through the vibrations. One in the morning wasn't a time she found herself awake anymore so the caller never had much luck. Yet, Chelsea couldn't get herself to block the number.

It seemed the both of them had at least one thing in common. The inability to cut people out of their lives.