Hard Feelings

It’s been a week since he and Elaine talked properly. He doesn’t want to allow his mind to go there, but Dylan can’t help but think she’s avoiding him. They’ve been together for so long; there isn’t a single thing they don’t know about one another and when she gets like this - pretending everything’s fine while hiding a mountain of things from him - it bothers Dylan. He’s always more than eager to tell her everything, so why can’t she do the same? 

tired talk tomorrow 

Five whole days later, she finally texts him. A wave of relief washes over him. Elaine’s okay. Finals are coming up so she must be incredibly worn out and overstressed. That must be it. It has to be it. She always gets like this during this period of time and now Dylan is scolding himself for letting one of her most notable characteristics; the thing he fucking loves about her entirely slip his mind. The perfectionist in her will allow Elaine to achieve anything else but the best and he’s supposed to understand because not so secretly, he’s exactly the same. 

Dylan stares at the text message for what feels like ages, wondering whether to reply and if he does, what to reply with. He should; he most definitely should and he does, but the lackluster ok i love u that appears on his screen is nowhere near as close as the things he wants to tell her. 

He wants to tell her just how much he misses her. How ever since she left, there’s been this void in his chest and how he has no fucking idea how to fill it. He wants to tell her about how every day he wakes up scared because he can’t shake the feeling that the distance between them doesn’t seem to range only in miles but also in feelings. 

 A part of him wants to abandon all of his responsibilities, buy a ticket and take the night train to Paris just to see her. He doesn’t care if they only have a couple of hours before she needs to wake and attend her classes or internship or whatever’s keeping her busy at all hours of the day. Hell - he’ll even settle down for a single minute. He’s that desperate for her touch, smell, lips… 

He wants them to talk. Have long and never ending conversations instead of this short awkward thing they do in their video chats. It’s painful - watching her gorgeous face from afar and confusing it for a stranger’s. Yes, oftentimes she’s smiling at him - her wicked grin never wavering even for a second - but she’s also quiet. She speaks with her eyes and as of late, she appears to be dead behind them. 

Sporadically, his gaze drops to his phone, hopelessly anticipating her reply but there’s nothing on his screen aside from a text from Mum. She wants to know whether he’s eaten today. 

Disappointed, Dylan roams the half-empty library. People around him are starting to leave; not a single final is as important as that much needed two hour sleep all of his peers seem to be running on and suddenly he has no idea what has gotten into him. Maybe it has something to do with the not so sneaky couple snogging in the history section, but he’s calling her now. The ringing is making his whole head dizzy and it feels like it’s been going on for hours. Elaine doesn’t pick up. 

She’s probably sleeping, he tells himself.

Dylan makes an attempt to put his phone in the back of his pocket, but his hands are shaking so badly he almost misses it. His Mum’s text flashes across his mind and now, he too, is wondering when’s the last time he ate. He’s pretty sure he had breakfast that morning, but he can’t remember anything that happened in the following hours. He texted Elaine; walked to the library; had two coffees; ignored the unfunny memes Chris sent... but no food. 

Maybe it’s time to go home and he’s about to leave when his foot collides with something and he almost trips over and cracks his head open. 

“So sorry.” He mutters just as quietly while sheepishly rubbing the ankle that’s making his entire body throb. He looks down and is surprised to find out that the something is actually a girl. 

He should ask whether she’s okay because in the position she’s taken - her head stuck between her knees - she appears to be quite small. Something that Dylan isn’t. But, just as always the words lodge themselves in the middle of his throat. The girl slowly raises her head, revealing a pair of hazel, almost cat-like eyes, a long nose and a frown that Dylan of an overturned crescent moon.

She stares at him. “You stepped on me.” 

Dylan nods, daftly. “Right. Sorry.” He replies, vigorously rubbing the back of his neck. The whole thing makes him feel quite sheepish and her glaring is of no help. Every atom in his body is beginning for Dylan to look away; focus somewhere else, but her eyes are like a magnet. A tear rolls down her cheek. Suddenly, she starts crying. 

Shit, he injured her. 

“Are you okay?” Dylan rushes to her aid, but he barely knows this girl - maybe she doesn’t want his help so he backs away. The sudden movement makes him feel dizzy.. “I’m so sorry I stepped on you.” 

The girl shakes her head. “I’m failing.” All that crying has left her puffy eyed. “I enrolled in these stupid classes because I wanted to prove people I’m wickedly clever - which clearly I am not - because wickedly clever people actually understand things and I don’t understand a bloody thing -” Her voice trails off. 

Dylan’s palms begin sweating. His throat feels dry. The room, a mess of black and white flashes.

He can’t lose focus. He can’t pass out. Not now. Not in front of her. 

“Oi, are you okay?” 

Someone - the girl - presses her hand gingerly against his shoulder. His eyes begin to focus slowly, but the room is still a mix of blurs and flashes. She asks him one more time if he’s okay and Dylan desperately wants to answer, but fears by doing so he might accidentally swallow his tongue. 

“D’you want a bit of my Coke?” The steadiness in her voice surprises him. She’s no longer crying. From the corner of his eye he can notice her moving; vigorously rummaging through something. The silence in the library makes every single one of her actions louder than it actually is. 

Dylan blinks and before he’s able to properly chase away the spots clouding his vision, she’s in front of him. Without a single word, she hands him the bottle of Coke and Dylan accepts the kind gesture without a second thought, which in hindsight is a very bad idea - never take candy from strangers and all that - but if he doesn’t get his blood sugar up he will quite possibly go into a hyperglycemic shock and the last thing he wants to do is worry his poor Mum by spending the night in A&E. 

“Better?” Dylan hears her say once he’s taken a couple of sips from her drink. Even though his throat is not as dry as it used to be, he’s still not feeling quite like himself. 

“Not quite.” He manages an answer. “Dizzy.” His surroundings are finally starting to make sense again. So is the person before him. Her eyes are bright, hazel, wide and protruding. The kinds that make you feel as if they’re able to see into your soul. She takes a step back and her gangly limbs and tall frame stun him. Her appearance reminds him of that of a teenager suddenly, Dylan catches himself smiling softly - he also looks younger than he actually is. 

“D’you like to sit down? She asks, but doesn’t wait for his answer. “Let’s get you to sit down.” Her hand finds its way to his forearm and it’s only then when Dylan remembers - or better said, realizes - that her second hand has been pressed against his other arm all along. 

Before he knows it, they are both sitting on the ground; his head comfortably leaning against the tall bookshelf.  “Better?” Dylan nods very, very slowly. “What happened?”

“I’m…” He opens his mouth, but his throat is closing up again - forcing Dylan to take a couple more sips from the drink she offered him. “I’m diabetic. I had quite the day and not enough time to eat, so…” The rest of the sentence gets stuck in the middle of his throat, so instead of making an attempt to try and finish what he started, he laughs. Next to him, the mess of bleached curls and puffy eyes once again dives her head into the depths of her massive bag. 

“Shite.” Her gaze collides with his own. “I only have sweets.” The overturned crescent moon has returned to its rightful place. Dylan can’t stop staring at it. 

“Sweets are fine. I need sweets right now.” He watches a bolt of lightning rush into her eyes. They’re glowing. She is glowing. 

A large box of what appears to be homemade biscuits lands in front of his face. Dylan, being as polite as ever, allows himself the liberty of only taking one, but that seems to be the wrong decision because the second his hand is out of the box, she shakes the container - silently indicating he should most definitely grab a couple more. 

Upon her insistence, he takes a handful, carefully holding each biscuit in his palm and chewing slowly. The sweet taste of cinnamon overpowers all of his senses. He’s never had anything as tasty as this and a part of him feels compelled to stuff all of them in his mouth. “These are,” He says with a mouthful, “Brilliant. Bloody fucking brilliant.”  

“Thanks.” Her smile is so wide it’s almost a grin. 

“Did you make them?” She nods and Dylan bites into the second one. “Wow. Wow! Thank you. You! You’re a lifesaver!” He turns to look at her and is surprised to find her entire face beat red. For the first time since he stepped on her, she avoids his stare by fetching a biscuit. 

They eat in silence and Dylan can’t remember the last time the quiet has been this pleasant. He barely knows the strange girl sitting beside him and yet for some reason his brain is making him feel like they’ve known each other for ages. He watches as his hand rests empty on his lap. The only thing remaining from the biscuits are the crumbs and he really wants to ask for more, but is too shy. Instead he takes another sip of Coke and feels his body slowly come back to life.  

He’s stopped shaking. His head and surroundings have steadied. Gone are the blurry vision and  flashes of black and white. Just to be hundred percent sure, he checks the small watch on his wrist - his blood sugar has almost returned to normal. 

Dylan swallows. 

The girl has left the container with the biscuits open and between the small space separating their bodies. Have they been sitting this close all along? The lack of distance makes him a tad uncomfortable. It’s not like they’re doing anything; they’re just sitting in complete silence and yet, for some strange reason a tiny part of Dylan makes him feel as if he’s betraying Elaine or something. 

His brain is playing tricks with him again so in order to quiet it, he reaches for another biscuit. If she didn’t want him taking more she would’ve put the box back in her bag. Right? Just because he isn’t quite sure, as well as desperately wanting to remain as polite as possible, Dylan takes one. Just one. 

From the corner of his eye he can see her placing a large book on her lap. He recognizes the cover almost immediately. “You’re a fresher.” He says and she nods. He should’ve known. He too was in quite the state during his first year at uni, except unlike her, his mental breakdowns happened in the privacy of his dorm room.  

“What gave it away?” She cocks her head a little to the side; lips slowly spreading into a wide, toothy grin. 

“The book.” He awkwardly points his finger at her lap. “I took the same class in my first year as well.” He smiles and their eyes meet. The grin on her face grows wider and Dylan suddenly realizes just how large and straight her teeth are. He’s never seen anything quite like it. He can’t stop looking at her and no matter what he does, he simply cannot bring himself to tear his gaze away from her smile. Her eyes. Her dimples. Her. 

He takes another biscuit.  

“Oh, does that mean you’re in Web Development like me, then?” 

“No - Computer Engineering.” 

The sparkle in her eyes disappears for a brief moment, but Dylan prides himself in not being able to notice any of that. He hadn’t been looking at her for that long. She looks away and he doesn’t know why, but suddenly it feels like the sun has faded behind a mass of thick grey clouds. 

“But I still know stuff. I’m really good with computers. Software. Coding. Maths. Anything really.” She turns to look at him and Dylan smiles. It’s quite an extraordinary sight - watching the sparkle return to her eyes. “I can show you the ropes if you’d like.”

“You will?”

“Yeah! I mean - it’s the least I can do to repay you for saving my life.” He tries to make his voice sound casual - deal lord does he try - but instead it comes off high pitched and awkward. The laugh he adds in the end in a desperate attempt to cover up for his inadequacy only makes it worse. “What’re you struggling with?” 

She snaps the book open within seconds; wasting zero time in cramming it in the small space between their bodies. “All the highlighted parts.” Dylan blinks - pages upon pages have been coloured in bright neon pink. “Oh and, I’m Claire by the way.” She extends her arm. “Sorry for not mentioning it before.” 

“How possibly could you? You were dealing with a man on the brink of death.” He shakes her hand.  “I’m Dylan.” 

Claire’s laughter echoes across the entire library. She makes notes of all the things she doesn’t understand and he spends his time wanting to ask whether she’s aware of just how contagious her smile is. Obviously he doesn’t dare to because not only is that incredibly cringey and lame, it also happens to sound eerily like a line Chris would use to pick up birds. And Dylan is not here to pick up birds. He already has a bird at home - well, in Paris - but she’s still his bird nevertheless and he makes sure to tell himself this each time he’d catch himself repeating Claire’s name in the back of his mind.   

When they decide to finally leave the library it’s well past midnight. 

On the steps of the building he watches the way Claire clutches her books firmly against her chest. “Same time tomorrow?” Her hair looks almost golden in the dim street light. Her eyes, a piercing shade of forest green. He catches himself, as well as the large lump that’s stuck in the middle of his throat, before nodding. “I’ll wait for you. Don’t be late.” 

Dylan wants to tell her that he’s never late. That, as a matter of fact, he sometimes - if not most times - tends to be early, but a part of him feels that if he were to say that, he might sound a bit too keen to see her again, which obviously and clearly he is not. 

“I won’t.” He says it finally and for the first time in a long time, he’s actually satisfied with the words that have left his lips. He managed to sound chill. Casual. Friendly. Having his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his jacket is a further proof of his practising nonchalance. 

Claire nods, smiling that perfect smile of hers and for some strange reason witnessing it makes Dylan think he might almost go into a hypoglycemic shock again. He doesn't and they say their goodbyes while standing at a respectable distance and when they turn to leave, they turn at the same time - both in completely different directions. As he walks away, every single atom in Dylan’s body is screaming at him to look over his shoulder. Throw a glance; just a single little short glance and take one last look at her. 

“Hey Dylan!” He turns instantly. Almost too instantly. 

A couple of feet away - so close, yet so far away - Claire is looking at him. She’s no longer cradling all those books. They’re probably in that massive bag of hers. “It was very nice to meet you!” She half-shouts and something inside Dylan’s chest bursts and suddenly all sorts of feelings begin oozing out of him. Feelings such as joy and astonishment and happiness along with a very distinct feeling. A feeling he hasn’t felt in such a long time, he almost completely forgot the way it’s supposed to feel. 

The corner of his lips develop a mind of their own and he can’t help it - he too is now smiling as brightly and widely as Claire. What does one say to something as lovely as that? As lovely as Claire? Should he just continue smiling and nod? Or should he say something funny and quirky in order to make her laugh? 

“Likewise.” He says and if it weren’t for the small giggle that escaped her lips the moment he said it, Dylan would’ve cursed himself all the way back to the dorm.