A/N hello lovelies, very quickly – I know most of you know this, but for those who don't – I'm writing another AU story for Christian and Syed, but won't be posting it on here as, well, it's more an original story than AU. If you'd like to read it, send me a private message and I'll give you the link. Once again thank you all for your reviews, I love you all! Hope you enjoy x
Light filters through half shut blinds and eyes squint under the unwelcome glare. Rolling, stretching and groaning – they typical way I start my day. Muscles stretch and bones click; my tired body objecting, yet needing the movement. Only this morning, where I would usually lay there in the limbo between dreams and consciousness, my body pulls up off the bed on impulse, eyes flying open and then shut again as the natural light of the day proves too much for them this soon after waking.
Blinking, yawning, and a bit more stretching does the trick, and letting my eyes adjust to the warmly lit room of my flat I notice a figure sat on the edge of my bed, turned around to watch me.
I reach out on instinct.
"Why are you all the way over there?" I moan, not understanding why I can't be cuddled up to him like I so want to be.
"Good morning." He says simply, not responding to my pathetic attempts to reach out and pull him back to me.
"What's the time?"
"6.20"
Falling back against my bed I let soft pillows envelope me in a warm embrace. Why would anyone in their right mind want to get up so damn early? And more to the point, why would anyone in their right mine want to leave the haven that is my bed? I didn't fork out all that money for nothing.
"Why are you up this soon, Syed?" I groan, rubbing my eyes with sleepy, not-used-to-functioning hands.
"I need to leave."
Eyes blink a few more times, getting used to the invasion of light.
"For this breakfast thing with your mum? No one has breakfast this early in the morning!" It's a joke, an honest joke but the way he turns and looks at me... shit, what did I say?
"I said I need to leave, okay? Stop asking all these bloody questions!"
Er... okay?
Sitting up again – this time much more awake – I let my gaze drag steadily over his face, studying him. He looks angry, brows creased in a frown, eyes scornful, fists slightly clenched in the dark red material of the duvet cover.
"Looks like you're not a morning person then." I mumble.
Big mistake. Huge.
"Look I'm sorry if I'm not quite what you expected in the mornings, but I told you that I was leaving early and that's what I'm doing!"
"Jesus Sy, calm down alright? It was just a joke..."
Well fat chance of that happening, I think my attempts of trying to calm the situation down is only making things worse. But honestly, have I done something? Last time I checked I'm pretty sure all I did was wake up.
He gets up off the bed, grabbing his watch from the bedside table and not even bothering to put it on, and moves over to grab his jacket of the edge of the chair.
Something pulls in my stomach, clenching and twisting. I don't like this, not at all. It makes me feel uneasy when I argue with people, especially when I have no idea what I've done wrong. Especially when I'm involved with the person. Especially when it's a person I actually like; a lot.
I get up out of bed – slightly chilly now as I'm dressed only in boxers, something I become acutely aware of – and make my way over to him as he roughly pushes his arms through the sleeve of his jacket. I'm glad I'm not that sleeve right now, it's surprising it's even still attached to the rest of the coat...
When he's finished the onslaught, a hand reaches out to him and gently clasps around his slight wrist. Turning him to look at me I find it hard not to smile – in fact I do smile – at the expression he wears on his face. I swear it's not even possible to frown that much. He frowns a lot, I have noticed that, but it's endearing, and incredibly sexy. I won't tell him this now, for fear of being hit in the face.
"Listen, I think we need to talk." I say, trying to get eye contact with him.
"About what."
"I think you know what."
He looks up, confused. Honestly, he looks like he has no idea what I'm talking about. No idea why he's so angry! So, he's pissed off for a reason that not only I don't know about, but he doesn't know either? God this boy is confusing.
"You regret it don't you." This time I'm not smiling.
"Regret what?"
Does he really not understand anything I say?
"Last night."
"What about it?"
Oh my actual Jesus.
"It's okay, I get that you regret sleeping with me, alright?" My voice raises slightly on impulse, then lowers again , "I just want to know what I can do or say to make it better, 'cos right now I feel pretty bad, and I have no idea how to fix it..."
The confusion disappears from his face, but is replaced with a look of almost sadness.
"No... that's not it." He shakes his head, eyes fixed to the floor. "It's not you-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence with 'it's me'." Eyes glare at him, but soon soften.
He doesn't, in fact he doesn't say anything at all. The silence grows and becomes intrusive, something I absolutely hate.
"Sy... talk to me." My fingers reach his chin, tilting his face up to look at me. I can't resist rubbing the slight stubble beneath my fingertips, so rough yet somehow smooth. And those dark pink lips, the ones that make mine feel so complete when pressed against them. "Please," I breathe, taking a careful step closer, "just tell me. I know you're feeling crap after last night, I mean you barely slept a wink last night and-"
"What?" He frowns again.
"Well you were tossing and turning all night." Which he was. All night. He'd settle down if I stroked a hand up and down his back, but by the time I fell asleep again he'd start up and I didn't know what to do. I think he was having a bad dream. He'd curl up to me and calm a little, but the amount of times I got thumped in the chest was not even funny. I mean obviously it wasn't a deliberate hit, or a particularly hard hit, but it certainly got uncomfortable. At the time I assumed he just needed his sleeping space, I know I certainly do - last night proving a break in my usual habits, I often can't stand to be cuddled up to anyone when I sleep, but I don't know... last night he was just there and cosy, and comforting. Well, bar the hitting and shuffling and sleep talking...
"What were you dreaming about?" I had to ask, I just had to. Wrong decision, again.
"Can you just leave it?" he snaps, pulling his hand out of my grasp.
"No, I want to know!"
"It's none of your business!"
"Well it is if it affects your mood, the way you talk to me!"
We stand, glaring each other out. His eyes, usually so soft and gentle are harsh, bitter...
"I've got to go."
Turning to walk out I grab his arm again, this time a lot more desperately.
"Please don't, let's sort this..."
"No, I need to leave." Tugging out of my grasp he's suddenly extremely strong.
"Syed please!"
My voice cracks, it bloody cracks! I feel like a total and utter idiot but you know what, I don't even care. What I do care about is that he's about to leave my place angry with me, and I don't want that. He's pissed off, but it's not only that... something about this doesn't sit right with me, doesn't feel right. If I'd done something in particular I could understand, let him stand there and yell at me for all he's worth but... I really can't see what I've done, and not only that, the fact that he refuses to talk to me about it speaks volumes. If we don't talk now, when will we?
"Let me go please." Spoken quietly, but loud enough for me to hear it. Syed's face says it all; he's leaving, and doesn't want to come back.
"Can't we just talk about this Sy?" My eyes reach his, trying desperately to get those golden brown orbs to see how sorry I am, how much I don't want him to leave like this.
It doesn't work.
Deep dark eyes look up at me, looking so damn lost and there's nothing I can do to stop it... They're glazed over, as if he's about to cry but he holds it back, pushing me away with a gentle but firm hand. All I want to do is grab him in my arms, squeeze him so tight he can't breathe and keep him safe, but I can't. I bloody can't and it's killing me.
"Call me later?" I whisper as he reaches the door, but he doesn't look back.