XIV

Alexander David

SPRINKLING SOME COLOGNE over me was the final touch of my process of getting ready. My hair was in place, and my clothes didn't look too awful, I suppose. With a final sigh from the lips and the clutch of my coat, I exit my house, locking the door as I leave.

The normal weather of Derby attacks me, including the bitter slap of the wind. The night sky was incredibly dark, causing the moon to be the center of attention. Chirps from crickets, quiet small talk and the smooth driving of citizens filled the atmosphere.

It was a perfect night for a smoke, yet I refrained myself from doing so, since I was to meet with Thomas to further discuss things and I knew him and me were bound to have a smoke.

Smoking wasn't an addiction for me; it was more of an occasional treat. People like to have a sweet every now and then, but sweets didn't really appeal to me; cigarettes did.

Everyone had coping mechanisms, whether it was to punch a mirror, binge, slice their skin, or smoke in my case, it was a way to cope. I was incredibly unhappy; I was just stressed.

I didn't want to hurt Kimberly, no one could imagine how many nightmares I had, me breaking her and it always ended with me screaming and waking up with the slightly comforting realization that it was all a dream. I knew one day I would open my eyes and it wouldn't be.

The action of hurting someone is looked down upon, but hurting someone for the sake of your job seemed unforgivable. I couldn't think about my life without Kimberly yet being aware of her existence.

How would I walk into her class, and teach? How could I avoid her gaze when her eyes could brainwash me, without even being aware of doing so?

All of these things seemed beyond impossible and as much as I wanted to put the blame on Thomas, I couldn't. He was quite a good friend of mine and he was only doing his job and I shouldn't be mad at him for doing so.

I sigh once again, heading into a pub, which wasn't your stereotypical, loud chaotic bar, but rather a calm, social venue for folks to have a drink or two and exchange conversations.

I wonder round the pub, in search for Thomas as he sits in a quiet corner, a cigarette already in his fingers. I make my way towards him, greeting him with a smile and a polite shake of the hand.

"Alright, mate?" I greet and take a seat opposite him. Diving into my pocket, I fish out my lighter and cigarette packet, taking out a single one and lighting it.

"Sir Bloomsbury," he corrects jokingly, "What'd you fancy?" he offers.

"A margarita, Sir Bloomsbury," I wink with a laugh before taking a puff of my cigarette, inhaling the tobacco which occasionally tasted foul without Kimberly.

Thomas stands at the pub, already flirting with the barista, probably in order for a free drink or two. He walks back towards me, two drinks in hand, as he gives on to me and keeps one for himself before taking a seat.

Next thing I do without even noticing is fish out my wallet in a flash, and take out a five-pound note. I doubted it costs that much or that he paid for it, but extra money couldn't cause harm.

An immediate response of his is to shake his hand and head in protest, strongly declining the money, which I continue to force onto him until he accepted the money.

If I didn't do so, it seemed as though I was only offering to be polite, but I wanted to be known as a fair person, so I continued to push.

Even though we were fairly close, I was always self-conscious about how I presented myself. It had taken me years to conquer my low self esteem and I wanted to show people who I now thought I was. I am a caring person, and if that makes me cocky, then let that be. I am entitled to my self-esteem.

With great efforts he finally accepts it as I had wished before thanking me repetitively and hesitantly sliding it into his pocket, possibly with regret.

I raise my glass as Thomas does the same before clinking it and saying "Cheers," in unison.

"What is about Kimberly you wanted to discuss?" I ask after taking a sip of my drink, whilst looking at him.

He takes a long sip of his drink, before answering me. "I'm going to tell you how you're going to break it off with her."

Break it? Break it with her? What? What was he talking about? What in the world could he possibly be talking about? I know this is about Kimberly, but that's a week away. I have a week of bliss before my life falls and crumbles brick by brick.

He was going to tell me how to hurt her? That was only going to make my nightmares worse, more vivid, more real. This would result in even more sleepless nights, boundless nightmares and lies.

Things were only going to get worse when I wasn't around Kimberly; it always seemed that way. I had only happy memories with her and I wished nothing else. I never want to have a single trauma with her, if that was even possible.

How could anything possibly be a trauma if it is shared with the one you love more than anything that this world has to offer? How was that possible? I don't know how anyone could have a trauma with Kimberly. Surely all time spent with her is a blessing.

I had finally understood when people talked about finding that one person fascinating. I can't do this. I don't have it in me. I can come off as a person who knows what he's doing and is a 'strong' person, but no matter how strong you are, you have to be made out of steel to hurt Kimberly.

"Ah fuck you, Tom," I grumble, rolling my eyes. "You've done more than fucking enough," I sigh, and just as I was about to slam my glass against the table and call it a night, Tom places his hand on my sleeve.

"I know, this is the last thing you want to hear, but remember why we agreed on this. I know I strongly suggested this, but you agreed."

"Only for her sake," I respond quickly. "Not for your fucked up fantasies."

"D'you fancy an ash tray?" He asks, aware of my stressful situation and I nod my head before he raises his arm in the air before the woman he previously flirted with makes her way towards with him, a smile painted on her face.

"What can I get for you?" She smiles, twirling her hair around her finger, almost ignoring me completely and giving complete attention to Thomas, which I didn't really care for at the moment. I didn't want attention; not now.

Thomas notices her hand resting on the table and strokes it softly before speaking in an alluring manner. "Would you mind fetching me an ash tray, babe?" He asks with a wink.

Babe. The first nickname that she had given me, which drove me crazy for the rest of the week. Her voice and the word babe just rolled off her tongue perfectly, as if she was made for it.

The woman leans forward and whispers in his ear. "Definitely," which almost made me laugh since her attempt at whispering wasn't at it's greatest if I could hear it.

He slides his hand down to her arse and I refrain from grimacing to give an impression of a polite person. "What a doll," he whispers back, and his attempt at that is only as good at hers.

She giggles and walks away and I thank whomever the fuck is up there, for allowing that to happen. "What's her name?" I smirk, knowing that he wouldn't know the answer.

When he doesn't respond I start to chuckle uncontrollably, him jokingly raising his middle finger, only causing me to crack up even more. "Scumbag."

"Go fuck yourself," he speaks, yet speaks again, "You musn't do that as much, with a bird on ya," he winks and I refrain from blushing with every cell in my body. Thank god for these fucking lights. He raises his finger, signalling that he has an idea. "Actually, I'm pretty sure she's doing it for ya."

"You've had one too many, Thomas," I say into my glass before taking another sip.

"Oh I get, Alex. No gentleman should kiss and tell," he laughs.

"Can you fuck off, mate?" I laugh, really not wanting to talk about my activity with Kimberly. I guess you could say that we hadn't done that much, but even if we had, I really wasn't one to brag, even if I was lucky enough to have Kimberly.

"Oh, right, you still haven't shagged her," he smirks with a nod and I try very hard not to roll my eyes.

I sigh in annoyance. "I can't fucking shag her then leave her, can I?"

He places his hand on his heart. "Ah, bless you. Such a sensitive lad," he teases, ruffling my hair and I pull away. "Ah, right. That's Browne's job innit?"

I start to laugh again, thinking about how fucking absurd this was. Yes, I understood his need to be nosey in order to perform his job, as he should; yet he was teasing me about a student's sex life. I'm sure Kim would be absolutely fluorescent if she were to be here.

"Alright, can we just fucking get to the point," I shake my head, knowing Thomas was always one for postponing what he actually wanted to say, an irritable habit of his.

"You need to tell her that what you had was fake. You didn't mean a single thing to her, and it was just so her Anxiety would get better."

Telling Kimberly I wanted to end a relationship with her would kill me enough as it is, but fucking telling her that everything we had wasn't real, yet it actually seemed like the only 'real' thing that had happened in my life.

"How many times do I have to tell you to fuck yourself before you understand that I'm not going to hurt to hurt her," I shout.

I couldn't leave her as it is, but like this, it would be absolutely impossible. I wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, breathe, focus or concentrate. She was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if it could cause damage to my career.

My mouth was trembling and I inhaled the cigarette once again, bringing me temporary peace, I kept doing so, until I felt fucking numb. I chugged down the remainder of my drink before calling the woman again.

"A drink would be fucking fantastic love," I smile wearily, my voice incredibly hoarse from the intake of alcohol and tobacco. She gives me a weird look, probably questioning why I was acknowledging her existence now, instead of earlier.

"Mate, dial it down," he warns, before my drink arrives and I reach out to chug it down before Tom grabs my wrist. "Look, mate, just because you don't like it-"

"DON'T LIKE IT?" I shout, and even I'm stunned at how loud I spoke. Everyone glances out way for a moment, before deciding they don't give the slightest fuck.

"Do you have the slightest idea how fucked up this is? Do you think about the bullshit you say before you say it because this is just utter shit," I say, fully aware now that I was probably spitting on his face.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Resting my cigarette, I adjust my coat. "Lets go out for a stroll, yeah?" he asks politely and calmly before placing a ten-pound note and his business card, probably recommending the woman to call him.

We've grabbed our belongings and we are leaving the pub, and I try to think of a reason for my sudden outburst. I hated shouting and I did it ever so rarely, that it shocks me when it happens. I don't want to seem aggressive, because I'm not, and shouting doesn't resolve anything. Of course all people have preferences, but I'd gladly stay quiet then shout.

It may seem very obvious to others, but I only just realised what I actually had to do; it was a realisation that wasn't wanted; yet needed.

"You do know, that if it weren't for this job of mine, I wouldn't have a problem with you and Kim, right?" He asks, trying to make eye contact, yet my gaze was fixed on the ground.

"Yeah, I do," I reply, no emotion in my tone since it didn't seem necessary, after all, he had said this before plenty of times, and I knew it was true, yet I couldn't think of that right now. It was the last thing on my mind.

"If you had told me that you had a problem from the start, instead of making up this facade, we would have never-"

"Come on now, David. At least don't lie about it. I didn't create that picture of you two basically going down each other's throats." Bloomsbury said back, laughing as though this was funny.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You really are naïve. I broke it up with her the same night. We both knew it couldn't go any further because of... y'know, everything. We only continued because of you. And now I cannot spend a damn day in peace."

I understand that he would feel guilty, because he didn't want to see me unhappy or whatever, but he didn't understand that I was too busy thinking of what was going to happen to me and Kimberly instead of blaming him, because it just seemed, and was, stupid.

He holds my chin up, and I am stunned at this. "I don't think you understand, Al. You don't understand that I see it all, as cliché and stupid as it sounds, but I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before and I see how much you-"

"I don't love her. I can't," I say blandly, "I don't know, I just care about her a real fucking lot. "What we have, is the best thing that's happened to me, Tom. Regardless, she comes first. If she's going to somehow," the tears well up in my eyes and my throat begins to burn, "benefit from this, then, let her be," I speak, and the tear slips.

It was a quiet tear. The tear that holds so much emotion yet goes unnoticed, when you've had too much that you don't have any more power to sob, scream and make a fuss. It's all you have left, and those tears are always the worst.

Thomas' strong voice sweeps right in, upon noticing my quiet tear, which I rapidly wiped off. "If you think she's simply going to get better because of your pain, you couldn't be more wrong."

"Well what else am I supposed to believe?" I ask, looking for an answer simply by just looking at him.

"I know I said that she'd benefit from this, but I didn't mean that she'd be even more happy without you. I meant that there are less chances of her getting hurt. She'll get hurt by this, but for a period of time, and she wont get hurt again, Alex. You're saving her."

"From me," I sighed, "I am a monster," I spoke before he could interrupt. "I know it isn't your fault okay? I'm going to call it a night, perhaps call Kim or something- dunno. See you tomorrow, Thomas," I smile and walk away before he could respond.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I leave Kim a message, desperately hoping for her to respond.

Hey love, I hope everything's alright on your side. Would you mind picking me at sallywood close?

After painfully long duration of two minutes, my mobile causes a vibration and I immediately open the new notification.

I'm great, but I don't think me picking you up is the most convenient.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, wondering how it wasn't convenient, and felt slightly offended but responded nonetheless.

How so?

This time she actually responds quickly, yet takes a little time to type, which causes me to laugh. I knew she didn't use her phone as much as teens did nowadays; she spent too much time engulfed in hidden meanings.

What happens if someone sees us together?

I sighed, knowing that she was right, but that wasn't what caused me to sigh. Everything was a reminder that I couldn't show my affection for her publicly and flaunt her around, like teens would with a new phone.

on sallywood's close there are a few pubs, which I've been to and I know it is most definitely isn't a teens scene.

I stare at the text and take a deep breath before sending it, hoping that it was convincing enough to make her come and pick me up.

Convincing piece of shit. See you in ten.

I laugh once more before sliding my phone back in my pocket, rubbing my hands together to create warmth because of the fact that it was a quite a chilly night and nothing sounded better then a cup of tea and warm blankets.

I take a seat on one of the benches that was close by and watched each car, how the lights occasionally flickered, how people rarely got mad at each other for horning, and thankfully no drunk drivers were in sight; at least for now anyways.

A silver car, a Toyota, I suppose because of the logo on the car, swiftly drove and stopped upon seeing me, which only made me think that it was Kimberly.

She comes out of the car, with a hoodie, tights and knee socks on her. Her makeup as usual is the same, a heavy black eye look.

A glued smile is on her face as she shyly cradles me in a hug, which I gratefully accept, with a kiss on her forehead and a wrap of my arms.

"Hey babe," I joke and she giggles against my shoulder.

"You look amazing," she whispers as she pulls away and I beam in response for two reasons, one being obvious, which was that someone I really liked had complimented me and the second one being how she was so much more comfortable around me now.

"People would kill to have your looks, lovely," I smile, which she returns and intertwines her fingers with mine.

A loud whistle is heard, and there is Richard couldn't look happier, with a smile too wide to be real. His looks were bright and it was only then that it came back to me. I have to hurt her. I have to tell her what we had was fake; all of it.

He makes his way towards the pair of us, greeting us with a chirpy, "How'd you do?" then later cutting us off, not allowing us to respond, "I'll tell yer, I feel fucking amazing, it's about time Kimberly got into action," he teases and I had already predicted that Kim was flushed already, but the dark night had saved her. "Now, get your fat asses in me car, it's fucking freezing."

We obediently make our ways into the five seater car, Richard in this Driver's seat, and Kimberly and I in the back of the car. Richard turns for a split second. "Don't fuck each other in me car, me mam will kill me."

Kimberly's face is already buried deep within the palms of her hands, as she seats on the other side of the car and I laugh at her expression.

I drag her towards me with the help of our looped hands, and she shrieks in shock, which sounded slightly like high-pitched moan.

"Eh! Mate, there was one fucking rule!" Richard groans, obviously assuming that I'd slept with her in the car. I have no idea how quickly Niall shags lasses, but I don't do it anywhere as fast.

"It's Sir for you, Richard," I correct, refraining myself from laughing.

Richard scoffs. "When your practically screwing me sister, I'd think otherwise, Alex," he says, mocking the way Kim pronounced my name and I burst out laughing and Kimberly did the same unexpectedly, soon resulting in her laugh to go silent because of how hard she was laughing which couldn't make me more happier; I loved it when she laughed.

"You're a twat, you know?"

"Eh, fuck off. I've read your works. Aren't you supposed to call me a can of dandelion and burdock or something?" He defends, causing Kim and me to snicker.

After a few brief seconds of silence, Richard huffs and switches on the radio quietly before focusing solemnly on his driving instead of our sex lives.

"Where were you sixth period?" Kimberly's angelic voice questions with concern deep in her eyes.

"With Sir Bloomsbury," I speak and her eyes widen as she jumps up in surprise.

"What for?"

I smile. "Just to see how you've been lately, don't worry about it," I assure her, but soon realise that I was only attempting to assure myself.