𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 20 - Hold onto each other

"I know... But it's the first time he's been away for so long. I feel like he'll never come back..." I confessed.

"He will. Just trust him," he said as he pulled me in his arms.

"I know what you need," he added with a mischievous smile, and before I could realise he had something in mind, he had lifted me off the ground and was running towards the river. I tried my best to free myself from his clasp, but he was too strong and in no time, we were falling into the fresh water. I quickly surfaced, completely soaked and very mad at Joseph. I wiped the hair from my face and frowned at him but he was giggling like a child.

"I hate you," I shouted as I splashed water in his face.

"Now you've a good reason to hate someone," he laughed and splashed me back.

I jumped on him and tried to push him under water, but he resisted and instead, I was the one who had to hold her breath. I laughed at my miserable attempt and attacked him again. We fought like kids until we were both breathless, until I realised I had managed to let go. Guilt crept over me for I felt I was betraying Andrew by not thinking about him. I knew it was stupid, and that not thinking about him did not mean I was forgetting him, but missing someone was a really hard feeling to deal with. I would realise I had difficulty remembering his voice, his smell, his touch, and I would think it was my fault, when it wasn't. But I blamed myself nonetheless.

Joseph had noticed my sudden change of mood but before he could ask me what was wrong, I had stepped out of the water and wrapped myself in my towel.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he joined me.

"Yes, I was just a bit cold," I lied as I forced a smile.

"It's starting to be late, maybe we should make a move if we want to catch the train," he suggested.

I nodded in agreement, so Joseph called for the rest of the group to gather. We all dressed up and collected our things before leaving for the train station. We were entering the village when a familiar noise caught my attention. We all raised our eyes to the sky to see four spitfires rush above our heads in a roaring sound. There was something spectacular and graceful about the way they were flying in close formation. Seeing them here was a reminder that we could go on with our lives thanks to them. While the rest of the group did not pay much attention, I instinctively stopped, following them with my eyes until they disappeared behind the tops of the trees. What if it was him just there? What if it was Andrew? Chances were very slim, but anything that could link me to him was worth taking.

"Freya, come on," Joseph called me. "We're gonna miss the train!"

And so, I erased the spitfires from my thoughts and hurried to catch up with my friend.

*

I had arrived back home early in the evening. As soon as I had walked through the front door, I had felt his absence to be unbearable. It was just too much after that day. I had dropped my bag on the floor and headed to our bedroom to grab a piece of paper and write to Andrew. I wanted to be honest and tell him all the feelings that were weighing on my heart, tell him how much I missed him and how it was hard to go on with my life when he was not there. I shared my torments with him, hoping it would make me feel better, but it did not. Looking at that bed that we had only shared for one night made me want to cry, for every night I slipped under the blankets, his warm body was not there to comfort me, his arms were not there to embrace me, nor his voice to lull me. I thought of Eden and how lucky she was to have married a man that she could see almost every day and that she was sure would come back home to her. I had never thought it would be that painful to love someone. Two weeks apart was fine, four months was difficult but manageable, but a year, it just became pain in the end. You tended to forget what was good about your relationship, blinded by the torture of being separated. It was not something I could endure that night. I could not stay alone in our flat, and so I had left for some place where I knew I would find the comfort I needed. Thirty minutes later, I was knocking at my father's door, hoping he was not already asleep. When he opened the door, I could tell he was surprised to see me there.