12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter six

s i x

*

We've only just left town when Casper gets a call and turns down the radio to answer, twisting towards the window as that will silence his conversation. I try to focus on the near-silent radio and not on what he's saying but that's pretty hard when it's just the two of us in the car and while my eyesight may be pretty shit, my hearing's impeccable.

The call doesn't last long. Casper bounces his foot when it ends, phone clutched in his palm. He doesn't say anything for a moment and when I glance at him, his jaw is set, his eyes dark. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't hear every word he and Eric just spoke.

"Want to go and get your stuff?"

"I guess I don't have much choice," he says, lifting his phone.

I've never met Eric, and that phone call is the first time I've heard his voice. Not the best first impression, considering he sounded stressed and clipped as he asked – no, told – Casper that he'd boxed up his things and he should come and get them. There was no emotion in his voice. If anything, he sounded cold. Not at all like he was putting the nail in the coffin of a two-year relationship.

"Better to get it over and done with," I say. It sounds hopeless and pathetic, but what else can I say? There's no point filling him with empty sentiments; I'm pretty sure they're not going to get back together and it's not up to me to decide whether or not he's going to be ok. Considering he's now technically homeless, I guess, and he doesn't get on with his parents, maybe he won't be.

"Yeah."

He doesn't say much for the next ten minutes, until I pull up on the kerb outside Eric's flat, and I hear a low groan next to me. Casper has sunk down in his seat, his hand over his face. He looks like he's about to cry, his lips pressed together and a shine in his eyes.

"You okay?"

"I don't want to go in," he says. The words come out quietly, almost a hoarse whisper. "Ugh. I can't do it. God, this is so fucking shit. Let's just go back to yours."

"No, you need your stuff. I have a limited supply of clothes from exes that you can borrow and I don't plan on doing laundry every day." I put the car into neutral and switch off the engine. "Want me to go up?"

He nods meekly. "Number five," he says. "Sorry. I just can't face it."

I pat his knee as I get out of the car and look up at the building. It's one of those old houses that used to belong to one family and at some point got chopped into six different flats. Outside, there are six buzzers; I press the fifth. A moment later, a tinny voice says, "Come in."

The door opens. I head up two flights of stairs to the top floor and take a moment to catch my breath and regain my composure before I knock on the door with a gleaming number five nailed above a peep hole. There's a sound on the other side before the door opens a couple of inches, enough for Eric to look me up and down through the gap.

"Who're you?"

"Casper's friend. I'm here to get his stuff."

Eric frowns. "I know Cas's friends. I don't know you."

I guess I should give props to the guy for not giving his ex's stuff to the first person who rocks up, but I can't be bothered to go through some big rigmarole of proving who I am or dragging Casper up here. Eric's eyeing me like I'm some mangy dog. This guy gives me bad vibes, though our interactions have been pretty limited.

"I'm Beth, from Java Tea. Cas is staying with me seeing as you kicked him out in the rain last night. Now I'm here to get his stuff for him because, understandably, he doesn't want to see you." I give him a pointed look, my eyebrows raised. "So let me take his shit, because I don't feel like putting up with any of yours, all right?"