Oh, look! It's Friday again. And time for an upload. This one's dedicated to lovethelittlethings3, who sent me the sweetest message ever the other day. Thank you so much.
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I couldn’t sleep.
It was sometime past one o’clock, several hours after I’d arrived back in Walden, showing up on Gram’s doorstep with a suitcase as I had already done once before. The place had seemed eerily empty when I first stepped inside, but I guessed that was what seven days in Lenny’s cramped flat – accompanied by two hippie parents and a newborn with surprising lung capacity – did to you. Considering my current level of exhaustion, I should’ve been asleep in seconds.
It wasn’t just Summer’s sporadic screaming that had worn me out. There had also been Nora herself to contend with. I mean, I loved her more than anything, but our time spent apart had definitely weakened my immunity to her craziness. Living with Gram and her occasional odd habits was nothing compared to my older sister.
Not to mention I’d eaten more organic lentils in the last seven days than I could stomach.
But still, here I was: curled up on top of the duvet, tossing and turning in the heat of my bedroom. The alarm clock appeared to be mocking me as I watched the minutes turn into hours, with no sign whatsoever of sleep descending upon me anytime soon.
The whole town was still, the only sound being that of the faint lapping of waves on the shore from my open window. Even the seagulls had quietened, the absence of their loud cawing leaving perhaps the biggest gap of them all. I was shattered, both physically and mentally, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing, hurtling through my thoughts faster than I could keep up. Every movement only pushed sleep further from reach.
Eventually, I concluded that lying there was pointless, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. Once up, I pulled on a jacket over my pyjamas, slipped grey pumps on my feet and set off for the landing. My sketchbook and phone easily slipped inside a small bag, but I had no idea where I intended to go. All I knew was that I need to clear my head; at least having my sketchbook would provide something productive to fill in the hours I spent not sleeping.
Sneaking out of the house wasn’t likely to be a challenge; Gram was usually the world’s heaviest sleepier. Padding down the stairs, crossing the hallway and slipping out the front door – remembering, at the last minute, to take a key – made for an easier task than I could’ve hoped for.
A chilly breeze rustled through the flimsy fabric of my clothing as I stepped outside, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. Though the day had been pleasantly warm – a waste of nice weather, considering I’d spent most of it packing and crammed into a stuffy train – the lack of sun brought with it a distinct temperature drop, and the wind had definitely picked up.
The noise of the ocean was even louder in the town’s silence; undoubtedly, everyone was sleeping at this hour. I was sure I’d be able to hear the collective sound of snoring pensioners if only I listened hard enough.
My feet felt strangely heavy on the pavement as I headed down to the town centre. In the distance sat the familiar street of shops, their windows darkened, broken up by the artificial light of the twenty-four hour minimarket. It stood the bright spot in a line of darkness, and a split second decision steered me towards it.
The cashier seemed to suffer the shock of his life when I passed through the door. Clearly, late-night customers in Walden were a rarity. Exchanging a brief nod with him as I walked by, I headed straight for the junk food aisle.
Sleep didn’t seem to be on the cards tonight, so I was determined to find the most unhealthy, sugary I could think of. In fact, I was so deep in deliberation about whether I was more in the mood for a chocolate cupcake or a double pack of iced doughnuts that the opening door and footsteps from another customer completely escaped my notice.
Until they poked their head around the aisle.
“Flo?”
I was so surprised to hear another voice that I almost dropped the packet of doughnuts. Head darting in their direction, I came face-to-face with someone I recognised instantly. “Daniel?”
“What are you doing here?” we both cried simultaneously.
“Hey, that was good,” he said, laughing. “We should be a double act or something.”
I found myself grinning, rendered suddenly speechless by the sight of his adorable smile. Unlike me, he was dressed in clothes more sensible for the occasion – jeans, and a hoodie that looked much thicker than my own.
But as my eyes scanned over him, it occurred to me that this was the first time we’d been alone together since the night I stayed over. For a fraction of a moment I was transported back, his red-rimmed eyes and visible sadness brought to the forefront of my mind. I almost wondered if he’d bring it up, or at least do something to acknowledge it had been more than just my imagination, but the burnished glare of the supermarket lights reminded me this was not the place. “Yeah,” was all I managed to force out.
“I didn’t know you were back,” he said, leaning on the shelf full of packaged cupcakes. “How was London? Did everything go okay with Nora?”
Composing myself, I met his gaze. “Yeah, everything went fine. She had a little girl. Summer.”
“Aw, that’s great. Cute name, too.”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
“And you stayed up there a while, didn’t you? I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen back in love with London and abandoned Walden forever.”
I laughed. “Not quite. I only stayed a week – I got back this evening, actually.”
“Right.” I noticed his eyes drifting downwards, stopping only when they landed on the packet clutched in my hands. An amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Midnight snack?”
I could feel my cheeks darkening. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither. Again,” he added, quickly averting his gaze to the shelves beside us, an abundance of all things sugary piled up on every one. Though he’d dared to scrape the surface of the taboo, he chickened out of anything further, retreating as quickly as he could for fear of the reaction. “I kind of came here for the exact same reason.”
Feeling my embarrassment drain away, I held up the packet. “Well, can I interest you in any doughnuts?” I offered. “I’ve got two.”
“Sounds great,” he said. “They’re on me.”
We headed up to the till, where the cashier rung up our food and Daniel handed over a few coins. I couldn’t help but think we must’ve been the most excitement he’d had all shift; he even looked slightly disappointed to watch us go, returning to his game of Angry Birds on his mobile with a look verging on wistfulness.
“So, where to?”
The door of the shop clicked shut, leaving us standing quietly in the empty street. It was odd to see it in such a state – cloaked in darkness, with a distinct absence of its usual bustle. The gap stretched astoundingly wide without clumps of rowdy tourists, cawing seagulls and the yelling of the coastguard from somewhere on the beach. Walden would’ve been unrecognisable had I not gotten to know it so well.
“Where were you headed, anyway?”
I thought back to the sketchbook tucked into my bag, my intention to find a quiet spot for sketching like I’d done on my second day in Walden. “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I was just going to go with the flow.”
He cracked up then, his sudden bark of laughter echoing around the silent street. “Go with the Flo,” he repeated, when all I offered in return was a strange look. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t do that on purpose.”
I rolled my eyes, though I was smiling too. “You’re way too easily amused.”
“And proud.”
He stuck out his tongue, eyes twinkling. Somehow they seemed brighter in the darkness, their hazel colour more striking against the tint of the moonlight. The realisation led me to wonder what my own face looked like. Sleep-deprived and lacking make-up, I assumed I looked a state, but Daniel’s intent look took me by surprise. It was almost as if he was trying to memorise each little detail – even the mass of freckles dotted across my nose and cheeks.
“Where were you going, anyway?” I chipped in. “I don’t believe for a second you were going to have your little midnight feast at home.”
“’Course not. I was going to go to the beach.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that kind of mainstream for someone who’s lived here forever?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, sort of. But it’s different at night. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Without warning, he took my hand, but my heart barely had time to flutter in excitement before I was yanked forwards. He was already heading for the stone steps leading down onto the beach, and I trailed after him. But as our shoes hit the shingle below, he turned right and began striding purposefully to the beach’s edge, where the chalky cliffs stood tall. I hadn’t paid them much attention before; they pretty much marked the end of Walden. At the top sat a small holiday park, whose outermost caravans teetered alarmingly close to the edge, but I hadn’t yet had a reason to venture over there.
“Where are we going?”
A mildly amused look was sent in my direction, over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean this beach,” he said, like it was obvious. “Come on. Trust me on this one.”
Strangely, I didn’t need much more persuasion. It was like I already did trust him, on anything and everything he said. It was sort of scary, how much of myself I was willing to give to someone I’d known for so little time. A matter of weeks was all it’d been, but with Daniel it felt more: so much so that I could barely remember the pre-summer days without him. It was terrifying and exhilarating, all at the same time.
And so I trekked on after him across the stony beach.
“Almost there.” We were now approaching the edge; metres ahead began the towering cliffs, beyond which there was no more of Walden. He stopped here, and our intertwined hands dropped between us. “Close your eyes.”
I frowned. “What?”
He came up behind me, placing a hand over my eyes and effectively blackening my vision. I might’ve tried to wriggle away, had my mind not been so caught up in how warm his skin felt against mine. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you something.”
“I think you’d find that a little bit easier if I could actually see.”
“You’ll see in a minute,” he assured me. “Now hold the doughnuts.”
With a sigh of resignation, I took the packet and let him press into my back, gently ushering me forward. I could feel my breathing getting shallower as I took several wobbly steps forward, too aware of the thousands of jagged rocks just waiting to trip me up. And yet I couldn’t deny that the feel of Daniel’s arms encircling me, the warmth of his body against mine, was a slight comfort.
It must’ve been about five minutes before we finally came to a halt – a journey which would’ve taken much less time had I not been robbed of my sight. “Here we are,” Daniel announced softly, his voice surprisingly close to my ear. Then, I felt the pressure lift from over my eyes.
I knew my life couldn’t get any more cliché than it was in that moment, but it didn’t stop me from sucking in a sharp breath when my eyes fluttered open. We had navigated around the edge of the rock face and were now standing on the edge of a secluded cove, completely separated from the main part of the beach. Chalky cliffs curved around the perimeter, stretching tall against a background of stars. Waves shattered onto the shore in a mess of white froth, and it seemed to be the only place in Walden with any sand at all. Of course, it was more coarse grains mixed with pebbles than tropical paradise, but beautiful nevertheless.
“What is this place?” I asked, dragging my gaze away from the view long enough to look at Daniel. There was a tiny smile across his face, almost content, as if he was pleased to be the one to let me in on the secret.
“The other part of the beach.” He started down the slope, trainers skidding on the grassy patch that led down onto the sand below. “I don’t think anyone else really knows about it apart from the five of us. And now you, of course.”
“It’s amazing,” I breathed.
“We sometimes have barbecues and stuff down here, or we’ll just hang out if the beach is too busy. It’s definitely quieter.”
“No kidding.”
I trailed down the verge after him. With the wind blowing full force, even in the secluded bay, I found myself suddenly very aware I was wearing nothing thicker than linen pyjama bottoms and a jacket. The chill was creeping in, advancing with every gust of cool air.
Daniel soon found a spot on the sand, sinking down onto it. I went to join him.
“So you come here a lot?” It felt strange to break the silence that had begun to settle, like tiny snowflakes accumulating, piling up into a thick layer. The only interruption was the steady sound of unsettled water just metres ahead of us. I watched as each wave fell onto the sand, creeping its way up the beach before retreating just as quickly. “On your own, I mean?”
“Sometimes.” He picked up a handful of sand, letting it run through his fingers. “Just when I need to think.”
The words were on my tongue; I could almost taste them. No matter how far I tried to steer my thoughts away, they always came wandering back to that night. The glassy eyes, the look of hopelessness, the way he’d clung to me like I was the only thing he had to hold onto. I was haunted by the lingering feeling of his hug, of how it had felt to fall asleep listening to his steady heartbeat.
Should I? Shouldn’t I?
“What you needed to think about,” my voice came out hardly louder than a whisper, “was it the same as that other night? The one before I went to London?”
For a painfully long moment, he didn’t say anything. My eyes scanned his face, trying to gauge any sort of reaction, but it remained impassive. I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Why on earth had I dared to bring it up? He’d told me at the time he didn’t want to talk about it; what could possibly be to gain from forcing him into it now?
Just as I was about to apologise, he spoke.
“Are you sure you want to get into this?” he asked. “I mean, it doesn’t exactly make for the happiest conversation in the world.”
“Hey, that doesn’t matter. If you want to talk about it, then I’m here to listen. Promise.”
He smiled then – a small, tentative smile that tipped my heartbeat past overdrive. I could feel it pounding beneath my jacket. “Well, I guess you’ve probably heard it from somebody else by now, but…” He took a deep breath. “Erin and I lost our dad last year.”
“I heard,” I murmured softly.
The ghostly image of the moon was reflected on the water; this was what Daniel seemed to be focusing on to keep his gaze away from me. “It hit me pretty hard,” he admitted. “I mean, he was always the one I was closest to. I could talk to him about anything, you know? We thought the world of each other. Mum’s okay, but we’ve never got on particularly well, even when Dad was still here.”
I nodded, knowing better than to interrupt.
“It wasn’t like it was sudden or anything. He’d been ill for about a year, and even though we didn’t say it out loud… well, we all knew what the end result was going to be. Still, just because you know it’s going to happen… it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Of course not,” I whispered. “It’s your dad, Daniel. It’d never be easy.”
“I thought I was doing okay. I’ve taken over the shop, just like he wanted. That place was his dream. He’d always talked about having his own business, and when he finally got the chance, he was over the moon. Except he only got to enjoy it for a couple of months before he got ill. It crushed him, not being able to work anymore. More than anything else, I think.” He drew a long, deep breath. “It’s been hard, running it almost on my own. But it’s what he would’ve wanted. I have to carry on. For him.”
He reached down and picked up a pebble from the space between us, turning it over in his hands. Then, drawing back his arm to give the throw some leverage, he sent it plummeting into the sea. First skidding expertly along an incoming wave, it soon plunged out of sight into the water below.
“I thought I was doing okay. I thought I was getting used to the fact that he was gone – I was beginning to deal with it, at least. But suddenly it’s been a year and it’s almost the anniversary and… I don’t know. It feels like I’m just coming to realise that maybe I’m not okay.”
It could’ve been a trick of the light, but the glassiness appeared to have returned to his eyes, making them shine with unshed tears. Without thinking, I leaned over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze: the way Nora had done to me countless times before. He looked over in mild surprise, but didn’t pull back.
“You don’t have to be okay,” I told him. “I mean, it’s been a year. Losing your dad, that’s… that’s hardly any time at all.”
“Erin handled it so well,” he said. “She’s so… together, you know what I mean? I feel like a wreck in comparison. Sometimes it’ll just hit me… like it’s only just sunk in that he’s gone. And it scares me. That’s what happened the other night.” He paused, shaking his head. “God, I’m sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to apologise. You’re not a wreck, Daniel. I mean, do you even realise how big this is? It’s not something you can get over in a week. But you’ll get through it, no matter how hard it seems. I promise.”
I squeezed his hand again. He managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I just wish it could’ve been somebody else,” he admitted in a low voice, like he was telling some sort of shameful secret. “I know it’s selfish and horrible and awful but… what did my dad do to deserve to die like that?”
“I know,” I murmured. It sounded strange to hear the words out of someone else’s mouth; for three years now, similar ones had remained hidden deep inside my head. Some I hadn’t even confessed to Nora. I’d lost count of the times I’d lain awake, wishing it could’ve been someone else’s parents who had to be taken like that. I’d wished it upon strangers I passed in the street, our neighbours, even my friends. Anything – anything – to have my mum and dad back. “Trust me. I really do know.”
He looked up, blinking at me through watery eyes. “You do?”
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. The waves seemed to suddenly double in volume, until I realised most of the crashing was coming from inside my head. Torn between two sides, I could already feel the internal soldiers raising their weapons. One half seemed desperate to let the words tumble from my lips, but the other dreaded the idea, yanking my thoughts away from its consideration with surprising violence.
You’ve kept it a secret for this long, it reminded me furiously. You tell, and what happens then? They all know. You become the sad girl with the tragic back story, and there’s no recovering from that one.
I knew that. I knew I was taking a risk, that once the words were out in the open, I couldn’t take them back. I’d no longer be the same person to Daniel – but was that such a bad thing? Didn’t he have the right to know? If sat on his secret beach at a crazy hour of the night wasn’t the right moment to do it, would there ever be one?
So I took a deep breath. And I took the plunge.
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You wanted Flaniel. You got Flaniel. Love you guys.