I glanced for less than a second into the eyes of Jacob Black before sliding them to the door next to him, just beside his face. I tried to ignore the fact that he had to stoop through the doorway-he was in little danger of actually hitting his head on the frame; but I guess being that close, you couldn’t be too careful. I sighed, and I felt my expression droop somewhat. I saw the corners of his mouth turn down, his eyes still fixed intently upon my face. A part of me wanted him to turn back around, go out the door-or at least stop looking at me. And the other part wanted to stare at his face for the rest of the day; go up and hug him with all my strength, letting my tears flow freely.

I had no choice but to turn my eyes towards him as he slowly approached me. He sat a few feet away from me, still staring-but this time up, into my eyes; all I saw there confused me. I felt sick, though I wasn’t entirely sure why-nerves? So long ago, I would have laughed at that; this boy was once my very best friend. Now, he seemed more of a stranger than when I first met him. Was this my fault or his?

I shook my head, ridding it of the stupid thoughts-what did I care about blame? Why was I trying to blame someone anyway? Things were how they were, and it was probably no one’s fault. Things just happened; people drifted apart.

“How’re you feeling?” He spoke slowly, hesitantly; his nerves seemed to be showing, and in another time I would have been laughing. What’s up with you? Now it seemed as amusing as a funeral. I sighed again, and realised that I was starting to sound like one of those sofas that was sat on far too much. And then I realised that I should think of better analogies.

I looked straight into his eyes, not saying a word; he nodded, as though in sympathy. A surge of anger and impatience flooded me-how could he know how I was feeling?

Then I remembered everything and I looked away, guilt overwhelming me, making me feel sicker than I could possibly imagine. He reached out to touch my arm, then seemed to think better of it, and withdrew. I wanted him to talk, even if it was just mindless babble. I needed something to drown out what I was thinking feeling. I needed someone to talk to, even about the most insignificant things.

“So, I was working down in the garage, and-“

“The garage?” I smiled inside, despite my confusion. I swear that boy could read my mind.

“Yeah. Oh, Charlie didn’t tell you? I built a garage. You know that shed? Yeah, that’s it. Took a while, I’ll admit, and it’s not exactly top of the market. But still…”

“Billie happy?” His face darkened, his eyes lowered to the ground. I felt like screaming with pain and guilt as I realised. “I am so, so, so sorry Jacob.” He nodded slowly, carefully. I climbed off my chair, down to the floor, and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back, gentle despite his strength, and I didn’t even realised that this was the first proper hug I’d had since I could remember. I realised that tears were, once again, rolling down my face-and judging by the moisture on my shoulder, Jacob was getting a bit over-emotional too.

After a few minutes of just sitting there like that, I laughed quietly, and pulled away, wiping first my eyes and then his. He smiled up at me, and continued;

“But yeah, so I was in the garage…”