Touch The Sky | ✓

Eleven

The following evening looks – at one stage – to end nowhere near as well as the previous. The day itself goes pretty well, but the butterflies in my stomach as I get ready to go to Terry's flat are a sure sign of what lies ahead.

Yet I push those thoughts out of my mind as I stand outside his apartment door, waiting for him to answer. I'm probably wrong, anyway.

Terry's face breaks out into a smile and he pulls me into a hug. 'Hey, Cora,' he greets me enthusiastically. 'Come in.'

See? Totally wrong.

He leads me to the kitchen, where he's set the dining table already. 'Rory is out tonight, so it's just the two of us.'

I help myself to a glass of water, as he pulls a dish out of the oven and places it on the table.

'That's fine,' I shrug easily. 'Would you like anything to drink?'

He shakes his head quickly. 'I'm okay, thanks. It's just a pasta bake, I hope that's all right. I wasn't really sure what to make you tonight.'

His words feel a little stilted, but I shrug it off. 'No worries. That sounds good,' I return awkwardly, taking a seat at the table, curling my hands around the cool glass.

Although it's a little awkward, the meal isn't bad. Terry tells me about his weekend and I fill him in on last night, as well as telling stories from my time at home.

He engages in conversation, but still seems relatively distracted, laughing and smiling a little absently.

Eventually, I sigh and look at him. 'Terry.'

He meets my gaze, but only for a split-second, almost as though he can predict what I'm going to say next. 'Cora,' he murmurs, but it comes out as a cracked whisper.

'Terry, are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' he deflects immediately, without thought, almost as though he thinks he can just erase all the years we've spent growing up together – as though I can't tell when something is wrong with him.

I raise an eyebrow, observing his tense body language and almost laugh. 'Oh, come on, we both know that I know you far too well for that. Something's wrong, Terry, and it has been for some time now. You know you can talk to me, right? I'm always here to listen to you.'

'I know. Thank you for that, but I'm really fine,' he insists, shutting down on me. He reaches for my empty plate and piles it on top of his, clearly trying to move the conversation on.

I push my hands into my hair in frustration. 'Why are you icing me out, Terrence?' I exclaim exasperatedly. 'You're not telling me what's going on here! Has something happened?'

This time, he lets his walls down, just briefly. His eyes meet mine and they're full of fear, as though he's falling.

I feel it like a punch in the gut. My little brother, terrified of something, and maybe even more terrified of telling me what the problem is.

I move to cover his hand with mine, but he rears back, flinching away from me.

'Terry?'

My voice cuts through the horrible silence and I feel horror slide all over me. Why is he reacting like this?

'I... I, uh...' He stumbles over his words, his face screwed up in concentration, as though he can't figure out what to say or how to say it.

I don't say anything more, worried that I'll break the spell.

'I have a secret.'

There's another long pause and he looks at me, as though I'm now supposed to say something, anything to make it better.