Eric Macklin

Eric watched the cheap silver charms on Sophie Church's earrings dangle back and forth as she prattled on. It had been so long since he lost track of exactly what she was talking about that he saw no use in trying to figure it out now.

"And that's exactly the problem, I thought! Because without it, how will they have any idea what's going on, you know?" She bobbed her head, awaiting his comment.

"Makes a lot of sense," Eric bluffed, nodding as he slid his lunch around the plate with his fork.

He hoped that the flaxen tendril of hair that fell in front of his eyes as he looked down would obscure the vacant cluelessness in his eyes. Sophie went on, undeterred by his tepid answer; she had always seemed particularly skilled in carrying on conversations without anyone else's input. That quality made her a perfect lunch companion for a day such as this one. He couldn't quite manage to focus on anything.

He'd barely slept 3 hours. In truth, he'd only just woken up in time for work this morning. And although he'd skipped breakfast, and couldn't remember whether or not he'd had dinner the night before, the thought of eating the cold food before him made his stomach churn.

He missed her - his Evie. More than he had any right to.

He had no right to wonder if she missed him too, or to keep track of how long it had been since he last saw her (14 days, 12 hours and 13 minutes). He understood that in his head; and so, he sent a sick note in to work and forced himself into hibernation until his heart understood it too.

He was a grown man! He told himself as he paced the corridors of his flat. A full grown man perfectly capable of shaking off... whatever this was. He imagined what his parents, ever glib and indifferent, would say: "Steady now, Auby; misery's a rather unbecoming emotion."

The isolation only made things worse. Here he was, climbing the walls like an addict, all the while knowing that she was mere doors away. Perhaps she was going as mad as he was, reading and re-reading their texts like relics.

You're my forever, E.

Randomly of you and my stomach's in knots. Thursday can't come quick enough xx

I love you. You're my favourite part of every day <3

He was tempted to delete them. He convinced himself he would have to if he was going to move on, if was truly going to stop lovi- No. That he knew he could never do, no matter how hard he endeavoured.

It felt strange to say that he missed her. 'Missed' wasn't the right word. Eric 'missed' his morning bike ride to work. He 'missed' autumn leaves and summer rain. What he presently felt for Evangeline was something much deeper, more cavernous and inescapable, than any emotion he'd felt before.

When he sat on his little green couch, he longed to open his eyes and see her lithe legs straddling his lap; hear her laughing in his ear as she played with his hair.

When he stood in the hall, he imagined her hand in his, her clear doe-like eyes gazing lovingly at him, ready to go anywhere as long as he was there too.

At night, he felt the warmth of her body entangled with his, her little hands against his chest and her lilting voice humming beside him. When he slept, he saw what they would be if he hadn't let her go. Needless to say, he had tried to avoid sleeping whenever possible.

"Yeah, Doug, doctor says my flu's all cleared up," Eric told his boss, holding his phone with one hand and shrugging on his jacket with another.

"I'll be in first thing this morning."

"Alright, great stuff," came the head's response, "as long as you're doing better, of course."

"Oh, miles better, thanks. Getting back in the flow of things is exactly what I need."

It wasn't a complete lie. He really did think that getting back to work would be good for him.

At home, he tried to remember why he had ended things, telling himself not to look back.

Letting her go was the right thing to do.

It's what's best for Evie.

But being all alone within his four walls only made the primitive voice of possession louder. That voice didn't care 'why' he no longer had his Evie - it only wanted her back in his arms, his home; all else be damned.

"Come on, Eric, focus," he panted, his legs pumping as he pedalled to work with all his remaining might.

The fresh wind hitting his face, Eric purposed to get himself together. Enough moping - he needed to get back to who he was before Evie. Before Thursdays.

And part of 'who he was', he thought, involved conversations like this: indulging colleagues with charming smiles and chitter-chatter. Still distracted, he wasn't quite back in the swing of his charisma yet, but being back at work now, he was sure to get enough practice.

"Anyway," Sophie laughed, gently laying a hand over his as she did intermittently,

"I'm sure you know all about that, being a fellow lover of theatre. I actually saw Phantom of the Opera at the Sondheim Theatre last weekend - have you seen that one?"

"Mhm, think so," Eric grunted.

Sophie smiled, her cheeks tight with glee at having found a point of mutual interest to drag out.

"Yes, well, I thought it was incredibly well done. You know, I read an article about the performance in the The Telegraph, and..."

With a nod of feigned engagement, Eric let the woman go on without interruption, his eyes quickly glazing over, leaving his mind blank.

As had become customary, his blank mind immediately filled itself with images of her. Her soft, freckled skin, and ever-loving look. He had to snap out of it - the entire purpose of getting back to work was snapping out of it.

Just a second more, Eric told himself, holding his breath at the intensity of his imagination. He thought he'd allowed himself a second too many when he began to really see her, a giggling ginger-haired girl sat at a crowded lunch table at the front of the dining hall.

Then, the lithe figure turned slightly, and he saw the sculpted outline of her face, and the rose-tinted lips that he knew like his own name. It was his Evie.

And just like that, all his 'being the man he was before Evie' drivel was out the window. Suddenly he felt years younger, stealing glances at his girl across the cafeteria like a boy in love, tearing his stare away every time she even came close to looking in his direction.

She looked wonderful - better than his most desperate daydream could have painted her.

Her hair was a radiant red, falling in rich, deep waves against her shoulders, left bare in a strappy top. He couldn't hear her over the lunch hall ruckus, but he knew she had laughed when her shoulders shook slightly. He knew she was listening to the table's conversation intently when she swept her hair behind her ears. All Eric had was the outline of the girl, and yet, like the addict he was, he couldn't get enough.

At one moment he was certain a few of the others at the table had spotted him, and he had to turn away quickly, and grin with glee as though he was caught in the most fascinating of conversations. But even then, he longed to hear her voice, decipher her words sweet and witty.

Surely if he could manage to steal a long enough glance, he could imagine it for himself, her honeyed voice in his ear.

When he looked up again, the shy smile on his lips faltered, and his ears burned. He watched her smile and reach a hand up to ruffle the head of a dark-haired boy. Scott Kellerman.

In that instant, a childish possessiveness took over, as he watched the boy's face heat up at her touch. It wasn't his Evie's fault, of course, but he could see it in the angling of the boy's body towards hers, and the smirk of her lips as her quick wit left it and charmed him.

Now it all made sense: Scott's constant defiance, his attempt to out them to Headmaster Madison. The little prick was in love. And his sweet, kind-hearted Evie trusted him. It was clear even from across the room.

A heat surged inside him, and Eric stifled a bitter laugh as he took a swig from the bottled water he had thus far left untouched.

If Scott didn't watch himself, he'd go over there and write him a detention just to get him away from her. Didn't the boy know he stood no chance? No matter how he blushed or wished, that was his Evie. His Evie, who lay on his green couch in his dress shirt, whispering in his ear that she'd love him until the end of time.

Only, she wasn't his Evie anymore... was she?

He'd made sure of it that godforsaken night, leaving her on his front porch banging on his door, whilst he choked back the sounds of the tears spilling violently down his face as he sat on the other side of the door.

When the realisation struck, Eric blanched white as a sheet, feeling moved to hurl from his empty stomach. He had no right to call her his. Not after that. Not any more.

He looked up once again, and although she had moved, his eyes found her titian tresses immediately. She stood below the stairwell, her lithe frame dwarfed by Scott's towering stature as the crowds of teens passed them by.

Somehow, the sight of them made Eric understand what he hadn't been able to drill into his own head in 14 days, 12 hours and 32 minutes:

That was where his Evie belonged. Happy, free to be around whoever she wanted, without having to hide or lie or pretend.

There was a sudden pang of anguish in his stomach as he watched them, exposed under the harsh fluorescent light.

Then and there, as the dinner hall cleared, he decided it: he would not be the thing that stood in the way of Evangeline and her youth, her happiness, her destiny.

He placed his cutlery down, and felt his simmering blood settle. He didn't understand it, but seeing the one person that he wanted the most finally made him see why he couldn't have her.

Perhaps fate would decide differently, and be kinder to him than he was inclined to be to himself. But for now, he had to make his own choice.

"Anyway," Sophie Church sighed, her voice finally re-entering his focus, "this was nice. Will I see you in the staff room later, maybe?"

Eric tore his gaze from his Evie one last time, doing his best to give his unwavering attention to Sophie. This time, it was him who lay his hand over hers.

"Yes, absolutely, Soph. In fact, I think we should do this again some time."