Ludo:Aidan?
Aidan:it’s me. sorry. should’ve said.
Ludo:It’s okay. I asked, so it’s fine. Are you okay?
Aidan:yeah. are u?
Ludo:Yes. It was nice to see you.
Aidan:it was nice to see you too. I don’t live far from where you saw me. do u want to come round some time?
Ludo:When?
Aidan:now?
Ludo:As in... right now?
Aidan:yeah, or as in, whenever ure free
Ludo:I have to walk my dog when the sun goes in. Maybe after?
Aidan:sounds good to me
I’ve never been one for making plans, but as I sit in the fading daylight, waiting for Ludo to knock on my door, I regret not asking him for a rough time. The anticipation is killing me, and despite my housework binge knackering me, I can’t sit still.
I get up and pace the small space that serves as my living room and my bedroom, imagining what I might say to him when he arrives or how I’ll feel if he doesn’t show up. My life up until this point is littered with broken promises and people I’ve let down. Is it karma if Ludo doesn’t come? If he was humouring my text messages?
Why would he do that when he could’ve simply ignored you?
As has become my standard MO, I have no logical answer. Maybe—
A knock at the door startles me out of my fretting. I spin on my good leg and hurry to the hallway, all but ripping the door open. The pessimist in me half expects to find the milkman on the other side, even though I don’t have a fucking milkman, but it’s Ludo, in all his slender dark-eyed glory.
Despite my frantic pacing, I can’t think of a single thing to say, so I stare at him while he shifts uncomfortably, until I remember how to be a functioning human being.
“Sorry. Come in.”
Ludo hesitates, and it’s all I can do not to grab him and tug him over the threshold, but I don’t touch him... not yet. From day one we’ve been weirdly tactile—he laid his hands on me before we ever spoke—but there’s something about him right now, an edginess I suspect has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him, so I let him be. I wait and eventually he comes inside.
I shut the door behind him. The urge to grab him is still there, but I ignore it and force myself to step around him and point to my shitty excuse for a kitchen. “I’ve got tea. Do you want some?”
Ludo bites his lip. His shoulders rise and fall too fast.
I give in and close my fingers around his scarred wrist. “It’s dark and quiet in here, because that’s how I like it, but we can sit in the garden if you like?”
“It’s not that,” Ludo whispers, and he finally meets my gaze. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “It’s not that,” he tries again. “It’s, uh...”
He spins around in a slow circle, gesturing at my barren living space as though I should have a fucking clue what he’s talking about.
I don’t. But I know he’s not happy, and that makes my chest ache. “What can I do to make it better?”
“Make what better?”
“Whatever’s upsetting you.”
Ludo sighs. “I’m not upset. I just got myself in a bit of a state rushing around to get to you, and now I’m here, I’m having a hard time dealing with the fact that this is where you live.”
“It’s shit, I know, but it’s all I can afford.”
