If You Were Here.

Miles and I parted ways, of course only after insisting on walking me home.
“I-I should walk you home,” he stuttered, chewing on his lip.
“Naw, I’m good,” I waved him off good-naturedly. So, we may be becoming friends, but I’m still not to the part where I am okay with being walked home by him. Not that I think he’s a psychopath, just it’s common knowledge to not lead strangers that you've just met to your house.
“N-no I’m not trying to be a stalker, just…it’s late, and there was that asshole earlier…and you’re slightly buzzed I-I think, and it’d be stupid to let you go home by yourself.” He took his hands out of his pockets to articulate his thoughts with twitchy movements in the air. He did have a valid point; no matter how tough I think I am, being alone at night is never a good idea. I tossed my head back and groaned.
“I guess you’re right, but I'm not gonna' let you come all the way…like walk with me to the street I live on. It’s well lit, and if you try anything I know at least 50 ways to incapacitate a person and you’re short and disadvantaged.” I reasoned with him causing him to scoff at me in mock offense.
“I’m only shorter than you by like, two inches!” I only raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘it still counts.’ “Ughhh I swear upon whatever book you consider ‘Holy’ that I will not be a creep and stalk slash assault you.” I nodded my silent approval, and he accompanied me in silence for a while until I assured him that I was close. He stopped me before I could leave.
“What’s up?” I stared at him questioningly, and he looked down at his beat up converse and shuffled around like a nervous seventh grader. Laughing out loud might be considered rude.
“I mean…if we’re g-gonna be friends, like, should we exchange numbers..?” He peered nervously from his dark fringe with one eye. Why didn’t I think of that? Too bad I don’t have my phone…I left that on the counter prior to my retreat a couple hours ago.
“Uh…that’s a good idea, do you have your phone?” I asked almost embarrassed, and I looked down at my shoes and hugged myself around the waist. He clumsily fumbled his phone from his pocket, pressed a few buttons and gave it to me. I carefully put my number and name in the contacts. “Uhm, you’ll have to text me, because I don’t have my phone right now…” I awkwardly handed it back to him, and with a couple nervous smiles we finally parted ways.
Now I stand at the front door to my house, debating whether I should knock. Wait…it’s my house, why should I knock? Because they could be fucking, my mind helpfully supplied. I rolled my eyes, I really don’t like this. What if they moved to the living room? But this is ridiculous; no one can possibly still be fucking for as long as I've been gone. So I opened the door, dad didn't lock it. I could hear the TV from the living room, and across from that the kitchen light was on. Suddenly the TV switched off.
“Bandit?” I heard my dad call to me, and he sounded exhausted. I chose not to answer; I just followed the sudden silence into the living room and leaned against the entrance. He just looked up at me straining to look at me from his horizontal position.
“Hi Dad.” I spat, as I brushed my messed up hair from my face. He groaned as he sat himself up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. We stared each other down, him almost sadly and me with crossed arms and a very displeased expression on my face.
“You cut your hair…” he observed, he hadn't changed since I saw him last Christmas. His hair was a little longer, his natural brown colour that we both shared except he dyed a few bleached chunks toward the back a light blue. I, however, shaved off one side of my head and I left the other side at its past-the-shoulder length. “I like it, especially with the different tones of purple in the uh…longer side. I used to change mine all the time…” he seriously tried casual conversation.
“Thanks.” I still didn't bat an eye. The air went still, and we waited for someone to break it. I wasn't going to be the one. He looked me up and down, as if trying to figure something out.
“Bandit…where were you?” There was something in his voice like he knew, but he didn't want to believe it.
“I went out.” Why do you care? I thought.
“I’m your father, and I’m worried, where did you go?” The light in his eyes changed, it wasn't anger and it wasn't something dark, but it flashed like a knife in the moonlight. I maintained my stance.
“The bar. I needed to clear my head.” I said with an angry wistfulness behind my stone-like posture. He closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh.
“You know how I feel about that.” He kept his eyes closed, and I could see his fingers twitch like he was counting to himself. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, like it wanted to smile. Ha. He’s angry.
“Maybe, but why does that matter? I was trying to bleach this afternoon from my memory.” He tensed; my apathy was getting to him.
“You know why it matters Bandit! Alcohol doesn't solve anything!” His voice rose. This was laughable, and so I snapped.
“Who said I’m gonna end up like you?” And shit. The look in his eyes almost broke through my icy demeanor. All tension in his body plunked to the floor, and rolled right out of the room. His mouth hung open and his eyes lost their ‘knife-in-the-moonlight’ glow. My heart quivered, and my stomach flipped, I would regret this tomorrow, but I wasn't going to let him know that. “Goodnight dad.”
I slipped out of the entrance, and silently made my way to my old room. I remembered that I left my suitcase by the door downstairs and the rest of my bags were in my car that I left in the driveway when I escaped from here all those hours ago. I wasn't going to get anything, everything can wait until tomorrow. I was 11:30 and I needed to sleep before I became too angry with myself.

Notes

That was a slightly filler chapter maybe...I felt it was necessary.
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