fictionpeaces

mermaid

Mon, 13 May 2013 17:45:56 -0400

She always grew out her wavy hair, never wanting it to be short. She brushed it every night with an immense amount of care.

Her favorite Disney movie was The Little Mermaid, and she wished she could be a mermaid princess too.

She loved being in the water, and could swim for hours. It’s reached the point where her own family calls her the mermaid when bragging to their friends about whatever insubstantial accomplishment she’d fulfilled recently.

Sometimes, when she’s swimming, it feels like her legs become one single limb and it’s almost like she’s breathing in.

She doesn’t even think twice about going back to how she was, even when her family cries for her to come back.

of tepid feelings and bittersweet cocoa

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 18:53:15 -0400

He has this neck. Absolutely eye-catching. He has a habit of scratching the side of it, stretching it as he does and it makes her breath catch.

He’s tentative too. A slow grin, twinkling eyes and she knows he’s greatly amused and enjoying himself. She wants to cause that. Be the cause of that. Have him coax that response out of her, see what it’s like, what he’s feeling.

This is an ever present affectation of her being. They’re good friends, know a lot about each other. He talks to her, sits with her, laughs with her, all fairly often. They know each other and are good friends, to/for each other.

But friendship can be cruel.

She studies in the library during her breaks, wanting to excel. Sometimes he goes there just to find her, to endear her into getting coffee with him. He never dares call her.

So when she sees his number on her screen as she sits between the stacks of books, her heart falters.

Answering is wise, she figures. It’s making noise and this is a library. Does so with a gulp.

“Coffee?” he asks, his voice velveteen whisper.

“Um,” and she glances around her, looking at nothing in particular. The tiles beneath her are so speckled.

“Won’t you? This time is important.”

Her hearts reacts involuntarily and she feels polar emotions at once. Irrationally and nonsensibly.

She walks slowly, letting her strides travel through her racing thoughts, both frantic and tepid. Her feelings are jumbled and confused, thoughts coming out of her feet, emotions travelling out through her hands. What and why are the only words she can latch onto, and even that is like trying to catch water.

His usual and favorite coffee place sells nothing she likes, so she settles for hot chocolate most of the time. The first few times, before she started becoming aware of specific parts of him like the neck and the hands and the words, before she became aware of the actions and the emotions he tried not to show, she’d have to be dragged to get coffee. He’d bribe her and offer to pay and only then she’d cave. Ever since he’d pull out a ten to pay for both drinks, his fingers (those lovely fingers) sliding along the surface of the crinkled bill to smooth the edges. His eyes would turn to her with a delighted smile when he’d receive his change and he’d start to say things, like how the dimes and nickels accumulating were worth it to him because with them he always knew she’d agreed to come with him.

She’d brought extra money today though. Intuitively thought she’d need it today. Her fingers grab for it in her pocket and squeeze.

Her heart hits her so hard, over and over.

She walks into the coffee shop, smelling the lingering bitterness in the air and immediately spots him at the table by the window, two drinks waiting.

Her hand unclenches, her chest releases a little. He spots her and smiles with his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she breathes out, easing into the seat across him.

“Hot chocolate with the cool foam design, see how I know?” he says with pride.

She nearly gasps at the heart design. “Yeah,” she meekly says.

“You were studying right?” Waits for her nod before continuing, “Sorry about calling then. I would’ve stopped by like usual but I wasn’t on campus this morning.” Scratches his neck, stretching it, and it’s getting harder for her to breathe.

“That’s fine.” Reaches out, grips the mug and takes a sip, burns her tongue.

She keeps her eyes on him as he takes a sip of his own frothy sweet drink, the smile that remains on his face when he swallows. And when he leans in a conspiring manner, she feels like she’s on the brink. “I need to tell you something.”

Her eyes are wide. “Okay.”

When he smiles, it goes up to his eyes and they twinkle and it fascinates her, because one eye crinkles a little more than the other and she wants to place her thumb on the temple next to it, feel the stretch of the skin there. She wants him to take comfort in the action, wants to be able to offer him that along with the all the eye-crinkling in the world.

“I think I’m in love.”

Clank, as she nearly drops the mug onto the table. It processes slowly, instantaneously. In love, smiles abound because of another. “… Oh.”

He’s undeterred, unaware of what he’s caused. Good, she would never want him to know.

“I’ve never really felt like this too? I don’t even know how it’s happening to me right now.” His words are quiet little mumbles filled with wonder that are absolutely sweet and endearing and if it wasn’t for the lens of hurt she’s seeing through, she’s positive they’d be added to the list of why and what she –

No. Can’t be said, not now.

But she can’t hear more of this, so she stands quickly, latches a hand onto her cheek before turning and running out, slapping the money onto the table.

It’s very hard to explain what happens after. Because she knows she runs and she knows she ends up studying for the exam she writes the next day but she also knows she ignores countless text messages and phone calls and finds a new place to study in fear of him appearing and demanding and –

So time passes, and it doesn’t get particularly easy. Not really. Because he was a lot more than his neck to her, a lot more than the hot chocolate he always paid for. There’s this weight she notices, one she’s been carrying but she doesn’t know when it first appeared, somewhere in the lungs, but she constantly needs to suppress it so she doesn’t end up spilling tears.

It grows. Becomes a suppression of screams. Takes over for a little while at the same time as all her term papers do and suddenly she’s on fast forward, going from point A to point B so quickly she doesn’t realize she puts herself exactly where he can find her.

Of course he does. Of course he finds her and corners her and of course it hits her hard. He sits beside her, firm and frowning and angry, places a hand on her arm and demands for an explanation.

Demands for an explanation because he’s filled with built up emotions, ones she’s feeling as well and as much as she knows she can’t it’s all she wants to just tell him if only to be able to breathe a little easier.

But then she thinks of the way he smiled when he said he was in love and she thought about his hand on his neck and how she didn’t want to take that away from him.

The hand atop her forearm squeezes and she bites down on her lip, shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because if I say it, things will ruin.”

He whispers, “If you stop talking to me, things will ruin too.”

“But I need to, don’t you get that? Don’t you get that I need to not be around you so I can let you have what you want? Take myself out of the equation so I can feel okay about being your friend instead of hoping for more, don’t you get that?”

Adamantly he stares and viciously she quivers. He says, “And why aren’t you feeling okay?” because he seems to know while needing her to say it out loud.

“Because. To me, you aren’t just a friend. You’re more. And I want more than just friendship, only I can’t have that so if you can please just leave me be.”

And he leaves, just like she asks, and she forces herself to get caught up in going from point A to point B.

If only she could know how to get there.

Paradox

Sat, 09 Mar 2013 02:00:27 -0500

Reality can try

To scathe you

leave a mark

Make you feel the lingering ink stains of frustration

And it can succeed

Can cover you permanently.

And if the ink stains were thick

Encompassing all of you

No more skin to be seen

Would you not have to

Look between the cracks

To find the great reality?

The cover is the obstacle

What’s hidden is the outcome

And reality flounders.

Paradox.

désespoir.

Sun, 17 Feb 2013 20:16:28 -0500

At fourteen, he hated everything and everyone but the smaller hands.

At seventeen, he hates himself for finding a new set of small hands to fit in his own.

At fourteen, he stood beside a smaller figure, thinking the owner of the tiny hand in his was as good as it would get for him.

At seventeen, he stares at the girl with the overbearing dreams and wonders if he’s one to judge.

At fourteen, he’d been hit and burned and scarred countless times by his “father” for being a waste of valuable resources.

At seventeen, he’s brought into the empty home with the desolate rooms and the girl can only apologize for her lack of food.

At fourteen, he locked the smaller hands into their bedroom so they wouldn’t have to see their big brother receiving a cigarette burn to the wrist.

At seventeen, he stands beside the girl as she locks them both away into a private hub where nobody and no piece of information can get in or out.

At fourteen, he was determined to keep his brother safe, never mind his own dreams.

At seventeen, he’s already found the reality of his dream and how it was borderline horrific a majority of the time.

At fourteen, he refused to acknowledge the rush he felt during music class until an up-and-coming music producer from an unknown network decided to take a shot on him.

At seventeen, he refuses to acknowledge his background.

At fourteen, he hated everything and everyone but the smaller hands.

At seventeen, he hates himself for finding a new set of small hands to fit in his own.

At fourteen, he used to stare into wide eyes soaring with dreams every time big brother was around.

At seventeen, he stares into eyes that comfort him and almost embrace him when he scathingly tells them of all he has done, the hands he abandoned, the privacy he no longer has, the polar feelings for the people whose devotion brought him so far. For his face for becoming the deciding factor of whether he’s worth it or not.

At fourteen he was another person’s hope.

At seventeen, he can’t pinpoint a single shred of hope in his strenuous life. Until he knows her and feels accepted and understood by her for everything he himself is. It makes him think it might not be so bad to become accustomed to newer hands within his grip. But he realizes it’s a lie because one ten-minute drive away is his childhood life complete with a person he desperately aches to see but knows wants nothing to do with him.

At fourteen, he was heroic.

At seventeen, he’s merely a coward.

delicate.

Mon, 04 Feb 2013 22:43:30 -0500

“They say the beginning of togetherness is supposed to be a gleeful experience. Attached to the hip, unaware of other entities. They don’t feel that, or they don’t know if they do.”

The curtains of her bedroom were shut closed, enabling them to hide in the shadows contently. Out there, they would shout his name in adoration and hers as a death sentence. Inside, out of sight, away from the masses, in private was better.

They didn’t get days like this very often. Downtime wasn’t an existence in his world, while it almost completely made up hers. She showed him the ropes, showed him how to settle his body down onto the bed and have it be okay with matching his heartbeat to the music’s rhythm rather than his own body’s. Dancers no longer know how to thoughtlessly enjoy a song, she muses.

They say the beginning of togetherness is supposed to be a gleeful experience. Attached to the hip, unaware of other entities. They don’t feel that, or they don’t know if they do. Their privacy makes it so they’re only focused on the other, nothing else. No showing off their togetherness involved. Simply them on a bed listening to the same song, smiling mirroring smiles even though they’re both looking at the ceiling.

Their positions are constantly changing. At the moment, she’s sitting cross-legged while he lies on his side. Her hand’s following the lines of his thigh through his jeans, a rhythmic lull in the mid-afternoon siesta. She finds it so funny that he always shows up in his jeans. Really, they’ve reached the point where he should be arriving in sweats but the boy refuses. She wonders if he takes his time to look good just to get over here, and the thought warms her cheeks.

“You’re going to make me fall asleep,” he mumbles and his navy colored eyes are looking darker than usual.

A cheek lifts as she continues her caress. “You can.”

“No. I don’t …” Hesitation, and she’s unaccustomed to it. He’s been completely forthright in his pursuit so far. Her hand stops in its path. He takes an entire minute to make himself say the thing that’s somehow daunting, and when he does, he’s vulnerable.

“It took so long to get to here,” is mumbled, “Here where I can be comfortable that you’re now okay with me. That you’re feeling the same. I’d like to be aware of it for a little longer.”

He’s this tall, surprising thing with attention thrusted onto him in spades, girls who chant his name daily and physically follow his every move, but she can only view him as needy of her. Nobody else had ever wanted to view her in such a way.

“Okay,” is all she says, but she lies beside him, head resting on the same pillow.

He regards her, clear eyes open for her oncoming thoughts. In response, she extends her fingers, seeking out his wrist. They find his palm instead, so she settles for the feeling of the closure of his fingers on her knuckles.

“Would you like … to know why though?”

She can hear his breath catch. His eyes widen the slightest bit. His fingers tighten their grip. He puts on his big act that he knew they would happen yet she sees. He doubts himself far more than most others would ever begin to suspect. It hurts to know he felt that way regarding her. Almost, because she can rectify it.

“You kind of barreled into me. I hadn’t liked that at the time. I feel differently now, though. Like it was necessary. There was just,” she pauses to contemplate the way she’d say what was all over her brain, everywhere on her mind, all at once in a continuous stream. “There was something … something about your headstart approach that was tender. Delicate. Enough for me to be able to accept it, to slow down. Feel it anytime you were around.”

She regards him gently. “Enough for my opinion to change.”

He’s grinning with a lot of pride. She lets him have it this time.

She feels his leg land over hers, the roles inverting as his hand followed the same trail she’d explored with her hand earlier. Goosebumps bloom, like his touch is the sun and her skin in need of it to breathe. Her eyelashes were petals but heavy. They could only comfortably rest over her cheekbones.

His hand lends to the mess he’s making of her, fitting itself on the curve of her waist, in a nook suited to it. His breath ghosts over her lips as he mumbles a million thanks.

Opinions were treacherous to him. This is probably the first thing she learned. He never gets away with anything because every action initiates a thought in response. His job requires him to receive positive thoughts.

When his lips brush against her cheek, she should’ve known that he craved hers the most.

Cold Comfort

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 23:35:25 -0500

The days that follow are turmoil, utterly. Everyone acts no differently at school, speaking of shoes on sale immediately after. But they dare to pretend that they cared by making his locker a memorial, and Drew has to swallow bile every time he walks past it.

Until the day he walks past and sees that someone had written, in bold black ink, “But you can’t hate the dead, so you worship it instead.”

That day he throws up, incapable of simply swallowing the bile as he continues on his way.

The guys are furious. Insulted. Their oldest won’t speak but the others are screaming at one another. Drew drops his chin to his knees as his grip around them tightens. With his eyes he begs for something to be said, to make them stop but it doesn’t come and Drew feels anxiety like the others feel anger.

The event passes after a few days. No one’s exactly happy but they’re managing. They don’t look each other in the eye. Well Drew doesn’t, so technically he wouldn’t know. But he doesn’t think he’s far off from the truth.

In class one day, the teacher assigns them partners. Drew’s definitely not pleased that he got his girl as a partner. He’d been dreading partnering up with one of the guys but this seems infinitely worse. The rumor mill claims she’d gone sullen after the event. Somewhat off what she used to be. And he knows he’d make her feel awful. It’s his nature, and if she somehow got in a worser mood because of him, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle the guilt in knowing that he must be looking at them, watching his so-called light grow upset.

Silence is the alternative.

He grunts in acknowledgment when she asks to begin their work, merely nods yes anytime she asks to make sure her answer’s right despite not knowing what it was they’re doing. When she figures it out, she bites her lip and contemplates something before seemingly deciding and pushes her paper over to him, asking this time to tell her the truth.

He only notices her handwriting. Its familiarity hits him so hard, he immediately feels like puking.

It didn’t add up. How does someone think that, write that on his memorial-locker when they spent the last few days of his life chained to his hip?

A voice in his head whispers at him how he feels the same way after spending the last ten years being his best friend, and Drew pushes his way out of the classroom, into the bathroom and simply unloads.

Afterwards, he sees her outside and he confronts her. She doesn’t deny it. She simply looks up at him in horror. Of course he made her upset, of course he ended up doing so anyway. And just the knowledge that he was watching from wherever the fuck he was, down below or up above, the way he’d been watching throughout their childhood when Drew pushed himself past regular limits for him, making his fingers bleed just to be able to play the guitar with him, just to make a place for himself alongside him, caused Drew to lean in and whisper so quietly he hoped he couldn’t hear –

“I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

State of Grace

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 04:48:36 -0500

Listen to this as you read.

“Identification of him happens without her being conscious of it. If he enters the room she’s in she swears she can feel his presence like she’d felt his skin.”

Error – First Part.

Bizarre described him when he sat on her childhood bed. So out of place. Dark haired and fair skinned with eyes a potent dark blue that smiled brighter than his pearly whites anytime he looked down at her. He was too big. His folded limbs took up half the space and she had to curl up in a ball to properly lie down.

“And I never saw you coming.”

She still lies in a ball when he’s no longer there. She hasn’t changed since he left, but feels undoubtedly different than before he entered her world.

“And I’ll never be the same.”

He stood there. He simply stood there when he explained it to her. He never moved when he asked what she was thinking.

She looked up and saw diluted emotion in his eyes.

When he asks her if she’s alright, she merely states: “You’re removing yourself from the right to ask me about my present feelings, so I’ll give you the ones from our past; I fell in love with you.”

Her strides are even, her shoulders straight. Her vision is clear and her breaths rhythmic. It’s all just as strong as the feeling of her chest shattering and the loneliness of the gaps between her fingers.

“So you were never a saint.”

Offbeat – Second Part.

Identification of him happens without her being conscious of it. If he enters the room she’s in she swears she can feel his presence like she’d felt his skin.

“You come around and the armor falls.”

She knows she’s seen too. His feet stutter, his words trip. He’s thrown off much the same way she is.

They both make nothing of it.

“Pierce the room like a cannonball.”

Defeat – Third Part.

“You saw me as perfect.”

Startled hearts make for delayed reactions. Blinking eyes feel sudden moisture. Her own state of consciousness lacks physical feeling due to the swell of emotions.

“You made me feel pressure. I needed you to know I wasn’t.”

“You succeeded.”

Her thoughts are manifestations and so are her words only she doesn’t find the distinctions in time to be in control.

“You have flaws and yet you’re perfect. I always saw that. I can explain it now, love. I can explain it now.”

Love was never a word they’d uttered. Not as descriptions of sentiments for one another.

She grabs hold of her movements and swivels her gaze to hook it onto his desolate smiling eyes.

“This is the worthwhile fight.”

Repair – Fourth Part.

How do I regain your trust?

His bed is larger than hers. His hands are larger than hers. His growth is overwhelming to her frailty.

Make me know you feel equally what I feel, is her offering.

His smile is wider than hers. His gaze more capable in making her heartbeat feel hotter.

I’m bad with words. But I’ll try to explain it all, he says.

His hope is far more vivid than her hesitations.

“Love is a ruthless game.”

Your words are blemishes when you’re upset, and they’re vitamins when you’re joyful. You move and I feel like I can’t be the same person as the moment before, I’ve experienced something too great. You look at me and I feel all your thoughts wholeheartedly, only I can’t decipher them.

“Unless you play it good and right.”

My curiosity for them, for you, has me addicted in a way that leaves me aching when I cross the line. All of me wants to be that best me you’ve imagined but when it realizes it can’t be, it goes the other way entirely and acts cowardly.

“These are the hands of fate.”

Only there’s withdrawal that occurs, and a stark reality is all I envision and knowledge of your good self, your inherent ability to understand propels me to act selfishly. So here I am.

“You’re my Achilles heel.”

The gaps between her fingers lose the empty space they contain along with her loneliness.

Earnest words allow for her to see and breathe beauty. Deep, dark blue welcomes her like the most tentative of caresses.

“This is the golden age of something good and right and real.”

Serenity – Fifth Part.

Initially she would wear the pain he’d inflicted as pins on her lapels.

“And I’ve loved in shades of wrong.”

Wary but open, she welcomed him like the trees welcomed winter.

He sees it, his pins and casually reaches over to take them onto his own clothing. He chooses to wear the pain for her, aware that it is hers but the prickling burden shouldn’t be.

“We learn to live with the pain.”

Cherishing hands are commonalities soon enough. Echoing laughter tattoos itself inside her thoughts, like a powerful wave of water, knocking her off guard for enough time for the pin to be forgotten. For enough time for her to realize they aren’t aware of when it promptly fell off, immersed in the tide as it rises and falls like his chest when he sleeps.

“But this love is brave and wild.”

“This is a state of grace.”

Holy Ground

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 00:30:09 -0500

The bed was their castle, his house their kingdom. All to themselves, they took command of it all by taking advantage and doing nothing. Sleeping was their first priority; the comforting close proximity wasn’t a commonality for them yet. It was still a luxury they intended to enjoy to their fullest capacity.

When one woke up, so did the other. Movements so slow yet still shocking making eyelids droop open. Then they visited their land and sought food, sustenance to give them energy. He began his teasing act in the kitchen, constantly putting his lips close to hers but never letting them touch. Intense eyes gentle when they’re looking in hers and it makes her feel like they’re mismatched in their togetherness. But there was a togetherness and that in and of itself made her feel a warm happiness, like drinking sweetened hot coffees.

He finally kisses her when they’ve journeyed to the living room, where they eat their cream cheese bagels and he gently dabs a finger on the speck that’s landed on her upper lip. When it’s gone, that’s when he leans in and it was so small it made her feel all of it, everything.

He takes another bite and she studies his profile, wondering about the structure of his nose and how it got to be so straight and high and ideal. She decides it’s a love of hers, a newfound aspect of this person she was now effortlessly connected to. This is when he catches her eye and raises an eyebrow, like he wants to know which part of him she’s fantasizing about now.

His silent sass is too cute for her to take seriously and she just hugs him, fitting her cheek in the crook of his neck.

Then the food vanishes and their focus changes. In their kingdom, it’s all on display, so they can kiss without a reaction of some sort. So they do, lazily and comfortably but it still manages to be perfect and intense, with all parts of her reacting.

Ironically, this is when she feels herself shiver. A frown mars his face as he pulls back and she gets off his lap to wrap the nearest throw blanket around herself. A royal decree is issued to warm the kingdom up and the King takes it upon himself to see it through. Twenty minutes later she finds herself under a pillow fort, blankets encapsulating them with his perfect nose brushing against hers tentatively.

Of course, the fort crumbles within ten minutes, and they seek refuge in the safety of their castle. The mess is still in the kingdom but they’ll take care of it later. What’s later to them, when there’s so much now to enjoy?

The truth of the matter is that their kingdom is where they’re their happiest. And the most liberated. No expectations exist for one another; in each other’s eye every unexpected movement and word uttered and breath taken is the expectation and it’s always a delightful surprise. Within the kingdom there’s never anything that breaks and she wonders if maybe it’s because if something were to break, it would be the kingdom itself?

But the truth is, their kingdom is dependent on them to function. Wherever they went, it shadowed behind. They were the other’s crown and everyone saw the kingdom when their fingers were linked together in the streets. And that mismatched togetherness of a nomadic kingdom is exactly how they wanted it.

Soaring

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 10:51:54 -0400

There was a boy at the park, slouched on a bench, eyes never leaving a single figure running around aimlessly.

That figure, whose life is his own, completely and wholeheartedly. That younger boy, who was only five years old and already knew more than the one watching him could ever hope to know. Such as the answers to simple questions like, “Who is my mother? Who is my father?”

In that moment, the little boy let out a blissful laugh and the older felt his heart pang. In his eyes, he could only see the little boy smiling as he turned and waved gleefully, shouting out, “Hi Big Brother!”

He momentarily felt so happy to see the enthusiasm, knowing it would not last. In fact, it was just about to end; the two were to be on their way home. Otherwise, their father wouldn’t be happy with them, and the boy couldn’t have the younger’s tearful face on his conscious. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“You’re not even my son,” their father had spat the last time, after the younger of the two had fallen asleep. “How dare you think you know better for him, for this family, when you’re not even a part of it.”

He was fourteen and felt completely at a loss. Even in school, when the students continuously praised him for his cute shy demeanor and face. It wasn’t enough to be tangible to him; there was no place that was actually filling him with that comfortable sense of security that was home. There was nothing making him feel like he was soaring and uplifted. Only fleetingly did he feel it, only when that little boy would smile up and shout out for his older brother to recognize him, and even then, there was always something under the surface making him feel angry. Otherwise, with parents who’d adopted him only to treat him like a waste of space the moment they conceived a child of their own and a school which didn’t interest him at all, he considered it a miracle when he eventually found something he was good at.

Which is why, when a flyer was put up at his school about a month later informing students about an audition being held in their auditorium for a new, beginning network looking for young fresh faces and talented voices, he knew he absolutely had to try out. If singing was all he was truly, completely happy about in his life, then he would pursue it. “And your brother,” he reminded himself, “He makes you happy too,” and he did.

But one year later, when he was asked about the feeling he’d felt when he’d successfully passed the audition, he answered, “It was the happiest moment in my life. It felt like I was soaring.”

a Scribble

Wed, 05 Sep 2012 23:21:02 -0400

“The very things that make you, your thoughts … they’re slowly becoming my everything, alright?”

“How do you know if I’m telling you them? What if I’m changing them or lying?”

“Then I guess this is trust. I have no way of knowing if what you’re telling me are your actual thoughts. So I trust that you are. Because letting me in on the one thing you can say is wholeheartedly yours is a privilege, I know it’ll take quite a bit for you to trust me. However I think me putting my trust in you is one way to getting to know your heart and where it lies, and that’s through your thoughts.”

“You’ve backed me into a corner now. I’ll feel guilty about lying.”

“So don’t lie. Just tell me honestly how you feel in return.”

“What if I’m fearful? What if I’m afraid of causing pain?”

“If it’s to me, it isn’t any of your concern. The pain would be worth it. If it’s to you, the answer is simple; it won’t be on my account.”

“Are you sure? The thoughts I have … they’re bad. Most of the time they’re really, really bad and I really can’t help it.”

“They’re still yours. For that reason I want to know, if only to take some of your burden off of your shoulders and onto mine. That way we could go through it together.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”

To You..

Tue, 04 Sep 2012 17:42:32 -0400

I just wanted to say to everyone who’s taken the time to read, to like or even reblog or just plain follow me, thank you so much! It’s quite incredible to me and I really appreciate it, so really thank you!

Wish (I Clearly Love You)

Sat, 01 Sep 2012 22:55:04 -0400

I wish someone would be
Able to make me feel better
For ~~I’ve~~ forgotten how to do it
Myself at the moment.

Or maybe ~~I’m~~ just so used to doing it
alone, so it doesn’t really work anymore
Which is a sad thought, really
Someone else took ~~your~~ happiness away

~~You~~ can’t take it back yourself
So ~~you’re~~ asking someone to bring it
Back for ~~you~~, Why would they do so
Why would they do anything for ~~you~~,

When ~~you~~ can’t do anything
For yourself.
I wish I didn’t feel so
Low and small when I should be ~~grand~~

Too bad I can’t help it
I suppose it’s the way I am
The way ~~I’m~~ controlled by ~~you~~
That kind of makes me ~~hate you~~,

So much more than I hate
Certain parts of myself
The parts ~~you~~ yourself Have made me
Hate, So I guess joke’s on ~~You~~.

I still wish ~~you~~ weren’t around
So I could feel better.

Hourglass - Part 3

Sat, 01 Sep 2012 01:32:00 -0400

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD

“Well … this is my place.”

She smiled at the small apartment before her, taking in every detail. It was wholeheartedly his, so completely his in every single way. It wasn’t big, but he was so minimalist with his things that there was barely any clutter. Everything was neat, from the tiny one-person kitchen to the equally tiny living room, which could only fit a loveseat, a coffee table, and a TV. “All of it suits you. All of it.”

“Yeah?” he asked as he kicked the door closed behind them.

“Mm, I pretty much feel at home,” she joked, watching him saunter to the small kitchen and dropping their bags onto his counter.

“You can come in you know. Please, get comfortable.” Anthony insisted as he began sorting through the candy, emptying a pack of gummy worms in to a bowl.

She grinned bashfully. “Okay,” before skipping to the counter and grabbing the already-full bowl and working a gummy worm into her mouth. “So I’m just going to be there,” she pointed to his living room, “While you get everything else set up.”

Anthony pouted cutely. “Fine. But don’t finish all the gummy worms!”

With a mischievous smile, Lacey launched herself on the moan-worthy, comfortable looking loveseat, stretching her legs out as she sighed contently. As she popped another gummy worm in her mouth, she tossed a look over her shoulder, only to find Anthony watching her, a small smile on his face.

Without realizing, her face broke out into a wide smile. “What?”

Anthony’s smile never faltered as he shrugged, explaining, “You’re in my apartment in New York with me. It’s kind of surreal is all.”

“I guess it is. You know what else is surreal? Your insane movie collection. I can’t believe you lugged that with you here.” Her eyes flitted over the stack, going over each movie title with interest. It was the only part of the room that seemed messy, the movies piled crookedly.

“Of course!” she heard Anthony call out indignantly. “Never. Insult. My movie collection.”

“I would never,” she deadpanned. He came over with the candy bowls then, laying them all out on the coffee table before making another trip to the kitchen. She waited quietly, chewing mindlessly on the sugary treats before her.

“We also can’t forget this,” Lacey heard him say as he entered the room once more, putting a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, a couple cans of cola, and two glasses on the table. “May we begin the deterioration of our stomachs?”

“We may.”

They clinked glasses before taking their first gulps, chasing them down with Twizzlers and giddy laughter.

Which is pretty much how the night progressed for a solid hour. Before they knew it, they’d lost their inhibitions, too caught up in the dizzy haze and giddiness clogging their minds to fully be aware of what they were doing.

#2. SIXTEEN YEARS OLD.

“Let’s play Sleeping Beauty.”

“Anthony. We’re almost seventeen, why are you suddenly revisiting being eight?”

“Trust me, it’ll be fun!”

“But see, you’re smirking. So I know I shouldn’t trust you …”

“Don’t you like me?”

“It was bound to come out sooner or later but …”

“Shut up. If you didn’t like me you wouldn’t make that soft sigh every time I kiss you.”

“Eh?! Please, what soft sigh … !”

“Oh, do you need me to show you?”

“Actually yes I do——that wasn’t fair.”

“And yet, you sighed. So, Sleeping Beauty?”

“Are you gonna make me wear some hideous princess gown or something?”

“Nope.”

“Then what is this game?”

“Well, we get to recreate the best scenes from the movie, obviously. Sans poufy gown.”

“Oh. I see where this is going.”

“Right. So I think, and I can legitimately get any of your girl friends to agree with me on this, but the best scene in the movie is the scene where the prince wakes the princess up.”

“Knew it.”

“And I’d say we’d really find this activity enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable? My God, you’re really selling this one hard.”

“Come on, I want to try it! Pretend to be sleeping.”

“No!”

“Seriously? You’re actually saying no to being kissed by me.”

“Well, yes! Oh don’t look so insulted, that’s not why idiot. I just disagree, I don’t really like that scene.”

“Really now.”

“Why does she have to be the one sleeping? Why can’t it be the princes that need saving for once?”

“Oh my God, fine. I’ll be the one sleeping.”

“Okay. Go. Lie down, come on!”

“Let me just get comfortable, geez.”

“You and your comfort, such an unnecessary luxury. Oh, okay yeah you can stop the smirk and the casual pointing at the lips now, I got it, it’s my cue.”

“Mmm. And magically, he awoke.”

“Wow. The ending was so powerful.”

“You know what else is powerful?”

“Your ego?”

“Precisely.”

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD.

“Wake up sleeping beauty.”

Lacey’s eyes flew open at the sensation of somebody else’s lips on hers.

Anthony was smiling down at her.

“Wh-what?” She made to sit up but the realization that her head was pounding made her sink further into her pillow with a groan. “Oh my God, I feel like shit.”

“Mm, same. Combination of eating too much candy and drinking too much.” But from what she could see, Anthony looked just fine, lying on his side, head rested on his outstretched arm.

Her thoughts were scattered, brain filled with many questions, but she grasped onto one and voiced it aloud. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Yes,” he answered confidently.

She grabbed another one of her thoughts. “Are you actually hungover?”

He rubbed an eye and fell on his back. “Not as badly as you. You drank way more than me,” he said before peering up at her with his sleepy eyes.

His sleepy eyes, all warm drizzled honey, used to always throw her completely off track. To her horror, she discovered age didn’t give her immunity to that particular trick of his. “U-um.”

Having realized what he’d done, he smiled sheepishly, eyes drifting closed. “No more questions, let’s just sleep.”

And he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Without realizing it, her heart was beating in a manner so similar to when she was seventeen, waking up in the exact same position the morning after their first time together.

“Anthony!” Lacey cried before tearing herself away from his warm embrace. She sat up, pushing through the terrible headache that was telling her to lie back in his arms and sleep. “What did we do last night?”

Looking a bit disgruntled, he pushed himself up into a seated position. She immediately felt relief when his blanket fell from where it was pooled around their necks; they were fully clothed.

“We … You don’t remember?”

“Clearly I don’t,” she stated, anxiety filling her chest. This wasn’t right.

The wounded look on his face made her cringe. “What did I do?” she questioned, knowing she must’ve done something to get him acting so affectionately.

“You told me you still loved me,” he said slowly, sleepy eyes firmly on hers. “You said specifically you never could love anybody else like how you loved me, but that you’d tried. And then …”

He tentatively reached forward to grab her hand. “You started crying,” he admitted.

Wide-eyed, she stared, willing him to say why, fearing the confession she might’ve made the night before.

Instead of directly answering, however he furrowed his brows at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Responsively, she froze. “Oh God. That’s what I told you?”

“You never could keep your words in when inebriated.”

“Shit,” she murmured, pulling her hand away from him and rubbing her forehead.

“Whoever he was, he wasn’t worth your time,” Anthony stated.

Lacey glared. “He cheated. You left.”

She watched as he tensed, eyes falling to the crumpled bed sheets where he reached a finger to start tracing random patterns in order to smooth out the bumps. “I thought we were done with that.”

She sighed. “It’s just …” Gingerly she pressed on. “We’re not done talking about it, are we?”

He stilled his movements, eyes returning to her face. She watched him watch her until he broke their silence. “To be honest, I was hoping we were.”

“I know,” she said quietly, wringing her fingers where they rested in her lap.

His eyes landed on the motion and he sighed. “Tell me what you’re thinking. You only do that,” he nodded at her hands, “When your thoughts are festering into future argument topics.”

Her teeth latched onto her lip and she furrowed her brows. “Your apartment,” she blurted out finally.

Anthony glanced around it in confusion. “What about it?”

“It’s just. This city, it’s very intimidating. Like, I can’t even walk outside without having someone bump into me because they’re in such a rush. People talk about New York like it’s where miracles happen but really … so far all I’ve felt is this place suck the life out of me. But now, in here, I felt so much better, so much more relieved. Like, I don’t even feel this way in my own apartment.”

“You’re always welcome here,” he said immediately and they shared a brief look. He smiled a wry smile before mumbling, “… Or am I not supposed to say that?”

She gave him an apologetic expression as her answer. “I know I’m going to want to lean on you. Hell, I already felt that way and I called you and that’s not entirely healthy, I think. After all, you left me for three years, and within a week of seeing one another I’m just going to jump at the chance to call you when I’m sad? You were right about leaving. I’ll give you that. But just because I drunkenly cried over my ex-boyfriend cheating on me while spouting out random I love yous, doesn’t mean anything for the two of us.”

She expected Anthony to nod. She expected him to answer with a wry but accepting comment. She expected something completely different then the strong stare he gave her, chilling to the bone before he even started talking:

“Oh yeah? Tell me, you’re the one who suggested we drink in the first place. Knowing your terrible tolerance for alcohol, wouldn’t you control it a bit better in my presence? That’s what most people would do. You know, because of that expression about drunken words being honest words?” She swallowed, meeting his growing glare head on, but he pressed further. “Knowing you’d be spending time with your first love while carrying secrets you wouldn’t want him to know should suggest you would know better than to drink.”

“What’s your point?” she snapped.

“My point,” he insisted, “Is that you knew all too well what could’ve been said around me. Didn’t stop you from drinking, now did it?”

She swallowed, willing herself to be the bitch and failing miserably. “Anthony, again, your point?” she tried, but her voice cracked and it only sounded weak in her ears.

“You said it yourself, alright; you’re still comfortable around me. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say you want to be with me. You still do. But self-preservation is making you hold back.”

He looked her square in the eye, and for a moment she felt like she was with him when they were both so much smaller. “Well, let me tell you something, I haven’t been with anyone else during those three years. Nobody at all. I tried, but I didn’t like anyone enough to continue anything with them. There was a moment where I actually thought I wouldn’t find another person like you. But then, bam. You’re here, in New York. You bumped into me, all because of our fucking grade school teacher who doesn’t even know she’s our cupid, and I sat there spilling my heart out to you with as much of an explanation I could offer that first damn night, only to have you ignore me for a full week.

“So when I was giving up again, you called and I was hopeful, and suddenly you’re linking your pinky with mine, just like we used to, and my head’s swimming with a combination of alcohol and you, dammit. You, as you go on and on about your ex, who sounds like an asshole by the way. Add the way you confessed to still loving me which, try as you might to deny it, you’re clearly feeling, and suddenly there’s this exuberant Anthony that appeared. And he hasn’t quite been around for three years. Only now you want to take it all away because you’re worried I’m going to leave again or cheat or something.”

He shook his head. “Seriously? What are you not grasping? I took the time to be separate from you just so I could get here but it wasn’t amazing. It sucked. And you’re right here, you’re right here in front of me almost miraculously and I refuse to let that go. I refuse, because where on Earth would I go? Who on Earth would I go to? The answers to those questions are ‘here’ and ‘you’ alright? What else do I need to say for you to just get it? For you to just somehow grant me my selfish wish to get over it all and just accept this?”

At some point, he’d stretched out his hands and rested them on her shoulders, eyes staring comfortably into hers. Lacey thought about his words, thought about how they were simply words and so she shouldn’t be able to feel them so intensely yet she did. Her hand reached up and curled around one of his wrists. At the feel of her skin against his, Anthony leaned into her, back curling so he could rest his forehead on hers comfortably.

“It’s scary,” Lacey mumbled.

She felt Anthony flinch and hear him answer, “I don’t want it to be.”

“Everything you just said. It’s like I do trust it, alright. I do trust you but an irrational part of me is making me feel like I have to run.”

“Don’t run.”

“I don’t think I want to. Yet I don’t quite know.”

He sighed. “If we were to take it slow, then?”

Lacey contemplated the idea. Dates and getting accustomed to one another once more with the added benefit of space. It didn’t sound too bad. So she nodded. “Slow. Slow’s good.” Her hand traveled further up, landing on the hand gripping her shoulder and she gently tugged at it, sliding her fingers into the gaps. “Like this. This is nice. This is manageable, for now.”

Anthony stared at their hands with a wry smile. “We didn’t have sex last night, by the way.”

“I figured as much, what with us being in clothes and all. And me crying last night.”

“Just telling you so this whole slow business is equally as arduous for you as it is for me.”

“You really haven’t been with anybody, have you?”

2. EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD.

“You start college in a month.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to study photography.”

“I know.”

“There’s never going to be any time. I’m stuck here, you’re going to become some fancy photographer.”

“I know.”

“Stop just saying you know. I know you know.”

“I’m waiting for you to get to your point.”

“My point?”

“We both know exactly where you’re going with this.”

“You won’t have time for me.”

“There it is.”

“Seriously, Anthony. You won’t have time. You’ll be traipsing up and down New York, taking beautiful shots of half-naked ethereal gap-toothed models while I’ll be slumming it in a different state entirely.”

“Oregon’s cool, Lace, seriously it’s not a big deal.”

“We’re on complete opposite sides of the country. Like we’re basically both situated on opposite edges.”

“I thought our love was overpowering. I thought it was cheesy and cliché and able to conquer all. Except for your pessimism apparently.”

“Would you rather have me fake positivity?”

“Lacey. Just shut up. Yes, we’ll be far away. It may very well be hell, but nothing’s going to change. Because I know I’m going to be looking forward to us talking every night, even if I have to lose sleep just to finish my school work.”

“You’re serious about that? You promise you’ll stay true to that?”

“I’ll pinky promise you that. Okay? No more frowning. See, look at that smile, it basically says everything will be fine. It knows I’ll be here with you forever.”

“Forever, hm?”

“I will never leave you. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Starlight Starbright

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 02:18:06 -0400

a young boy

standing atop a world

his view, the stars

with peace so lonely.

he doesn’t like his name

he sees no value in it anymore

so for all intents and purposes

his name is Blue.

He wakes up

with a happy disposition

in a clearing.

So you’re awake now he hears

a young girl leans over him

I suppose I am he answers

She smiles and grabs his hand

Good let’s go play!

sometimes Blue doesn’t look at the stars

sometimes he finds it too painful

when they burn out, he feels his heart rip apart

Instead he watches down below

as a girl grabs the hand of a boy

and they start to laugh.

How long was I asleep?

A few hours.

How come I don’t remember you?

You just met me!

How did I get here then?

Nobody ever knows. But you’re stuck here now

so it doesn’t matter.

But it does.

There’s a moon a little ways away

its reflection makes Blue’s skin light up

in many different shades of his favorite color

that’s why he chose it for his name

because nothing fit him better

he doesn’t know what anything else about him looks like

just that he glows in blue.

Did you see him?

See who?

The young boy in the sky!

What young boy in the sky?

I see him every night. The light hits him and his reflection shows in the pond over there.

How?

I don’t know, see for yourself! There, see, where the blue light is!

The young boy and girl are sitting again

something’s in front of them, he wonders what

They look to be talking rather seriously

and then she points up at Blue and waves

From the corner of his eyes another star goes out

but he thinks his heartbeat is so alive it makes up for it.

Do you think he sees us?

Why do you ask that?

Because he’s always looking down!

Maybe.

I hope so! It seems lonely up there. I hope he comes down soon.

He can see what’s in front of them now

bowls with fruit so sweet looking he wishes he can taste them

Blue notices more around them too

there are many trees and even a little blue pond

he can easily envision himself in

laughing with them too.

The nights are becoming darker.

Maybe winter’s coming?

Winter never comes here.

How’s it getting darker?

I don’t know, but he seems to be getting closer!

The world he sits on grows below him

His throne turning into a vast field

and the stars are getting further away

so that he sees less of them

the moonlight’s not hitting his skin anymore

but he notices it’s still blue.

He’ll be here tomorrow.

How do you know, it’s always night time now.

Soon then. Our friend will be here soon.

Soon enough he can’t see the outline of the world at his feet

Only the details below that had once blurred together

to make his throne.

Now no light reflects on him at all.

But there’s still a lantern of hope inside of him

If he’s coming here you don’t need me anymore, so can I leave?

I never needed you.

Then why can’t I leave?

You’ll know soon enough.

When his feet fell grass, he doesn’t realize it

because he can’t see it

Once he reaches down everything’s become black

no moonlight, no glow on his skin, no starlight as a view

He doesn’t have a name anymore now

and not even a throne.

He looks for the young girl and boy

but he finds nobody.

His eyelids feel heavy and then so do his lungs

then he realizes

he’s gone out.

He wakes up again.

This time there isn’t a girl above him.

This time he’s all alone.

He looks at what he’s sitting on and sees a world

and all around him are twinkling stars.
When he looks down he sees the girl, waving up at him.

By her side, a star that’s lost it’s light.

She looks down at the star

and pats his head.

Rest peacefully she says

Then she looks up and waves at the boy

You’ll make a good star too she thinks.

In the distance a star goes out

Everything goes black.

Hourglass - Part 2

Mon, 13 Aug 2012 17:21:44 -0400

#1. THIRTEEN YEARS OLD.

“How did you only just pass the English essay! I spent an hour helping you with your outline!”

Anthony frowned. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just not as good at writing as you are.” He shrugged. “You still suck in art, though. So we’re still even.”

Lacey leaned against the locker beside his, pouting up at him. “Just because I’m not the best photographer –”

“Or painter, or sketcher, or sculptor.”

“You’re mean.”

He grinned. “I’m only teasing.” He closed his locker and lead them through the crowd. The two were on their way to their second and last class together, science, which they’d both ardently believed was misery in subject form.

“At least we both suck in here,” she mumbled to him as they took their seat at the back of the room. He chuckled from beside her but didn’t say anything else.

“I’m going to hand back your lab reports today, and let me just say, only half of you passed. Seriously, folks, it only gets worse from here. Learn to improve this mark, okay?” Their teacher continued his self-important ramble as he handed back the reports.

Lacey, already filled up with a gut-wrenching nausea that only science assignments and math tests could give her, clenched her fists in anticipation until he finally reached her table. The moment he folded the report downwards in order to hide her grade, all while giving her the reprimanding look teacher’s saved for their most disappointing students, her heart basically plummeted to her toes.

Lacey peeked at the mark, figuring she should just rip the bandage. Groaning at what she saw, she dropped her head to the desk. “Once again, I’m a failure.”

She felt Anthony rest a hand on her shoulder. “You still got that nearly perfect essay though, remember?”

Leaning into his touch, she lifted her head up and nodded sadly. “I still wish I could understand this stuff,” she said softly, frowning down at her paper.

Their teacher passed by once more, handing Anthony his paper without acknowledging him whatsoever. “How’d you do?” she asked.

He had the paper facing away from her as he looked at it, only shrugging as he put it down. It made Lacey suspicious.

“Can I see? So we could compare our answers?”

Looking awkward, Anthony fumbled through why he’d rather she didn’t, but before he could do anything about it she swiped the assignment off his desk and brought it to her eyes.

“An 83! You got an 83!” she exclaimed, utterly baffled.

On his part, he’d pushed as far away from her as possibly, wary of what she could do to him. “… Maybe?”

To his complete surprise, she looked at him with shining eyes. “Don’t you see, you could help me now! Maybe, if you go over all this stuff, I’ll actually start understanding the course. Maybe I’ll even do as well as you.”

“You’re not mad that we’re not on the same page, though?”

“No. Why would I be mad?” She looked at him like she looked at their science homework, a mix of confusion and incredulity.

“Dunno,” he answered, thinking if the roles were reversed, he probably would have been upset.

“So you’re going to tutor me, right? Oh, wait! Are you this good in math too?”

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD.

Her first week at work was not what she expected at all. It was positively awful. Her job consisted of photocopying stacks upon stacks of papers, handing them back only to hear that she was either too slow or that they were never needed. Otherwise, she fetched coffee for the entire office, making at least three trips in order to bring them all back. Occasionally, she had to deal with the heavy duty job of re-organizing the magazines archived issues.

In short, she felt utterly useless. Not to mention the fact that the other girls in the office seemed to have automatically come to the decision that she was someone they hated. Not in any obvious, high school way of course. Nobody tried to sabotage her ever, luckily. But they were rude or cold always, and they even went so far as to dump some of their smaller tasks onto her, if only to free up their time.

Lacey tried to take it all in stride. She was a realistic person, and she knew most people working in magazines often started in such terrible positions and all it took was persistence, hard work, and patience to get to a better place. Besides, this job was paying her and she wasn’t even using a cash register. Therefore, she’d ignore her personal qualms with what it was she was doing and would try and make the best of it.

This, of course, didn’t stop her from feeling tears of frustration bubble up within her. She held them in though, choosing instead to curl up under her blanket in bed once she’d get back to the small apartment later on. If Jennifer were home, she’d knock on the door and offer comfort food. Otherwise, she’d be free to angst in peace.

On the Friday of her first week, she was feeling especially sensitive, completely aware of the weird stares she was getting from the other secretaries and writers in the newsroom. So she’d shown up in a flowy skirt, did that truly make her look unprofessional? Just because she wasn’t in a turtleneck and black pants like everyone else didn’t mean she didn’t take her job seriously. Meanwhile it had only just become September. Really, they should be evaluating themselves.

No matter how hard she tried insulting them right back, she couldn’t make herself hold the urge to cry in. So, during her lunch break, instead of sticking around the office after scarfing down her food in order to mooch and offer her time to the few nice writers, she ran for the roof of the building so she could let a few of her frustrated tears flow out.

Lacey made sure nobody else was going to be joining her before she actually cried, her loud sobs almost drowned out by the incessant honks from the taxis below. And then, without thinking, she pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts before pressing the call button.

It rang for a while before she heard his answer, breathless. “Hello? Lacey?”

“A-anthony?” she sniffled.

“Wha- Are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened?” he asked with genuine concern.

“Simply p-put, my j-job sucks.”

And then, he did that thing. That thing she wanted him to do, which involved him speaking to her soothingly, saying an assortment of random things despite the fact that she had no real context to work with. “Nothing that involves the Lacey I know can suck,” he said casually. “Maybe before it involved her. Meaning acquiring her as a worker was definitely a step in the right direction.”

And before she knew it, she’d cracked a smile. It was the wrong move, however, as the moment her lips parted, the words that tumbled out were beyond her control. “I suppose this shows I’m not like you. I can’t not have you when I need you. Right? You said you needed to figure out how to be on your own, meanwhile I should have taken the time to do the same thing. When the truth is, I couldn’t even get through this on my own.”

“Lacey,” he said after a long moment. “It’s different for you. You never needed me like I needed you.”

Baffled, she whispered a shaky, “What?”

“You were always going to be fine. If for whatever reason I left or stopped being around, you would have easily surrounded yourself with more people that cared about you. It was different for me, I was never like that.”

“How does that even add up? I was always the one leaning on you, looking up to you and following you in anything, be it my grades or photography or even my relationship with my parents. I needed you way more than you needed me.”

“Maybe … Maybe this isn’t a conversation we should have over the phone,” was all he said.

“Maybe we should meet up tonight,” she offered, wiping a tear away from her cheek, hoping her mascara hadn’t smudged.

“I’ll pick you up at your apartment around seven.”

In an annoying twist of events, the rest of the workday was what she would have considered ‘good’. Except it wasn’t. She was far too distracted, basically going through the motions while her mind was filled with a zinging that matched the buzz in her heart. Her bichy coworkers spent all of ten minutes trying to get her upset and stressed but when they noticed she gave no response, they left her alone.

#1. FOURTEEN YEARS OLD

Sleepovers were always exciting events for them. Sure, there were always the times they decided to have one right that moment, but the ones they knew about beforehand? Those were the ones they anticipated the most. Because the spur of the moment sleepovers usually happened when one ended up staying over late at the other’s house. In those situations, they were usually already hanging out, so once they made sure it was fine with the other set of parents, they resumed what they were doing before, eventually crashing wherever they happened to be.

But the anticipated ones? They were the ones that always had the two of them grinning secretively at one another across their classroom, the ones that had them make lists and plans of what they were going to do during their recesses. They were the ones that made spending a whole night together seem like an event. They always took the time to get an abundance of candies and sweets as well as a pizza which guaranteed them the biggest of stomach aches when they fell asleep. They always saved their most interesting thoughts and questions for that point when they were whispering to each other right before falling asleep. The blackness of their room mixed with the silence of a sleeping house making their words an impenetrable link, like they’re the most vital of things right in that moment.

The sleepovers always took place on Fridays, so they knew they’d spend Saturday together as well unless there was something one of them actually had to do. Homework didn’t count, but Anthony made them do theirs anyways. Secretly, Lacey loved those moments the most.

They’d grab the leftover candy from the previous night, set out their weekend’s homework in a pile and dive in. Whereas Anthony only had difficulty expressing his arguments into words, Lacey always struggled with the classes that involved theoretical or mathematical reasoning. In that sense, they were balanced. Anytime one needed help, the other was right there.

The funny thing was, their homework times reminded her so much of their whispering-before-bed times. The house was usually still during both, they communicated their questions with soft little whispers, and both times it seemed like the comfort of the other’s answers were the most important thing in the entire world. Not to mention, they were always within close proximity with the other. When they studied, they sat around the corner of the dining room table with their chairs inched together so closely one could easily focus on what the other person was writing. And when they were sleeping, they usually shared a bed.

Or well. They did, up until they reached fourteen, and both were suddenly too big to fit in the bed together without it being cramped.

To be honest, Lacey didn’t mind the thought of cuddling with her best friend. She didn’t know who else she’d feel comfortable enough around anyway, so there wasn’t much of a problem. She was also fairly certain Anthony didn’t mind either, because whenever they’d be watching TV together, he frequently would lie down with his head in her lap, and that was kinda like cuddling. No, the only parties that thought they shouldn’t share their beds anymore were their parents. Something about giving them necessary space.

Even so. With one on the bed and the other on a makeshift mattress made out of couch cushions, blankets, and pillows, it still seemed like the world was only the two of them.

Every so often, when they were certain nobody would stop them, they’d still sneak in the same bed, cuddling and whispering before falling asleep together.

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD

They end up in a coffee shop. Anthony was the one who suggested it, and immediately she thought she was heading to something like the Central Perk from Friends. What she was met with was so much more … dull.

The place was quiet and ordering was just awkward. Like at a Starbucks, except this wasn’t a Starbucks, it was more low-key but just as stiff. The only noise was the sound of fingers tapping into keyboards on laptops and the periodic whir of a blender whipping up a cold drink. When he asked her if this place was fine, she didn’t have the heart to tell him she felt very out of place.

Instead she nodded, wondering if this was where he felt like he belonged.

Her confusion pretty much left the building, however, when he arrived at the table she’d grabbed for them holding two brownies. “I see your sweet tooth’s still intact.”

He grinned. “Well. It is Friday. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to thoroughly enjoy a stomachache.”

She snorted. “Same.” And then she took a bite and practically moaned. “Oh my God, where did you find this place?”

He smirked, giving her a knowing look. “There’s something I learned in the last couple of years. The places that look the most uncomfortable are the ones with the best food.”

She cleared her throat. “I was that obvious, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.” He took his own first bite and smiled in satisfaction, a bit of brownie lingering on his pouty lower lip. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and he teasingly licked it away.

She cleared her throat and looked down at her own brownie, face thoroughly flushed. In turn, he laughed out loud, a laugh so familiar it made her physically ache.

She glanced back up, wide-eyed, and he met her eyes with a soft look that easily matched hers. “I want you to know that I understand why you did … what you did.”

He waited for her to continue, hand stilling over the brownie. “Because it did hurt at the time. Not having you around as much. But I’m not going to lie and say things eventually got better. I was pretty lonely. I only had a few people I could count on.”

“What about your parents?”

“Ironically, things with them got better. I think it took being distanced from them, though. So yeah, college was good in that sense.”

“Your friends?”

“They were college friends. Like, I do keep in touch with them through Facebook and Email. But that’s it. Good for beer pong and late night study sessions, but not for lifelong, lasting impressions.”

He nodded, hesitant with his next question. “What about … I mean, did you have someone you, you know, thought of as a … best friend?”

She shook her head shyly. And then she dropped her head with a laugh, thrusting her pinky in the air. “Look, it’s still locked!”

He let out a laugh and she felt a pinky slip into hers. “Look at that. Mine too.”

Lacey studied the two pinky’s locked together, remembering the first time it had happened when their fingers were tiny. “Mine’s stayed that way from the first moment. Never once did it unlock. It couldn’t even unhinge.”

“Don’t you worry, Lace,” he shot her a smirk, taking another bite of brownie with his free hand. “Mine hasn’t either.”

“Good,” she grinned, “Because it’s a Friday. And, unless you have plans later on, I think it’s time I see where you live.”

They disentangled their pinkies, and he nodded and grinned at her. “Okay. But only if I get to choose the movie.”

“You did pay for the brownies.”

#1. FIFTEEN YEARS OLD

“Hello?”

It took four times for him to answer. His voice was thick with sleep and soft despite the scratchy tone it took on. “Anthony?” she whispered timidly.

She heard him move, exhale slowly before finally speaking. “… Lacey? It’s like … three in the morning.”

“Anthony, they’re fighting again.”

A beat, and then, “At this time?”

“Yes.” She said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “They probably waited until I was asleep, but they weren’t very quiet.” She chuckled wryly. “I bet you can even hear them in the background.”

She quieted down, and pointed her cellphone towards the noise. When she brought it back to her ear, she asked him if he managed to get a good earful.

“Lacey,” and his tone was all soft and comforting and perfect, “I’m really sorry.”

She took a deep breath, feeling her lips tremble. “I am too, for calling this late. But you’re the only person I know … who I felt it would be okay to call.” The tears came without her being able to control them.

Her sobs were small and quiet, the kind of crying that happened when it was just about letting that sorrow out. Unlike when she was younger and would cry all the time, Lacey only ever cried when something very, very bad was happening. In the last year, she’d only ever cried like that once.

“You know you can. Always. The pinky’s still locked.”

“Mine too,” she managed through her sniffles.

“Lacey? Have you slept at all?”

“Like … an hour? Two maybe.”

“Here’s what I’m going to ask you to do. Grab your iPod, stick an earbud in. Close your door, and then just listen to me, alright?”

Having already shut her door earlier, all Lacey had to do was grab her iPod from her night table before lying back onto her pillow, throwing her covers over her head. She put on a single earphone, choosing a song Anthony had once recommended her. It was a simple piano track, a lullaby so soothing it made her think it was the musical representation of serenity. She put the song on repeat before asking him to speak.

And he did, talking about the most trivial matters. Like how high school was a lot more lame then every movie made it out to be. (“Have you noticed we don’t even have the stereotypical cliques? Our popular kids are never actually there, they’re too busy smoking in front of the seven eleven down the street.”) He even managed to make her laugh. She didn’t even notice when her parent’s shouts stopped occurring; it was almost like he was physically there, like in their sleepovers, when it was just the two of them and nobody else existed.

They both woke up the next morning with the phone still clutched in their hands. When they arrived at school the next day, their friends were surprised to see them on good terms once more, as the month before had each of them not even glancing in the other’s direction. But Lacey didn’t notice it, not when Anthony hugged her the second he saw her. Not when, from that moment on, they were suddenly better together than before, touching more and teasing more and leaning on one another more. In a way, their minor separation acted as a sort of catalyst for what was ultimately reunion two.

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD

“Do you remember the one big fight we had?” Lacey asked as they perused the aisles of the grocery store.

“Mm, how old were we again?” he answered, pushing their shopping cart at a slow pace, shoulder hunched over with his lean arms stretched out, giving Lacey a nice sight.

“Like, fifteen?”

Anthony nodded and then stopped, looking at her with wide eyes. “That was a whole seven years ago.”

“Ah, look, you’re still good at math,” Lacey commented, amused.

“We’re so old.” He had a cute frown on his lips, almost a pout, and it made her think of when they were seven and he’d pout at her anytime he’d want to trade lunches.

Her fingers trail the dozens of cookie boxes, settling on a random one before tossing it into their carriage. “You know what the perks of being old are? Getting to legally buy alcohol,” she said with a cheeky smile.

His pout-frown transformed into his regular smirk, eyes twinkling in delight. “True. But yeah, the fight we had seven years ago.”

“In comparison to the last three years, that was the closest thing to being separated as we got.”

They turned onto the next aisle, the one they’d been eagerly anticipating; the candy aisle. “How did it start again … ?” Anthony questioned, more towards himself than at Lacey, before tossing packs of M&Ms and Skittles into their carriage.

Lacey looked at her feet, expecting him to remember. Sure enough, he snapped his fingers and pointed them accusingly at her. “You defended that ass Jerry Simmons when he was making fun of my photos just because you had a crush on him! I remember now!”

She covered her face, feeling the tips of her ears heat up. “To this day, I cringe at the thought of that memory. God, I’m still sorry!”

“I remember how we made up too,” Anthony murmured. “You cried and I stayed up with you until, like, four thirty? But I didn’t mind. The second I heard you cry that night I knew I had to.”

“Why?” Lacey asked tentatively.

“Because. You were the biggest crybaby in elementary school, but the second we hit junior high and then high school, you almost never cried. And when you did, I knew something was really wrong. So I had to make you feel better.” He shrugged, as though it was just a fact.

“That’s good, seeing as that’s why I called you. You were the only person I felt I could call at three in the morning without feeling too terrible about it. But yeah, I’m still really sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’re even now, anyway.” She felt him hip bump her, and it surprised her out of her guilty expression.

“Please. One was a month-long disagreement. The other a three year silence so cold it felt like the icy tundra. You still owe me big time.”

He looked over at her then, his dark eyes filling up with a bunch of emotions. “Fine, I promise you I will make it up to you,” he vowed, grabbing a pack of Twizzlers off the shelf. “Starting with these.”

“I was kidding, you really don’t have to.”

He groaned mockingly, “But now I promised!” When he caught her incredulous expression, he snickered. “I really think Twizzlers are the least I can do.”

“And also Jack Daniel’s.”

His countenance brightened considerably. “You’re in luck, I actually already have some at home.”

“Ou, prepared are we. So tell me about this home, you slumming it in some guy’s basement?” Lacey grinned, stopping in front of him before walking backwards.

Anthony timidly scratched the back of his neck. “Not exactly. By the way, there’s a massive pyramid made out of mac’n cheese boxes right behind you.”

Lacey turned on her heel almost immediately, panic in her eyes. However, the sight she was met with wasn’t so much a massive pyramid of food, but of an empty aisle. Turning back to look at Anthony with a deceived grimace on her face, she found the boy laughing out loud, leaning against the carriage with his head between his arms as he clapped viciously.

“You’re still so gullible,” he eventually rasped, attempting to control his laughter (and failing miserably).

“Is that any way to treat someone to whom you’re in debt?” she taunted, crossing her arms in a haughty manner.

“Yes,” he commented lightly as he walked around her.

“Oh. Well in that case …” Lacey began walking alongside the carriage, focus back on the candy surrounding the two of them when something absolutely hilarious occurred to her.

Giving him a joyful grin, she began, “So, wanna laugh?”

“Always,” he replied with a cold expression.

It made her snort. “So. Guess who, of all people, hooked me up with the job that brought me to this city, and then your company, in the first place.” She looked at him expectantly only to see Anthony’s quizzical stare land on her. She sighed. “Mrs. O’Leary!”

It took a moment, but when it sunk in, he became flustered. “You have to be kidding me. No, you’re lying.”

“I swear on my Twizzlers. I was working as a cashier at the grocery store when she recognized me and I spilled my story per her request. Her pity must have been overwhelming because next thing I knew it’s goodbye small town, hello completely intimidating city.”

Anthony appraised her, a small smile on his lips. He reached out and ruffled her hair. “Give it a bit of time, you’ll love this place soon enough. Have you even seen Broadway yet?” When Lacey shook her head, he tsked at her. “Tomorrow! For now, carry on with the Mrs. O’Leary anecdote.”

She did, explaining to him in detail the story, while her heart filled up with warmth at having heard there would be a tomorrow.

#2. SIXTEEN YEARS OLD

The day had started normally. Nothing amazing had happened to foreshadow it, nothing depressing either. The only really notable thing to have happened all day was her parent’s lack of icy tension as they ate breakfast, each of them choosing to read instead; her father the newspaper, her mother some nasty ass erotica novel.

Lacey finished devouring her Fruit Loops, and she quickly rinsed out her bowl before shouting that she’d be heading over to Anthony’s. That day, her group of friends had all decided to check out the elementary school’s fair, knowing from experience the assortment of activities they could do for a fun-filled day.

Once she reached Anthony’s place, Lacey automatically felt more at home then when she was actually at home. She knocked once before letting herself in, calling out a greeting to his parents before heading upstairs to his room.

It didn’t surprise her in the slightest that Anthony was still sleeping, looking completely at peace. Softly, she tiptoed over to him, making sure to make no noise before pouncing on him, hugging him tightly the moment he began squirming.

“Lacey?” he asked, incredulous even through his groggy voice. Groaning, he collapsed under her weight, cheek resting on his pillow. “Of course it’s you.”

She rested her cheek over his, feeling the smoothness of his fair skin on hers. “Yup! ‘Cause I mean, if you have somebody else doing this to you, I think it’s cause for concern.”

He smirked beneath her, rolling her off of him and onto his side. He settled his intense but dreary stare on her as he kept her trapped between him and the wall. “As opposed to you doing it, which is totally fine?” he teased softly.

She grinned bashfully. “Simply put, yes.”

He shook his head once, his bedhead falling onto his forehead cutely. “You’re so careless, like a wild animal. You can never be tamed!”

“That’s because I’m not a stray dog, Anthony. I’m no bitch!”, to which he laughed out loud. She stayed on his bed, lying comfortably as he got off and began getting ready. Thirty minutes later found the both of them waiting in front of the elementary school, where they planned on meeting the rest of their friends.

“You see that spot right over there,” Lacey pointed out, “That is where we first met!”

Anthony observed it before shaking his head. “No, it’s on the other side.”

Lacey scoffed. “Please, I distinctly remember sitting underneath the tree.”

“Lace, there was no tree.”

“Yes there was!”

Before the two of them could continue, however, another voice laughed and the two whipped their heads in its direction.

Mrs. O’Leary was giving them an admiring glance. It was a bit awkward, but they smiled and greeted her politely anyway, with Anthony apologizing for not having seen her.

That started it. The woman, with her graying hair and laugh lines, was quick to wave their apologies off before eagerly telling them all about their endeavors as children. She talked of how cute they were, just such a joy to teach really, always so concentrated when grouped together for projects. The single time she assigned them different partners for an in-class project she felt so guilty, they both looked so heartbroken; she never dared do it again.

“I’m so happy to see the two of you together now,” and then she winked, and it finally occurred to the two very awkward teens just what this woman was getting at.

“Oh,” Lacey blurted out, completely red in the face. By her side, she felt how stiff Anthony had gotten as well. “We’re not together. Like that.”

Their former teacher stepped back in surprise, apologizing profusely and disappearing pretty much within an instant.

The atmosphere surrounding them was suddenly so awkward, neither could say a thing to one another, let alone look up from the ground. It didn’t last too long, thankfully, as the rest of their group arrived. However, their sudden stiffness didn’t exactly go unnoticed.

“What do you think happened to the lovebirds?” Lacey heard them whisper. It made her pause, glimpse over at Anthony, her eyes traipsing over him in a way she’d never done before.

His arms. That was what she noticed first. They were nice arms, his favorite plaid shirt making them look more defined somehow. And his hair, always artfully disheveled (and by artfully she meant he’d woken up with it like that, maybe having paused to run his hand through in an attempt to flatten it). And then there was his face. Since when was it so … proportional? Like, his profile was just so … and that jawline? Since when . . ?

“Um. You alright?” she felt him touch her elbow gently, expression concerned but still a little awkward.

“Uh,” she cleared her throat. His height was a nice height too. Taller than her, yes, but not too tall, maybe half a head (excluding his hair) and it suddenly really mattered, like they were more equal this way. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

Good in this case meant she was experiencing major heart palpitations which had to be hazardous to her health, simply because his extremely familiar scent, so familiar she barely noticed it anymore, was very potent to her senses. It made her breathe like she was anticipating the drop on a roller coaster.

The whole day was spent like that, feeling that anticipating feeling in the pit of her stomach. She kept glancing at Anthony from the corner of her eye, noticing the way she’d always meet his gaze and she wondered if they were on the same page about … everything.

When they’d all said their goodbyes, Anthony walked with Lacey back to his house, despite the fact that there was still some awkwardness surrounding them. It wasn’t a bad, cringe worthy kind of atmosphere though; if anything it was the opposite of that. Everything they’d say was simply a mess of unfinished words that would end in knowing glances and shared chuckles.

As they crossed through the threshold of his home, they began detailing their day to his parents with stupid grins on their faces, looking at the other way too often, before immediately running up to his room the moment they could. “I have to show Lacey something,” was Anthony’s excuse.

Even though it wasn’t quite the same being in his bedroom, because all of a sudden there were implications that entered her mind and made her body go into a frenzy a heart-pounding frenzy. Still, she acted like everything was fine by settling softly atop his bed, looking up at him as he pulled a bag of Twizzlers from inside a drawer.

He tossed them onto her lap before moving to change. Before, him changing in front of her was never really an issue. But now, the moment she saw him unbutton his plaid shirt her face turned as pink as the licorice she’d just picked up. And God, was he moving in slow motion? Why did it seem like it took him eons just to change his shirt?

“Hope you don’t mind,” he teased, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he looked over his shoulder at her with a smirk.

“Please,” she mock scoffed, on the verge of internally combusting.

He stretched luxuriously as he pulled on a random T-shirt, tossing her one more smirk before a kind of look formed in his eyes. “You know how it’s your birthday next week,” he began.

She took a bite of her licorice, eyeing him. “Mhm.”

“I was going to ask you what you wanted, but actually I think I already have an idea.”

“ … Alright.”

He grinned down at her, mischief all over his face. “Yup. In fact, I believe it’s somewhere in this room already.”

She reached out to bump him. “Stop that, you’re just teasing me.”

His grin morphed into this soft, feline-like half-smile, an unusual expression which made her stop her chewing in an attempt to get ahold of herself . “Well, I can just give it to you now.”

Her eyes widened, swallowing the sweet candy quickly. “Really?”

Anthony nodded innocently. “But you’ll have to close your eyes.”

Lacey eagerly complied, closing her eyes and stretching her hands out. She heard him shuffle around his room before taking a seat beside her on the bed. He gently moved her head to face him by poking her cheek, and she heard him snicker.

“Well?” she said expectantly.

And that was when she felt his lips land on hers.

He reached up to cup her face as she snapped her eyes open, lips lax for a second before it occurred to her to move them.

It didn’t last very long, and it was very sweet, yet it still managed to make her heartbeat pummel into her eardrums. She blinked up at him, taking in his flushed lips——-they’d always been naturally pouty and God was she thankful for it——-seeing the way he smirked at her, albeit shyly.

Tentatively, she lifted a hand to her lips, her mind reeling. In the end, all she could say was, “Wh-what?”

He leaned forward a little bit, happiness evident in his eyes. Leaning forward to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, he explained, “That was your birthday gift.”

“O-oh,” and she full-on blushed, feeling it from the tips of her ears down to her chest. “What brought that on? Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but …”

The look on his face took the breath right out of her; there was so much care etched into that smile, so much sincerity in his eyes. All for her.

“I think it’s safe to say we both like each other. I know I have for, well, I don’t know how many years now. And you were pretty obvious today so don’t even try and deny it.”

Like she actually would.

Anthony leaned in further, placing his mouth by her ear. “Though this isn’t actually your birthday gift. That was a lie; I still want you to tell me what you’d like. I suppose I wanted to catch you off-guard.”

“I really …” she swallowed, feeling her breath hitch at just how close he was to her. “I really need like a minute to string a good enough sentence together to properly explain what I’m feeling.”

At that, Anthony snorted. “Please. Freaking English major, that was fine.”

Lacey glanced down at her lap, wringing her fingers together when his own hand swooped down and picked up one of hers. She could hear his own sharp intake of breath when he slowly let his fingers slide between hers.

The both of them regarded their linked hands closely, as though it was suddenly dawning on them. “We’re still best friends, though, right? Even if … something happens?” she murmured.

“Always,” he replied with his own murmur.

“Good.” And then after a moment, “Because it’s going to take a wrench to unlock that pinky of mine.”

He didn’t say anything to that, only leaning forward to give her another kiss.

Hourglass - Part 1

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 01:47:11 -0400

When they found out their second grade teacher had always found them interesting as a pair, they didn’t quite know what to say. There was the awkward aspect of it all, yes, as well as the automatic implication that their teacher, one they didn’t really like either, had taken pleasure in the fact that she was able to coo at them about their mutual cuteness, making everything gross as hell.

But ultimately her words were eye-opening. She spoke of them fondly (probably reliving her wasted youth spent teaching a bunch of bratty seven year olds how to write in cursive vicariously through their so-called cuteness). It just made things clear. If an adult who knew them a decade ago was talking about them the way their parents and their friends had for the last year, maybe there was something happening they weren’t quite aware of.

Ironically, thanks to her, their three reunions took place.

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD.

Lacey wondered how she was actually thinking so well in this club. Maybe because she was still sober? In any case, she was bumming it at the table her new roommate had secured before bouncing into the sweaty crowd of heady gyration. Lacey’s mind was going on its own private adventure, beginning a week prior when she’d had that conversation with Mrs. O’Leary while cashing her groceries.

There was the anticipated questioning of how she was doing, what she was doing, all questions she hated answering. When she’d briefly explained her lack of success in her post-grad job hunt which lead her to accept the cashier position out of desperation, the woman nodded in an empathetic way. And then emphatically when Lacey went ahead and made it clear that the position was merely temporary. She was still applying at all sorts of newspapers and magazines, just after her shifts.

In any case, her former elementary school teacher must have figured the pity she felt was enough to offer Lacey a guaranteed paid internship at some fashion magazine in New York City, sure that her niece wouldn’t mind.

After hearing what she’d then thought was an empty promise of receiving a call with the details, Lacey went back to pondering the misery that was her life for another five hours. Then, she answered her house phone only to hear Mrs. O’Leary’s voice explaining the conditions that came with the job, and because Lacey wasn’t an idiot and still totally desperate, she immediately agreed, having already logged onto Craigslist by the time she hung up the phone.

Things pretty much fell into place after that. She found her roommate within a day, told her she’d be arriving in four, got a moving van and completely changed her surroundings from her small town to the gleaming city buildings NYC was known for.

Her parents were pretty happy for her in a bittersweet, depressed kind of way, but that hardly fazed her. As soon as she arrived, she found she completely got along with her roommate, a girl only a year older than herself named Jennifer, and eagerly accepted her invitation to go clubbing “with the girls” that night.

Then she walked into a room filled with strobe lights, felt her own exhaustion creep up on her as well as the unease of being in such a try-hard environment, where everyone was either artsy as hell or trying to look like they belong on Gossip Girl. Her eyelids had become very heavy, a combination of dim-lighting induced fried pupils, heavy eyeshadow, and lack of sleep, so she figured she should do something to try and wake up.

But the city was still so unfamiliar, so leaving wasn’t an option. Drinking was just a big no-no because she started working the next day. Dancing it was.

The characters littering the dance floor soon morphed into generic clubbers, all of them trying to cop a feel or seek out euphoria or escape from their problems, and so she let herself go with it, wondering if that was New York was all about; the people making everything look a specific way when really it all came down to the generic, everyday problems most individuals faced.

Soon enough a hand had presented itself to her, announcing its arrival on her hip. Tossing a look back, she saw the guy wasn’t half bad looking and wasn’t grinding his dick into her ass from the get-go, so she figured she’d continue the dance until she either got bored, wanted to sit back down, or saw one of the girls she’d met earlier in the night.

However, he seemed to think differently, using the glance-back in his favor by pulling her closer to him. His grip was rough and suddenly there he was, nose trailing up and down her neck, making her grimace. She pulled away from him right away, but it was hard because his grip was surprisingly strong and there was basically no room around them for her to step, and so it took a full minute before the guy moved his nose and got a clue.

“You want a drink?” he shouted into her ear.

“No!” shaking her head in emphasis.

He frowned, eyes aflame as they trailed over her really-not-that-extravagant outfit. “C’mon, not even one?”

He reached out to grab her wrist, but Lacey ducked away from him. “I said no!” she cried, leaving him in the middle of the crowd, suddenly wanting only to leave as soon as possible. She was rushing back towards her table, in the hopes someone would be there sober enough to accompany her home, when she crashed into someone, nearly causing her to fall on her ass.

Horrified, she turned to apologize when she froze in her tracks.

There seemed to be a stain on his jeans, probably from the drink he was holding. His dark plaid shirt made her feel even more out of place, somehow, reminding her too much of a time when everything in her life was good and happy and comfortable. Back when everything was home, when she wasn’t in an environment she felt offered her no happiness, no relief.

When he looked up and met her eyes, she could see them fill with the same thing she was feeling; realization that she, too, was there, right in front of him, ironically wearing a plaid shirt and dark wash jeans, thinking the exact same thoughts. Much like they used to.

“Lacey,” he said though she hardly heard it, and then all the good nostalgia she felt was completely torn to shreds at the thought of how they’d parted ways, with him never answering her messages or Skype calls, basically shutting her out of his life completely.

“Anthony,” she crossed her arms, looking up at him, drinking the sight of him in. He was older but exactly the same, and it made her want to cry.

“What are you doing he-” he’d begun before Lacey felt an arm grab her elbow.

The guy from the dance floor was giving her a hard look, profanities coming out of his mouth. She flinched away a couple of times, the stench of alcohol seeping from his throat too potent for her to take. Her attempts to reclaim her elbow were pretty much completely futile as well.

“Are you listening to me?” he shouted, his grip tightening to an almost painful amount. And then Anthony stepped in and pushed him off of her.

“Clearly, she’s not interested,” he said, tone ice cold.

“Ah yeah?” the douche replied. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Her boyfriend. Now if you don’t mind, we’re going to go home and fuck each other senseless, unlike you who won’t be getting any tonight.” He smirked and she inhaled sharply, its familiarity completely startling in the midst of the confrontation happening. But before she could really call him out for what he’d just said, he began steering her out of the club, ignoring her protests until they were outside.

“’We’re going to fuck each other senseless unlike you’? Ah, you’ve clearly changed, you used to be so well-spoken. You know nobody actually says that!”

Lacey noticed his amused glance, as well as the way he left his arm around her shoulder. “You’re still very childlike,” he retorted, tilting his head in a mocking way. “Besides, he was drunk enough to take what I said seriously, which is why I said it in the first place.”

She shook her head, “I expected a better line than that.”

He grinned down at her, “But it was hilarious, you have to admit.”

She merely gave a small laugh in response, her mind directing its attention back to things she should have been thinking about, like how she shouldn’t feel this comfortable with him already, how she should be angry and upset and demanding answers, how she should go back and find Jennifer to at least let her know where she was going, and most importantly, “Wait, wait, where are we going?”

“There’s a McDonald’s like right there. I figured that was the best option for the moment as we could get some food and …” he paused, shifting uncomfortably. “I guess I can explain things, can’t I?”

“I can safely say you owe me that much,” she confirmed, refusing to let herself feel happy, only relieved.

“Okay,” he sighed, rubbing a finger on his sideburn. (It was a manly sideburn and the last time she’d seen him he was still at that in between a boy and a man stage, so this was an exciting new development.) “It’s that way, not too much of a walk, and considering the time and this city, I’ll stick close to you so you feel safer.”

“Sounds good.” She was flushed red, knowing he was still ready to look out of her. In truth, she was just the same way with him, the stain on his jeans way too noticeable for her despite the fact that it wasn’t really visibly noticeable. Plus, the thought of Anthony, the boy who seemed to have remained essentially the same in his build——-smaller than the average male but still toned (with some nice arms and thighs which she hoped had also remained essentially the same) ——-acting as her protector when there were probably many more larger guys out there was actually a little comical. But it was still comforting.

They began walking again, him hesitantly wrapping his arm around her shoulder once more and her feeling a sense of warmth at the motion. “Ah, wait a second, one last thing …” She glanced back at the entrance of the club, letting out a sigh. “I lost track of my roommate and her friends in there. She doesn’t know where I’m going, or that I’m even going at all. She’ll worry when she realizes, unless she’s that drunk.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Okay. Try calling her first, see if she picks up, and if she doesn’t send her a message explaining you’re alright and safe.”

Seeing reason in his words, she did what he told her, leaving both a message and a text message explaining things. When it was done, she stepped closer to him and they proceeded to the fast food joint down the street, ordering Big Mac Trios before sitting across one another and digging into both the food and the last three years.

#1. SEVEN YEARS OLD.

Her second grade classroom wasn’t the one she’d wanted to be in. All of Lacey’s friends got put in the other grade two class, the one with the young, fun teacher, not Mrs. O’Leary who smelled funky and dressed weirdly, in thick polka dot dresses that made her look like a box. But, it would be her class for the next year, so she knew she’d need to make friends in order for her to find a reason to like it.

When she looked at all the students, studying them in order to find the ones most likely to become her friend, her gaze automatically landed on a pair of girls who were actually kinda quiet throughout class. They seemed calm, so maybe they’d welcome her nicely. This was a big mistake because at recess, they showed their true colors by completely ignoring her, whispering little comments to one another before breaking out into mean little giggles. All right in front of her, even going so far as to bluntly saying they didn’t want her as their friend. It was all Lacey could take before she teared up and ran to the corner of the yard, truly looking to be alone.

That was another mistake, because there was another kid there and before she could go and leave, he sat up and scrunched up his nose. “You’re crying?”

She shook her head, hiding the tears and hoping he wouldn’t notice her sniffles.

“You just lied. That’s bad, you shouldn’t do that. Lying’s bad.”

“I’m not crying,” she protested, wiping at her eyes and nose. “See!” and she turned, unaware that her eyes and nose were red.

“Uhuh, that’s why your cheeks are wet and you’re all red and puffy,” the boy pointed out.

Lacey went back to hiding her face from him. “Look, can’t you just leave me alone.”

He blinked down at her. “You’re the one who came here after I was already here.”

“Yeah but …” but she couldn’t argue with his logic. It made her feel even more stupid and then before she could control it, she’d let out a sob.

“Woah! See, you were crying!” But after he received no response but the sound of her crying, he sighed. “Um, what’s wrong?”

She sniffled. “No-nobody likes me in my class. I tried making friends today and they treated me like I wasn’t good enough or something. Why … why don’t they like me?”

He was quiet in response, so she didn’t expect him to answer her with a quiet, “I wonder about that too sometimes.”

She lifted her head up at him and saw him looking down at the ground. “R-really?”

Shyly, he nodded, still looking to the ground.

“Then maybe … maybe we should become friends?”

He widened his eyes and looked up at her with a hopeful expression. “Really?”

That was the first time she’d noticed his intense eyes, and she figured that might have been why the other kids didn’t like him too much. But to her it was nice and she nodded her head. “Really. This way we won’t be alone ever.”

He nodded eagerly and stuck his pinky out. “Promise?”

She thrust hers out almost right away, aware of the severity of the promise they were going to make. “Promise.”

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD.

“I’m sorry. I think I need to start with that. You know … you have to know it was so hard. To let you go like that, you.

I did it because I thought it was something that needed to be done. You and I weren’t in the same state, we were never able to see one another. I suck at long distance, I learned, because I was never happy anymore. I needed to be able to move past you, don’t you see. I needed to learn how to live without you. I never had to experience that before, but then we weren’t ever together, we weren’t going to be for another four years and who knows where life would’ve taken us by then.

“The only downside in all of it was knowing it would hurt you. That wasn’t ever the point. I didn’t do it to hurt you, I didn’t do it because I stopped caring about you. I did it because I needed to learn how to be independent. I never had to be before. You were always at my hip, ever since we were seven. How was I supposed to know how to move on from something painful if I didn’t? So you see, I had to.

“Because it felt like I was willingly removing my heart from my chest, Lacey. Because I knew it felt so difficult, so painful, I knew I needed to do it. And I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to tell you all this, because you still would’ve waited and I would’ve given up right away, you would’ve still been at the back of my mind. So I did it terribly by letting you drift away. At first, I tried weaning myself off of you, but then I gave up, cold turkey, because I wasn’t going to be able to otherwise.

“I don’t think you see how you’re not even a person to me anymore, you’re something wholeheartedly more in my eyes. So please, take that into consideration, because it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

#1. TWELVE YEARS OLD.

“We’re going into high school next year. Woah.”

“It’s not high school, Lace, it’s just junior high school.”

“It’s basically the same thing, though.”

“High school’s harder. Everyone’s taller.”

“Do you think it’s gonna be tough finding our way from class to class? What if I always get lost?”

“I’ll find you and help you if you get lost.”

“But what if we have different classes? What if we’re not together anymore …”

“… Lacey, don’t cry.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m scared.”

“Of the changes?”

“A-and of us not being friends anymore.”

“That’ll never happen. I’ll never not be your friend. Remember, I promised.”

“Really?”

“Yup. See, my pinky’s still locked. No matter how much I’ve tried to unlock it, it stays that way. So I guess I’m staying your friend forever.”

“Good! That’s what you get for trying to unlock it!”

“What about yours? Is yours still locked?”

“Mhm. Look, see!”

“They look so empty when they’re not locked together. See, doesn’t it look better now?”

“It does look better!”

“So do you, y’know. Because you’re not crying now.”

“All because of you!”

“You’re right, all because of me.”

#3. TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD.

It was quiet. They had not touched a burger wrapper in over forty minutes. The restaurant was basically empty, save for the two people on duty. All around her was a certain kind of quiet, a softness to it that had not been there before he spoke. She wondered about it, about whether this were some kind of reunion for the both of them. Was she going to wake up tomorrow and immediately message him like she used to? Were they going to be so together again that they would be known as a half of something like when they were younger?

He sat before her, eyes steadily on her. He’d blink, but he’d never look away. She looked back at him because she didn’t know what other way she could communicate with him. Words certainly going to come as easily.

A loud clang came from the kitchen and it made him jump, snapping out of the trance like state he’d just been in. She opened her mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing would come out. His eyes softened in understanding, and he nodded.

After checking the time, they realized they should leave. Not because it was late, simply due to the fact that no further developments would come right then. Lacey figured he wouldn’t want to force anything out of her either. He’d always received her words and attention effortlessly.

He asked her where she lived and when she told him, heoffered to walk her home. She noticed all the taxis driving past them along their walk. Plenty of opportunities for him to take hold of in order to further his capability to be independent, all purposefully ignored in favor of having her at his hip once more.

And then they arrived, and for a moment she felt that it was the end of the night, tomorrow morning would bring her regular life without him. No more of Anthony’s presence and his words began replaying in her head once more, churning the gears in her brain that dealt with her own dependence on him.

He asked to exchange numbers and she did, aware of the intense relief passing through her once she had him safely in her phone once more. Texting him immediately when she woke up was once again an option, and as they hugged goodbye she felt she definitely would.

The moment he was out of her line of sight, she knew for a fact she wouldn’t.

"I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions."

Sun, 05 Aug 2012 23:53:52 -0400

““I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.””

- James Michener

Ever Since

Wed, 01 Aug 2012 19:16:00 -0400

Faith didn’t like it when Felix asked her to go with him anytime he had errands to run. He always did it at night time, when she was sleepy enough to feel like her eyelids had taken control of the rest of her person. And she wasn’t one of those people who could manage easily when she was sleep deprived. She was moody and cranky and lacked the sensibility to deny him before he began begging with his googly-eyes.

“You know I don’t like driving there alone,” he’d say in a way that made her sleep-deprived-self see him as small and sensitive.

“I know but …” the place he always needed to go was exactly where she didn’t want to go. To be fair, he clearly felt the same way, which is why he made her tag along in the first place.

“It won’t take very long, though. And then we’ll come back and I’ll let you sleep in an extra hour tomorrow, okay?”

It was a good deal. She hardly ever got to sleep in anymore.

She accepted the offer, in the end. She usually did, even when there wasn’t any incentive. Felix was the only other person who understood what’s changed in the last few months. Letting these moments where it was him who needed her slip by was something she knew she couldn’t do. If she wasn’t there for him in his time of need, who would be there for her?

Going there Ever Since was an endeavor she loathed, obviously. All it brought nowadays was anxiety, confusion, nausea, and the occasional incomprehensible fit of sobs. Not to mention major amounts of stress. Because high school was never easy, Faith knew, but when yours consisted of highly expectant vocal coaches constantly shoving comments such as, “You want to make a career out of that talent, Faith? Remember to actually hit that high D next time,” down your throat, it was never actually fun. Unless you were an overachiever, which Faith used to be … but yeah.

Ever Since.

It was different for Felix, however. He’d taken an administrative position the second he left University, and now he was stuck there, just like she was. Except he wasn’t only there for one more year, no no. He pretty much had a lifetime to spend in the halls of the Arya-Menuhni School for the Arts.

The nightly errands began the first day he’d started, two weeks before school actually began for Faith, because of the auditions that were to take place. Dealing with a bunch of overconfident musicians in such a setting seemed to have rendered him as forgetful as an amnesiac, and thus the nightly drive-bys.

As soon as they were on the road, Faith asked, “What is it you forgot this time?” to her brother in what she thought was her best attempt at not-a-grumble.

“One set of the keys. I mean, they have to be there, right? Otherwise where else could they be …” Tonight presented her brother as a ball of nerves. Her tired eyes had trouble focusing on him when he was so fidgety.

“Oh, Felix,” she said, reaching over to pinch his cheek. He hardly noticed and Faith shook her head. “I think you might actually get wrinkles before me, big brother.”

He finally looked at her. “That bad?” The crinkle between his brow loosened a little once his lips lifted from their perma-pout.

“I’ve already told you before, anytime you freak out, you can’t help but look like a cartoon character my friend. And right now,” she slapped her hand onto his shoulder, “You’re trying really really hard to hunt some wabbits, my friend.”

He was about to retort something except he couldn’t as his mouth was agape. They’d just pulled up to the school at 11:23 pm and there were a bunch of kids running in and out of the doors, holding onto what looked like red cups.

Faith glanced over at Felix, chancing it, only to watch him scamper out of the vehicle, basically leaving a cloud of dust in his wake as he sprinted inside the building.

Suddenly hyper-conscious of her pink pajama pants covered in cute little sheep, Faith felt like a complete idiot when she followed in his wake. But what else could she do? She wasn’t just going to leave Felix take care of this mess on his own.

The crowd had gathered inside the auditorium, she quickly discovered. Many loitered right at the foot of the stage, eagerly anticipating some performance apparently, while the rest were separated into small clusters, sitting in the seats and laughing animatedly with their red cups on full display.

And Felix was nowhere to be found. Starting to feel absolutely ridiculous in just her pajamas, she tried her best to covertly walk backstage but was startled when she heard the opening keys of a song begin to play. Curious, she glanced back at the stage.

Standing atop it was someone interesting. Her dark hair was straightened, framing her pale, flaw-free face perfectly, and she wore a simple but commanding deep blue dress. Faith figured Felix could wait a few minutes, if only so she could scope out her competition.

Victoria Battleton was known as a legend when it came to singing. In Faith’s world, she was always being whispered about despite the fact that she didn’t even attend her school. The girl was just one of those people you automatically knew through word of mouth. Now, Faith got to see if the hype was true to reality.

The song was slow at first, building up in noise level in an anticipating way. And when Victoria Battleton first opened her mouth to sing, the sound was soft and nothing worth noting. But as the song progressed, only growing in rhythm and volume, Faith was starting to understand why this girl was so noteworthy. It was in the power her voice held. It didn’t have to be pretty and light, but it wasn’t gruff either. Even when she wasn’t hitting any high notes, you could still feel the hair on your arm rise and shivers pass through your body, and when she actually did hit the high notes of the song …

All around her, people cheered, screaming out the lyrics and drinking happily, party in full swing. They were captivated by the sensual song and voice and Faith realized she was too. As soon as she finished her song, the crowd cheered with such incredible volume that Faith could feel her entire being crumble.

All her life, she’d aimed to do what that girl had just done. She’d practiced so ferociously, she’d even been able to sing opera at last year’s Christmas showcase. All she’d known was how perfect her voice was, and yet she’d never been able to cause that kind of a reaction.

Victoria Battleton was a better singer than her.

Overcome with full-throttle exhaustion, Faith grabbed the nearest seat and threw herself on it. She didn’t want such a rival. She didn’t want something more to aim for, not right then. Had this girl appeared the year before, her reaction would have been completely different. But to have more to worry about right then wasn’t what she needed whatsoever.

She looked around for Felix once again, suddenly feeling so incredibly tired. Her thoughts were running rampant towards what this next year would entail, and her heart began to palpitate in the familiar cold and jittery anxiety usually caused.

What she learned about her anxiety in the last couple of months was that it was all-consuming. It took over her system in a way that had to be rather unhealthy. She could only focus on herself and what she was feeling, hardly aware of what was happening around her. When your entire childhood was spent molding a talent into a skill, you learned how necessary controlling your concentration actually was, and in order for her to cope with her anxiety, it meant holding back from concentrating on anything that could possibly worsen it.

Had Faith succumbed to her tempting thoughts about Victoria Battleton, feeding into the anxiety, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the six boys that made their way on stage, all covered in black, mischievous smiles etched onto their faces as they began their own performance. Meaning, Faith could’ve easily missed the moment that changed everything.

They Dance

Wed, 01 Aug 2012 17:43:00 -0400

They dance.

Nothing pretty, nothing with grace. She’d run and then jump and he’d tumble on the couch cushions and do cartwheels and both of them almost broke all the vases in her house. She’d go to him and grin and he’d flick her and she’d laugh and run away, twirling like a ballerina except she wasn’t a ballerina so it almost always led to her hitting her knee or her toe on the table and then their fun would stop because she was crying.

They were six years old, home alone.

They were best friends.

He would run to her and hug her and shush her, telling her his funniest jokes just to get her to stop crying. “There’s not even any blood, Alexa, look, see?” She’d look and would lean on him even more because, “It still hurts, Ryan.”

“I know, I know,” and he’d rub her back in a way he figured out soothed her the first time she bruised her knee and soon the tears stopped and she was only sniffling, mind lost in the comfort he brought to her.

They were six years old and she thought he was her savior.

Their togetherness was one the other kids could never understand. She was always way too quiet and shy and he was just so loud and funny. The kids really liked him but they could never see why he liked her in the first place.

But he always played with her at recess. Her and only her. When someone asked him once why he liked playing with her so much, he answered, “Because she’s my best friend,” and that was that. Nobody bothered disturbing them anymore, even if they were all confused.

They stayed best friends, up until they entered high school.
And then things changed.

“Lexa, can I ask you something?”

She looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Okay.”

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows in her direction. “How come you don’t have any girl friends?” He asked her this when they were fourteen. They were sitting inside the local ice cream place because school had ended and soon it was going to get cold. They wouldn’t have too many chances to eat ice cream again.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, licking her cone tentatively. Two minutes ago she was talking with so much animation in her expression, she didn’t notice the way Ryan wasn’t saying anything. Now, they were both quiet and she found his question had hurt her a lot. She really tried to find other girls to be her friends, they just didn’t want her. And every time she felt their rejection and heard their mean words, she thought to herself, “It’s okay because I still have Ryan.”

“Then what do you do when I’m not around?” His ice cream was melting, pretty much untouched. Looking at it made her feel even sadder because it had been she who paid. After all, it was her idea to go there. She thought they should take advantage of one of the last times they could go out for ice cream. Plus, lately Ryan would go to the pizza place after school while she would go straight home. Everyone from her school was always at the pizza place after school. She didn’t want to go alone, and Ryan never brought her with him.

“Um. I don’t know. Read and do homework and stuff.” She looked at her lap, not noticing the way her uniform’s skirt was so much longer than the other girls’ at school, going even past her knees.

Ryan studied her for a bit, wanting to ask her more about why she wasn’t more outgoing like the other girls he knew but then he saw her get sad and stopped. He looked down at his ice cream, wishing it were pizza instead, but took a great big bite anyway.

Her eyes flicked up at him, and he continued to eat his sundae with enthusiasm. It made her smile a little bit, and then laugh when he started saying, “Alexa, it’s so good, why aren’t you eating any!”

But she still felt something bleak in the pit of her stomach. And he still wished it to be pizza.

One day, something a bit peculiar happened.

Because to have other boys take notice and speak to her was really foreign. It was something that never happened ever. But there he was, smiling nicely and talking to her with kindness, going so far as to even nudge her with his elbow and she was in a bizarre kind of awe at him.

“My name’s Raymond,” he said and she stuttered when telling him hers. “Alexa’s a cool name.”

Alexa totally wasn’t a cool name. It was a name for some girl who couldn’t help but not understand a lot of the changes happening all around her so she went through her days lonely and confused with endless questions on why the other girls thought she was so bad compared to them.

“Thank you,” she said, all flustered and blushing and shy.

“You’re welcome,” he told her, an amused smile on his face.

Then class started and he proceeded to tease her for the entire period while she pretty much internally combusted from her own sense of awkwardness.

“Hey, Alexa, who’s the kid you’ve been talking to,” Ryan asked her one day.

She bit her lip, feeling her heartbeat alter in its pace, going from kinda-normal-ish to freakishly-fast-in-not-a-good-way. “Um, he’s new.”

He frowned. “What’s his name ?” and there’s that tone that only makes her heart feel worse.

“Raymond,” she muttered, suddenly feeling like the new friend she was finally excited to have was something she should feel ashamed of.

“He’s weird,” Ryan announced, and her heart stopped completely, plummeting to the cement beneath their shoes.

“Why,” she whispered, hiding her eyes from him because she didn’t want him to see her like that.

He looked at her, a similar sad look on his face because she was so quiet and not normal so why would someone like Raymond who all the girls were into want to hang out with her when she wasn’t as fun? So he shrugged because he didn’t want to say that out loud and be, like, a jerk to her. He hated making her feel bad since it always made him think he was a bad friend.

“Hey,” he said suddenly and it made her snap her head up at him because he was sounding like his older cheery self. “Wanna go shopping with me and Ariana after school tomorrow?”

“Ariana Waller?” who was only the meanest of all the girls in her grade.

“Yeah,” he said with that dopey smile, the kind that he used to save for her anytime she cried when they were little, the kind she really really missed and wanted pointed in her direction because it made her heart flutter from the familiarity of her best friend’s presence. She could see the way he felt about Ariana and it hurt her so bad somehow but she also saw the way he looked at her insistently and all of that made her say yes for some reason, even though she kind of didn’t want to.

She thought it wouldn’t be so bad, but it turned out it was absolutely awful, because Ariana only gave her dirty looks swimming with threats anytime Ryan spoke to her, which wasn’t often anyway because the two of them were so wrapped up in one another it physically hurt like a slap across the face.

The next day at school, when Ariana saw her in the hall, the pretty girl pushed her books out of her hands and her friends all laughed and jeered and without knowing how or why, Alexa’s throat closed and her vision clouded and all she could think was how she wanted Ryan to hold her and tell her a joke.

But when she looked up to find him, to seek him out, he was walking down the hall with Ariana while the person crouched in front of her was the boy she wasn’t sure she was supposed to like anymore.

“Don’t worry,” Raymond whispered, “I’m here for you.”

Alexa nodded blindly, feeling her heart freeze up and burn simultaneously as she looked at Ryan’s back down the hall.

The only time they would see each other are when their parents would have dinner together.

“Ryan’s coming,” her mom would say, “Usually you’re a lot more excited.”

But how was she supposed to explain that Ryan didn’t seem to want to be around her anymore, that he didn’t like her at all and it hurt really bad because he promised her he’d always protect her when they were five and she still held onto that promise even though they were grown up now?

“Sure,” she’d say before rushing into her room and hiding away until Ryan and his family would arrive and only then would she go back downstairs to pretend things were fine even though Ryan didn’t even bother.

He’d spend his whole night texting usually, probably Ariana, Alexa thought sadly, hardly even looking up at her even when she’d build up the courage to mention something to him, something like, “Remember when we used to take apart the couches and turn them into forts?”

The thing that would hurt her anytime she’d do that was how she’d recognize the littlest bit of a glint in his eyes only to have him snort and brush hit off. “Oh Alexa,” he’d say, this amusement in his eyes that made her feel so little it was sad, “That was so long ago.” And that was it, he’d go back to texting and she’d feel so incredibly bad for the rest of the night.

All this to say, the night of her birthday, when her parents invited them over as the tradition went and Alexa had prepared by adding Raymond’s number into her new birthday cellphone so she could text him the second they sat down to eat, she was pleasantly surprised because the Ryan that greeted her was not the same Ryan that she’d been watching in the last couple of months.

It was the old Ryan she knew since kindergarten and it made her heart swell.
As he walked in, he simply had this smile on his face, so content to be there that it confused the crap out of Alexa because what, since when?

“Lexa!” he cried, picking her up in a hug. Their parents laughed, apparently so incredibly oblivious in not having noticed the tension between the two of them in the last few months.

Her face felt warm. Her entire body felt warm. He made her feel warm.

It clicked, really, that the reason why she was always so affected by him was because she liked him. No, rather, she knew she loved him. How do you not love that boy you’ve always looked up to?

When she confessed her realization to Raymond, though, he’d frowned. He didn’t approve of Ryan, it turned out, because he’d hurt her so much. “You don’t deserve someone like him,” he’d say, “Because you don’t deserve a jerk.”

Alexa, at first, had thought it to be a bit harsh. And then she saw Ryan and Ariana in the hall together, arms around one another, and she only agreed with him.

So why was he hugging her?

“Um, Ryan,” she began, cursing her voice for coming off so weak.

“Happy birthday!” And then he whispered, “I missed you,” into her ear and she was absolutely torn.

After spending the night giggling over all their old memories (forts and all) she felt over the moon, grinning in excitement for the first time in a while.

Later that night, after he’d left with another goodbye hug-lift-and-spin, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Surprised at the unfamiliar feeling, she saw Raymond’s name in the display and answered her first call giddily. “Ray! Guess what!”

When she’d finished spilling her guts to Raymond, she only heard silence. She could practically hear his warnings before he even let out a breath, but to her surprise she was met with an interesting piece of information, one that completely confused her, more so than when Ryan hugged her earlier. Because Ryan and Ariana broke up. She thought he’d been so attentive toward her for her birthday and because he missed her, missed being her friend just as much as she had missed being his, but she wondered if it was really because there wasn’t an expectation he had to meet anymore.

She called him the following night. He didn’t show up to school that day, so she felt she had to check up on him.

“Ryan, I wanted to check if you were alright,” she said once he answered.

“Alexa?” his voice is groggy and she recognized it as his cry voice. “W-why? What’s up?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she answered gently. “I know about Ariana, so I wanted to check up on you.”

He was quiet on the other end of the line, and naturally her assumption was not because he was sad and unsure, but because he still didn’t want to talk to her. Perhaps her birthday had been a total fluke, perhaps she shouldn’t have felt so happy after all.

But then Ryan whispered her name and her heart hit her throat. “Lex,” he said once more, using his special nickname, the one for those singular private and tender moments
when he felt himself uncontrollably shaken. “Why does it matter so much?”

“You loved her, that’s why.” Her answer was matter of fact.

“I don’t think I did though. But it still really hurts.” His voice cracked.

“Do you …” but her breath hitched and it’s stuck somewhere in her throat, the words becoming harder and harder to grasp … But then, what really surprised her, was how they did come out. “Do you need me to tell you a joke?”

Silence ensues, and Alexa crossed her fingers with such strength she thought a bruise would form.

“Not like this,” he replied eventually. “Not over the phone.” But before her heart could drop, he spoke once more: “Would you maybe … Could you come over?”

Her ‘yes’ was the sound her heartbeat made into her ears, all-encompassing and important in her own world but not for anybody else.

“You’re here,” he said right away, the second she rang the doorbell. He glanced over his shoulder, yelling out, “Alexa’s over!” before tugging on her wrist up the stairs into the bedroom she used to believe was partly her own when she was a child.

Naturally, she went to his bed straight away, plopping onto it with a bounce. And he stopped and studied her, something akin to a glimmer in his warm honey colored eyes. “What?” she asked self-consciously.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes falling to the floor, small smile etching its way onto his face. “It’s just … I can’t believe you’re here again. You, right here, with me,” he breathed it all out and it was probably the loveliest combination of words she’d ever had the pleasure to hear.

“I’m happy too,” she murmured, watching as he stepped over before sitting a little bit away from her, his movements so hesitant he appeared to be moving in slow motion. “Are you alright?”

The small smile disappeared in an instant and it made her feel as though she said something wrong, that she made his happiness disappear and thus she was momentarily at fault for something. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine. She said I was acting distracted. She was the one to dump me too, which only makes it worse. I feel so small, you know? So small and, I don’t know, all around bad.”

She didn’t so much as make the decision consciously as she did subconsciously, throwing her arms around him, her hug firm. She felt his head fall, eyelashes against the skin near her neck, his eyes blinking as they did whenever he was taking something in. Then, she felt them come up and hold her back before he dropped his head onto her shoulder completely and let a few of his tears out.

“I thought I could trust her,” he confessed and it utterly shattered her soul to pieces to hear this kind of anguish come from the person who used to be her sunshine.

Slipping a hand up the nape of his neck, she began to run her fingers through his hair, the nails lightly rubbing against his scalp in an effort to calm him down. She thought it was working because she felt him stop sobbing, stop sniffling, and soon enough his breathing was calm in that after-crying kind of way. “Do you need me to tell you a joke?” she murmured, and she just knew there was a smile on his face when he nodded into the crook of her neck, almost nuzzling her in the process.

Her blood lit up with a life of its own, summersaulting its way around her whole body, but she kept her cool and started with the first joke she could think of, rousing a bark of a laugh out of him at how terrible it actually was. She pouted at him, discouraged but he urged her to tell another, please, for him and so she did, over and over until they found themselves no longer sitting up but lying down together in the exact same position. Their knees were bent to their stomachs, their hands resting in front of their chests, their arms a hair’s length away from touching. Like that, they whispered stories to one another, Ryan’s mostly about the time he’d spent with Ariana, detailing the few good times and the many other times he hadn’t felt quite happy, quite himself, while Alexa’s were always about the craziness that were her parents or the adventures Raymond forced her to go on with him, and even a single instance when she mentioned Ariana leading all her friends into bullying her cruelly in the girl’s locker room.

When she was finished that one, Ryan’s eyes were filled with sorrow and regret. “Lex,” he went with that nickname that sent her heart aflutter, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, and I should’ve, if only to hug you and tell you jokes. And I’m sorry for that one time when she’d tossed your books, I just …” He looked away and swallowed, his hands clenching. “I was such a jerk.”

“It’s okay,” she said because she knew there wasn’t another person she’d ever forgive so easily. “You’re not a jerk anymore because she’s gone, so it’s fine.”

He still looked troubled, though, and she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, feeling confident to be able to touch him now as much as she wanted. “You see, she was just poison for you. It’s a good thing she’s gone.”

Tentatively, he placed his own hand over hers, his index finger lightly stroking the skin of her knuckle. “Poison,” he repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Poison,” she confirmed, her voice hitching from what his hand was doing.

“You’re not poison,” he announced quietly, eyebrows still furrowed. He said it in a mix of bewilderment and realization, like he only just figured it out.

She smiled shyly. “Good, I don’t wanna be poison to anybody.”

“It’s weird,” he mumbled, “Because it’s suddenly all gone.”

“What is?”

“All the pain,” he answered shyly.

“That’s good,” she whispered. “No more poison in your system.”

“That was fast.” He grinned then, and her heart tugged because it was the dopey grin he always wore, the one she hadn’t seen at all up ‘till then, and the one she’d always thought of as her own personal kind of solace. “All thanks to you,” and his hand closed around hers.

Blushing, she shook her head. “I didn’t do anything special, nothing you never did,” was her simple reply.

“Is it too soon, though, for me to be feeling like this?” he asked, genuinely looking for her answer.

After a shaky breath, “Feeling like what?”

“Like those times before you used to get hurt, when we’d be dancing around, breathless and excited because we’d be together, no more loneliness.” He moves his face closer to hers, their noses almost touching. “I didn’t realize …” but he hesitated, a look of guilt passing over his face.

“Say it,” she urged him, nudging his face with the hand that was still being held in his. “Come on, it doesn’t matter, just say it. It’s me, Ryan.”

It’s us, Ryan.

Right away, his eyes cleared up. “I didn’t realize how lonely I’ve actually been the last few months. But now it’s so obvious, because you’re here and the loneliness is gone. So you’re right. It is you.”

Even though the sort of bliss she felt was all-encompassing in its intensity, she still voiced her doubts, still hid behind the things she didn’t really understand. “But I hardly have any other girl friends and I’m definitely not popular or pretty. People think I’m weird.”

“But those people are also weird. Like Ariana. She’s scared of feet, okay,” and he gave her a ‘that’s crazy’ face, making her giggle, reaching out to meet his foot with hers. “And I find you pretty,” he whispered, once again hesitant but not without his grin.

Happy, she smiled softly, eyes wide with appreciation. “Then, what are we doing from now on?”

“We’re not separating, we’re just going back to being best friends,” he answered, “Only now we get to do this,” before leaning forward so slowly, closing the tiny space between them with his lips, lightly pressing them against hers.

Their togetherness returns to the way it had been when they were in elementary school. The backlash is worse, of course, because Ryan’s still well-liked among his classmates and they take great personal offense the second he returns to being Alexa’s other half. But they leave him be because not even they can act like it they didn’t respect it.

Even Raymond warms up to him. Seeing Ryan be the guy Alexa had described to him, the Ryan from her childhood, was pretty much what sealed the deal. Though being able to talk about sports and video games was a solid bonus.

It took less time than expected for everyone to stop questioning it.

“Ryan, wanna go for pizza?”

“No, I think we should go get some ice cream.”