(a.n. forewarning! this is a long chapter different from the previous ones because i felt this story deserved a longer epilogue. i know this book was quite short. and im grateful for all the love these two boys have received from you throughout! anyways enjoy the last chapter of boyhood! :) )
p.s. i recommend listening to Experience by Ludovico Einaudi while reading this :D
t/w: self-harm
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we were happy for a while. us against the world. us against the monsters.
us against fate.
but then slowly, like gradual rot, like oozing tar, the little world we had built for ourselves began to crumble.
when i first found your razors i had cried. raw and choking. you had found me on the bathroom floor and i saw the look on your face, your wide eyes - filled with shame, grief, and self-hatred. i remember wanting to pull you into a crushing hug so that I could stop time and hold you in that moment forever, frozen--your face nuzzled near my collarbone, my arms around you, stay here forever, i would say.
later i would wish i had.
instead, i sat still on the floor with my arms around my knees and you-- standing within the doorframe, a thousand miles away from me, biting your lip the way you always did when you were trying not to cry.
"tell me where it hurts," i had whispered, "tell me where it hurts so I can fix it."
you only shook your head, "i love you," you said it like an apology.
|
i had found a polaroid of you, taken by a friend of ours at a small gathering we had gone to a while ago. it was a frame of your beautiful face slightly turned to the side, and i had stared at the polaroid for a long while, at your baltic blue eyes, the freckles across your jutting cheekbones - each one of which i had given a name while counting them as you slept in the early hours of the morning. you would always catch my wrist before you awoke and a slow smile would reach your features even before your eyes opened. and it was a smile so pure, so serene that i would find myself suddenly shy, so completely engulfed by your adoration for me.
so when i saw the smile you wore in the polaroid, the slight dimple forming on your left cheek, your large pupils, your eyebrows slightly furrowed in attention, I knew you had been looking at something you loved when the photo had been captured. as i knew all your little expressions and the differences between all your smiles and all your frowns.
"what were you looking at?" i asked you as i handed you the photograph hesitantly. you hadn't spoken to me at all that morning, you were in a mood i had come to learn to not probe after a while. sometimes you'd come around after a few hours. sometimes days when you'd leave the apartment and only return on a sunday after midnight.
