She wanted to die.
He wanted to live.
•••
A hand grabbed onto my wrist, yanking me back just as the train rushed past, before I'd even had time to comprehend whether or not I'd carry out the action. I stumbled back into the person's chest, my hear...
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I could feel my head beginning to hurt.
Not a usual headache, but one that only came after a long-crying session, and combined with the strain from shouting through the train window as I had ran to keep up with Romeo, my head was steadily growing in pain as the throbbing ache started out in the sides of my head.
My eyes were closed as I held onto Theo, tears still leaking out between my eyelashes as my shaky breathing and physical trembling was having evident effects on him. Theo's whole body was tensed against mine, his arms around me in comfort as he tentatively rubbed my back, but the shock of seeing me collapse against him reduced him to an uncertain figure desperate to help but unsure of how to do so.
It was easy to say he wanted to be there for me, buthaving to actually be there? That was a completely different thing, and I could tell he was internally panicking over having to put the theory into practice. I was literally a blubbering mess in his arms and he had no context to base any words of comfort on, apprehensive to do anything more in case he might worsen the situation and yet anxious that he wasn't doing enough.
Compared to Romeo, it felt like hugging a stranger; like finally putting all the pieces together in a jigsaw and realising the final picture didn't look how I thought it would. How I wanted it to. I'd never realised that comforting someone was a talent, and seeing Theo so conflicted over how to help made me wish I'd never put him in the position in the first place.
Offering to be there for someone was a sacrifice, and I'm not sure he realised the mental capacity it took to comfort someone and nurse them through their sorrows. It wasn't as simple as just showing up, or saying a few phrases and giving someone a hug; it required an emotional bond, a mutual decision of getting through it together, offering a listening ear at the expense of the distraught it would cause.
That's why broken people gravitated towards each other: it was only when you had experienced pain that you would know how to handle the pain of another. It was as though hurt was a universal language in which people from all walks of life could communicate with, and share the common struggle of internal conflict and trauma.
Not that Theo hadn't experienced pain, but he hadn't gone through anything remotely similar to me. Whereas with Romeo, despite him not fully confiding in me, it had felt like he understood; he had shown empathy through my lowest of lows, and even if he couldn't relate to me he still tried his best to put himself in my perspective and comprehend what it might feel like. Theo and I had no common ground when it came to our respective pain, and with each passing second I could feel him growing more and more concerned as I continued sobbing against him.
"CJ?" he spoke at last, his voice soft as he gently peeled me off him ever so slightly in order to look at me. His honey brown eyes were glinting with sorrow, eyebrows furrowed together in concern as the waves of his light brown hair hung down over his forehead. "Is it okay if we go somewhere else? I could walk you to your house, maybe?"
