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"Andy? What happened?"
"He's gone"
It was just a nightmare.
"Love, it's time to wake up" I stroke his hair, moving it from in front of his forehead and leaving a sweet kiss on his lips, not lingering for more than two seconds. He doesn't wake up, too tired to even mumble something. He came home from work late, doing a colleague's shift for thirty minutes. Thirty minutes that destroyed him more than he already was. "Do you want to stay home today?" he nods slightly, his eyes still closed, his hands wrapped around the blanket, he almost seems to be embracing it. He looks like a child. He is beautiful.
"If I skip school, I'm fucked," he murmurs, the words almost incomprehensible, but not enough to not allow me to understand them.
"What?"
"I got a C in the..." he can't finish the sentence since he's tired.
"Ryan?"
"Mmm"
"You got a C in..."
"Last... four tests" I close my eyes, taking a long sigh.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because I knew you'd be mad" he opens his eyes wide, looking straight into mine.
"I would have helped you"
"You would be angry"
"Rye, just stop saying I would be angry when I actually would offer my help."
"See, this is what I was talking about"
"I'm not angry"
"Yes, you are"
"Please" he sits cross-legged, now he seems fully awake and looks like another person.
"Why can't you understand that even if I don't tell you everything is okay?"
"What are you implying?"
"Every time you want to know everything about everything I do and it's stressful"
"I don't-" I feel the tears coming their way quickly, not so much from the fact that he didn't tell me about the C's he got, but from the fact that he just accused me of being stressful because I care about him. He's my boyfriend, we live together, he cares about me and I worry about him, is there something wrong with that?
"Plus I can't tell you anything, because either you get angry or you start crying and I always find myself... trapped"
"Trapped? Is this what you feel being with me?"
"No, baby, I didn't mean that" reality seems to have just hit him, making him come back to reality.
And I would like to blame him, but I can't. It's true, I am interested in what he does and I worry, maybe also because no one has done it with me for years and I know what it means. I start crying because I don't know how to control my emotions, a little bit it's me and a bit 'are the hormones, but to say that I'm not very sensitive would be mean lying, but I'm not angry and I'm sorry if I turned out this way.
