Bound By Pain

16

I spent most of the weekend with Grey. I took an off week at work so that I can check on him after school. He's still broken down about his grandmother but he's progressing- as much as a grief stricken guy can, that is. The crying has stopped and he spends at least an hour out of his house, either on walks or sketching. The sketching part is mostly portraits of me and Henry but if it can get him to forget for a while then I'll take it, no matter how many hours i have to sit statue still on a stool.

Spending time with Henry has been a sort of highlight of his days lately. The carefree presence he poses gives Grey comfort. At least that's what I like to think.

I hitch my bag up higher on my shoulder. "I'll see you guys at school tomorrow?", I ask Todd and Charlie. They both nod. "I give them a small smile. "Don't be late, thanks for the ride."

I shut the door and wave the couple goodbye as they drive away. My skin just registered the cold air and the frigid atmosphere. I rub my hands on my arms and try to generate some warmth.

It works but not as well as I'd like it to. It serves me well enough until I reach Grey's house and bound up the stairs, onto his porch. On a normal day he'd be sat in his living room watching a series to keep himself busy, anything that doesn't involve death or grief. The system was showing progress.

I'm alarmed when I knock on his front door and don't get a response. I do the smartest thing I can think of: I get into the house. The fact that the door wasn't locked has me thinking someone broke into his house.

I walk as stealthily as I can into his house and check everywhere in my peripheral before moving further in. It's quiet, eerily so. I make for the living room and find the television is on but muted. The actors and actresses just blabber away with no sound whatsoever coming out of their lips. My focus moves else where- to the smell of smoke invading my nose. It's a familiar smell. One I recognize as cigarette smoke. I follow it to the kitchen and find Grey.

He's sat on the floor a cig in hand. He's got a glass bowl next to him and everything around him just shows he's been smoking for quite a while, long enough to have gone through a whole box.

I don't bash. Not externally, at least. It's my fault he's smoking. I gave him a cigarette the day he visited my house and guilt is all I feel flowing through my veins now. I shouldn't have done it. It was so irresponsible, so stupid.

I walk over to him and sit next to him. I pry the cig out of his hand and put it in the bowl. I plop myself down next to him. We sit in silence for five whole minutes. I'm thinking of how I should stop him, apologize for getting him into this mess. But when I brave myself to speak, he speaks first.

He smiles lightly. "It's funny how this world works." He starts. He doesn't look directly at me but his gaze is fixed on something next to me.

"First I lost my parents.", He shakes his head that bitter smile still on his lips. " Then my grandmother. What next? How may times does one have to fight loss and grief for it to become easier?"

That's when he makes eye contact. His eyes gleam with sorrow and it hurts to know i can't click my fingers and he'd be okay. I can't hug his pain away or bring back his grandmother.

So I do what I can. I respond. "It doesn't go away.", He looks at me eagerly. "Not completely, at least. You carry it with you for the rest of your life but it won't feel the same. It will feel better. Less like a terrible loss and more like a way to peace. Some days will be worse than others and, by God, some will be amazing but the pain will stay with you. It all comes down to one choice, a choice only you can make, will you let it kill you or will you let it build you and give you reason to live, and live better."

He nods. My answer seems to satisfy him and I'm glad. I let my words settle in for a couple of minutes before i finally ask the question that has been begging to be let out.

"Why did you do it?", I ask calmly. "Why did you smoke?"

He expels a deep sigh and i take it the topic is a bit touchy for him but he responds either way.

"I needed to feel something, anything.", Was his short response. He doesn't make eye contact. He just sits in place and in silence. Not the comfortable kind. It's after a few seconds that he breaks the silence.

"Don't worry, I won't do it again. Not excatly as nice as you make it seem."

I chuckle and he loosens up too. He rests his head on my shoulder and I feel him vibrate with laughter. It lifts the world's heaviest weight off my shoulders. We sit that way and talk over random topics for a while until the sun begins to set and rays of sunlight disappear, allowing the night to take over.

We're sat on the floor in silence, the comfortable kind, this time and I assume Grey is dozing off, if he's not completely asleep. I shuffle my body in the slight darkness of his kitchen and let him lay he's head more comfortably on my shoulder. I've taken to smoking too. Ease my nerves and stop thinking too much. What matters is what's happening right now.

"Why do you do it?", Grey whispers breaking the peaceful silence around us.

I furrow my eyebrows in utter confusion. "What do you mean?" I ask.

He raises his head from my shoulder and sits upright. Our eyes meet for the slightest second, his a pale green lit lightly by the last few rays of sunlight and mine a cloud of confusion.

"Smoking", he says. I'm quiet for a while. Why is my smoking suddenly a topic worth chatting over is beyond me.

"Why do you do it?", He asks brow furrowed. "Why do you hurt yourself?"

I suck in a puff of smoke from my cigarette. "To live we must be able to hurt and we can't possibly endure that without a tad bit of help.", I respond lowly.

"This isn't one of our English classes, Bee.", Grey parries.

I let out some smoke and chuckle some. "Fine.", I pause. "Because i deserve anything beyond terrible that comes my way."

A look of pity crosses over his features. I hate it. I hate the way anything about me brings about more destress than happiness. I hate how I have to act happy infront of Henry and how noone truly understands.

"Don't do that.", I say finishing off my cigarette and tossing it in the bowl. "I don't like pity."

His eyes drop to the floor. He tries he's best to shake off the pity radiating off of him but it's still there, lingering. Grey then gives up on that topic of conversation with one last input.

"You deserve the whole universe, you just haven't found the one to give it to you yet."