Pain 2: Him (H.S)

Chapter 72

My tears have blurred my vision and the only thing guiding me to Alan's room is my memory. I've never seen his heart break the way it did when I told him I was never happy with him, and I don't think it could get worse than that. I know he thinks I only said it to hurt him but my intentions weren't to. He should know me by now. He should know how my brain and feelings work so if he really thinks what I said was out of spite or an attempt to weaken him then he doesn't know me at all. He has known for so long that I wasn't happy I don't get why it came off as a surprise to him.

The moment I reach for Alan's door nob, the bell rings and the wooden door swings open releasing a class full of students. It's bad enough that everyone saw me cry downstairs and the last thing I want is for more people to see me. Everyone already thinks I don't have a soul because of my lack of interest and emotions, but that's only because I honestly don't give a shit about what anyone has to tell me. The only time they've seen me cry was back in January when I told the story of how everyone used me so it's impossible to even express any type of appeal within their conversations. I've always had people stomp and kick me while I was down and you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but what I'm feeling now is nothing compared to anything I've ever felt.

I face the grey locker behind me and turn the combination dial to a random pack lock making it seem like it's mine, and wait for his class to clear. I hate to bother him but I really want to see him. I just want him to hug me the way he did after Harry and I broke up last time. The love, care, and comfort I felt provided me safety and was so perfect that I remember exactly how it felt.

Without sparing another second, I turn to enter his room only to halt when I see him talking to another student.

"You have four assignments to make up; the F.C.A for "1984," the question packet for that as well, yesterday's journal entry, which you'll find on the bulletin in the back, and the vocabulary worksheet for the forms of poetry. Bring those in by next Friday and you'll be back on track again," he instructs handing the guy his papers and they both stand, "my email is on the board so if you need anything, let me know, all right?"

"Yeah, I got it. Thanks a lot Mr. Crossman, your saving my ass you know that?" The guy laughs and so does Alan. I remember him. He used to be one of the boys Liam hung out with. Ian? Andrew? I don't remember. I turn my face when he looks up at me and look the other way to avoid communication, and Alan walks him out.

"Have a good day, Ian. Stay out of trouble." I was right. "Hi, darling. Why aren't you in class?" He seems to be busy. He's talking, but isn't looking at me because he's too focused on the stack of papers he's holding in his hand. He stares at the sheet at the top confusingly, scanning over the students work then nods to himself. Maybe I shouldn't say anything and go. I don't want to intrude. "Where are you going?" He stops me quizzically.

"I just--I'm going to class, I'll talk to you when we get home." My face is inches from the closed door and my reflection through the rectangular mirror is telling me to go to him. It's tired of seeing me this way and it's angry that I've allowed myself to weaken so much.

"Aleevonne, turn around. Why are you crying?" I hear him set the stack down on his desk and the heels of his shoes click towards me and I instantly lose myself. My tired hands covers my warm face as I cry into them and I feel Alan gently grip my shoulders to turn me. He pulls me into his arms and against his chest, worry laced in his features and wraps them around me like a safeguard, holding me the exact way I've been aching for.

It was hard holding it in but it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Suppressing my cries for so long really weighed me down but even now during I can feel a sense of relaxation with the help of his embrace.