The Pain of We (ON HOLD)

18

The bed under me shifted and I opened my eyes slightly. My vision was blurry. I watched as a figure walked across the room and walked through a door. I shut my eyes again, the sound of running water clear. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep again.

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me awake.

"Lark,"

I blinked. You were smiling down at me. I smiled. "Morning," my voice cracked.

You smiled.

I sat up and you sat down beside my knees. "I brought you breakfast," You handed me a tray of food.

An omelet, a cup of tea, and two pieces of toast. I put a finger to my lips, cupping my hand over my mouth. I bit the inside of my lip.

"I hope you're not allergic to anything I made," you said, looking down at the food. You glanced up at me, your smile dropping. "Oh my God. Are you okay? Is it the food? God. I'm so sorry. I just thought—"

"Jarsen," Tears started to form in my eyes. "This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time."

I started to smile. How did I get so lucky to meet you? I don't deserve any of this.

"Are you going to cry?"

I shook my head. "No." I laughed a little. "I'm going to eat."

You smirked, one corner of your lips pulling up. I picked up the fork and cut off a piece of the omelet. A mixture of different veggies spilled out, partly held together by creamy cheese. I took a bite and relaxed. I swallowed, and smiled. "Jarsen, this is amazing."

You smiled. "I'm glad you like it. My, uh, my dad helped me a little."

I looked down at the omelet. "How much is a little?"

"A lot." I quirked an eyebrow at you. "Okay, I made the toast. He made the omelet."

I smiled. "It's delicious all the same. Want a bite?"

You shook your head. "I had a pop tart earlier." You smiled. "You slept a long time." You glanced at your digital clock. "It's 10:30."

I smiled sheepish. "Your bed is really comfortable."

You shrugged.

"I really like you, Larkin,"

I looked down at the omelet. I didn't say anything. "I like you too."

"No, Lark. I mean... I really like you... I love you."

I shook my head. "No one can love someone as broken as me."

You took my chin in your fingers and raised my head so I was looking straight into your eyes. "No," you shook your head. "I found a way."

...
I sat curled up in one of your sweatshirts, your arm draped lazily over my shoulders. I felt so relaxed sitting there on your couch, like nothing could possibly harm me. Like I was almost invincible, but not quite.

You glanced down at me. "Are you crying?"

I wiped my face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "No." I didn't take my eyes off of the movie.

"You are so don't hide it." You smirked and I elbowed you. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You're laughing at my crying. Sorry I relate to the character, next time I'll be a heartless asshole." I looked into your hazel eyes. "Why would Disney make such a sad movie, anyway? This is almost worse than The Lion King."

"I remember watching this in third grade as a class without feeling a thing. I thought the book was stupid."

"Never read the book. This is the first time I've seen the movie. We read A Dog's Life in third grade. Now that was a sad book. A good book. But sad."

"Does the dog die? The dog always dies in the movies."

"I don't think the dog dies. It's been a while since I've read it."

You shrugged. "What time do you need to get home?"

I shut my eyes and leaned back into your arm. "If I had my wish, it'd be never. But I don't know. Whenever."

You nodded. "I'll take you home later. For now, let's just enjoy this."

So we did.

...
Monday after school, I worked hard and fast at the liquor store, smiling at every customer that walked in. Candice noticed quickly.

"What's up with you?" She asked once the only customer left. "You're much happier than usual."

I shrugged. "I guess I just had a good weekend. Is that a problem?"

Candice narrowed her eyes, then smiled. "You banged that boy a yours. Didn't 'ya?"

I looked down at the bottle of Windex in my hand. "What I do with him is my business, and not my employer's."

She laughed. "You did. That's okay. I got all the guys when I was your age."

I rolled my eyes. "You're full of shit."

"Hey—don't make me fire you."

I sprayed the window. "You wouldn't fire me. I'm too good of help." I started to wipe down the window, smiling in the reflection. "And I'm cheap."

...
When I got home, Dad was pissed. He managed to get a few hits on me before I escaped, running down the driveway and not stopping at the road. I kept running, despite the growing chill or the darkness. Headlights would blind me as cars passed.

Then I heard the most peculiar thing:

The Eye of the Tiger.

It was faint at first, growing closer and louder fast. Then, when it was right behind me, it was constant. The car was right behind me, and someone was blasting the song through their speakers.

I dared to look over my shoulder.

The car pulled up beside me, all the windows rolled down. I didn't dare to look into the cab.

"What's a girl like you doing out so late? Running off to your boyfriend house?"

I clenched my jaw. The music was turned down, and he spoke again. "Lark, get in the car."

How'd he know my name?

I looked into the car beside me and saw your stupid grin. I stopped jogging and glared at you. I got in the car, my breathing heavy.

"That wasn't funny." I said.

"Naw," you said and started driving again. "It was hilarious."

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