Seeking Solace

15 - How Can I Be More Than Nothing To You?

He never calls.

I stay up as late as possible, leave my phone on fairly loud so I can hear if he texts me, check my email obsessively until I'm told to get off the computer. I don't mean to fall asleep, but it's the sound of my alarm that wakes me up instead of a message from him the next morning and I jump awake only to feel the worry from the night before come rushing back with open arms.

I feel dread pool in my stomach, spreading outwards until it's all that's in my head, this thought that things are worse at home for him than at school or just as bad,this thought that's black and heavy like tar. I can't shake it off, no matter how many times I try to tell myself that he's okay and just didn't get around to calling me.

But it's the first time he's never done something he said he'd do. Of course he forgets sometimes, but nothing like this...and it worries me.

The weather outside kind of helps a little. It rained while I was asleep, and now in the gray morning light, there's a musk of fog that clings to exposed skin. As I step out, I feel that familiar comforting cloud of sticky warmth that comes after the road is soaked to black and the grass shivers under the still dew drops left behind. The fresh smell is everywhere, the gravely scent of the sidewalk and the bright crisp of plants outstretched to catch the tiny rays of sunlight that somehow manage to break through the gray. It's my favorite kind of weather. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because it's at these times that I can hide in heavy coats and jackets and move as a black shadow through the streets. I like to hide. It's much better than being in a spotlight when I have nothing to show anybody.

So the rain sets me into a slow, pensive mood and I'm all ready to walk to school like I always do, when I almost walk into someone going the other way.

“Sorry!” we both say, taking a step back hurriedly to let the other pass. And then we both look up and really see the other's face.

His expression is sheepish before he looks down at his feet and twists his fingers together. His hands are pink from the cold, his face flushed the same color. Even though he uses his hair to cover his face, I see him bite his lip to try and hide his smile.

Just seeing him makes me forget everything I was worried about, about him being hurt, not being able to see him, about not being with him if he needed me, about why he didn't call. My heart doesn't stop, it throws itself against my ribcage and it's fast and painful but then there's adrenaline and euphoria pumping through my veins and before I can think about it, I've leaped on him and got him crushed in a hug that squeezes the air out of him.

I bury my head in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of cigarettes and washed hair and Gerard. I can feel his heartbeat in his neck, thudding as hard and fast as mine and I hold him even tighter, probably cutting off blood circulation too while I'm at it. My hand's still sore from yesterday, and I've got an impressive bruise across my palm, but that doesn't matter any more. I'm not going to let go until it's life-threatening.

His arms come around me then, gentle and careful as if I'll break, even though I'm slowly depleting his oxygen levels by crushing him like this. I finally let go, resting my head on his shoulder and just breathing in the moment. A part of me, that weird, stupid sappy part of me has always wanted something like this and to have it now...it'll take some adjusting. Actually, a lot of adjusting.

“I wanted to...I thought we could walk together,” he says softly. I feel cold fingers against my cheek and flinch away. “Sorry,” he says, but I pull his hand back and press it against my face, ignoring the reflex that tries to pull me away from the frozen ice of his hand.

“You're cold,” I say needlessly, but I'm not sure if he's paying attention because he's looking at me with those eyes that I only started to see yesterday.