[10] don't you know

16.6K 868 50
                                    

He came back a few days later. He played it off as an unexpected bout of sickness to the teachers and students. But he couldn't fool me. Too many dots were connected for me to believe that it was just chance.

If he really had been sick, why did he still avoid my eyes?

I'd been practicing what I would say to him throughout those days that he wasn't here. I wanted to apologize for being the reason why his eyes refused to leave his lap. I wanted to comfort him, to make him realize that nothing he'd said was anything to be ashamed of. I wanted to open his eyes, to make him see that he wasn't the only one out there: I was too.

But how to make it sound right without scaring him away? How to make him trust me, how to make him not look at me with that childlike innocence in his gaze?

I eventually told myself: stop thinking. Stop speculating. You can't control how he'll take it, and you will never be able to. The only thing to do is try.

So try I did.

At the end of class, I stopped him as he went to leave. He looked down at me, eyes wide and somewhat threatening. I leaned in close, as close as he would let me.

And then I began to speak:

"You're not alone out here, Conrad. I've had my fair share of bad days, too," He stiffened as I continued, "Please don't think that you're the only one who doesn't have a perfect life. Things aren't the best for me either."

"You have no idea what it's like," He muttered.

Something in me snapped after his blatant disregard of my words, "I don't? You think so? Well let me tell you something, Conrad: you have no idea what my life is like."

I turned and stormed off. Faintly, I heard him say, "Wait..."

I didn't let myself stay to watch the fireworks go off. I didn't let myself stay to see his anger, embarrassment, whatever reaction that my words warranted.

I was too mad to want to wait for him.

* * *

Flicker PainМесто, где живут истории. Откройте их для себя