Flicker Pain

[12] agreement

When I got to class next time, Conrad was playing no games.

Walking inside, I was surprised to see him standing at our table, rather than with his phone in his lap, as he'd been for every other day of the year. He looked at me, and his eyes flashed.

I desperately wanted to be left alone. His words still rang in my ears, from both the day he was  sullen and the day he was kind and asked me how I was. And until I figured him and his motives out — I wanted to stay away.

But in a sudden, humorous twist of reality, Conrad decided that he would talk to me on the day that I didn't want to talk.

"Hey, Maya," His voice was warm, soft, as he searched for his words.

"Hey," I mumbled back as I took my seat.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"That's good." He smiled, seeming somewhat unnerved, "So..." He trailed off, averting his eyes from me.

"What, Conrad?"

"Sorry," He rushed out, "It seemed like you were really upset yesterday and — "

"I'm fine." I cut him off.

"Okay. You're sure?"

"Even if I wasn't, why would you care?" According to him, my problems weren't even problems. I looked up at him for the first time during our conversation, challenging him to tell me any different.

His eyes softened, "You're a nice person, Maya. And you've been much nicer to me than I deserve. I guess...you could consider this an apology for what happened a few days ago."

I could only stare.

He shifted a little before continuing, "You were right — I don't know what your life is like. You just always seem so...undisturbed. But I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't my place."

The tension and anger that had always coated the contours of his face was now drained, and all that was left was underlying sincerity. The dark chocolate eyes were clear, hopeful even. It was strange. It was as though the alter ego of the Conrad Wilkins I'd come to barely know had decided to shine through. It was...nice, actually.

By this time, he was still looking towards me, for a response. I felt my cheeks grow a little warm, and I played with my fingers a bit before answering:

"Thanks," I murmured, "And just because I don't look disturbed means that everything's fine. I'm just good at hiding it."

He stared at me for a few moments, then slowly shook his head, "Then whatever was bothering you yesterday was more than you could handle."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I just want to know if you'll forgive me."

"If it'll make you feel better, then fine, I formally accept your apology," I said softly. The anger had long since disappeared.

He nodded, and an emotion akin to relief spread across his features. He really was quite beautiful, when he was relaxed, "So...are we cool now?"

"Yeah, we're cool."

It felt like more than just casual words. It felt like...some sort of agreement.

An agreement to what? I couldn't tell you.

I didn't even know myself.

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