Art; 9

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Today was the day and I wasn’t going to spare any minute that could possibly hold me back. I knew it was important to tell him, but I picked the worse time to do it. It’s rarely ever that you’re seeing Anthony smile, it’s like seeing a rare, precious jewel. And after all, it was me being the one to force him to come. To give in and just want to enjoy an art show of his own. And he was. For the first time.

Convincing him to go to it, was probably the best thing I’d done. Because here he was walking around, drinking and thin glass of champagne and talking about art with so many other people. For the first time, you could hear his laughter from across the room. The joyful sound vibrating through the room full of snarky narcissists.

And once in the slightly dim light that cast perfect shadows over his face, I could see him pulling a real smile. Not something he pulls to make people feel better or pity him, but a real smile. It was so beautiful.

And all I could think was that I love him.

I hadn’t seen him too much during the show but knew that I would definitely see him afterward and happier than ever. But ultimately, why had he decided to come? There could be many different excuses. Maybe he wanted to do it for the sake of me not being upset toward him. Maybe he did it because he’s realised it’s worth living in this world. Did he do it for his own good, for a number of reasons, for his own selfish ways? Had I actually convinced him with my own reasoning? But I could tell one thing and it was that tonight he had lost all thoughts and worries of himself. And I was thankful of that.

But now it was all on me. Now was the chance I had to tell him and stop worrying about what’d he’d think or say.

“Anthony?” I started, turning back to face him once we walked into the apartment. I could already feel my hands shaking with nervousness and tears threatening to come up. Because I’ve never told anyone. How could anyone accept it, when I barely accept myself for it? No one should, in all honestly. But I’ve hidden it on myself too much, and the burden is becoming too heavy to carry.

He was smiling brightly at me and that strong tug of guilt was telling me to just keep quiet; that it wasn’t that important. Because I could end up hurting him or he could hurt me. And I would never forgive myself for hurting him.

“I need to tell you something,” I said, my voice shaking and body trembling.
He must’ve realised I was upset, because a minute later when I hadn’t said anything, he embraced me in his arms tightly and gave me a gentle squeeze before stepping back and looking at me patiently. All happiness drowned from his face that was now full of concern. All I could think was that I had caused that.

“What is it?” He asked, a bewildered tone in his voice. I don’t think he’d ever seen me so upset over something. Over something he couldn’t even predict me doing.

“It happened a long time ago, okay?” I rushed out, wanting him to hopefully get the drift that I wasn’t the same; that in maybe some way, he would believe that it was all just a stupid accident. He reluctantly nodded and grabbed hold of my shaking hands. It was so comforting and his soft hands held mine perfectly, yet I was still paranoid.

“My family, friends, and I were in the car, heading back to the house from celebrating Christmas at my grandmas. And since I had just gotten my license a week ago, they thought it would be fun if I drove. But halfway home, the brakes-... the brakes stopped, a-and-” I sniffled, feeling hot tears sting my eyes, slowly cascading over my cheeks.

“Wait, wait, Arthur, they stopped?”

“Stopped working,” I mumbled, wiping at my eyes. “I tried to stop it, but I couldn't a-and the car went spinning. My family, friends… they died all because of a stupid decision I made. It’s just all my fault, Anthony-”

“It’s not your fault,” he said calmly, shaking his head and pushing my bangs out of my face. “The roads were slick, the atmosphere was cold, the brakes must have got messed up. You couldn’t have controlled that.” I started feeling my body shake with sobs, but Anthony was determined to get the message through me. “You didn’t have any power over whether those brakes would work or not-”

“But I said I would, I mentioned how I was eager to drive. And no matter the circumstances they let me. I should've known; I wasn’t thinking about the possibilities. And n-now…”

“You were being free-”

“Careless,” I corrected softly. “Not thinking. And look where it got me.”

“It was an accident, Arthur, you can’t carry this around with you forever. Because it was not your fault. Nobody would’ve thought something that terrible could happen. Not to them, not to you. You couldn’t control faith that got mistaken as a flaw. It wasn’t meant to happen… it was an accident. Not caused by you, but by something you couldn’t sway.” He stopped and looked at me, that gentle hue to his eyes. “Don’t put blame on yourself, okay?”

I silently nodded, giving in and understanding, as he wiped away my stray tears with the ends of his sleeves and pulled me against him. His chest was warm and he was the perfect height. Not absolutely too short, and definitely not tall; but it felt like we were perfectly molded together. And for this time, I wish I could just stay and vanish in the comfort of his arms.

“I’m sorry I never told you before,” I admitted sadly, pulling away to look at him. “I just didn’t want you think of me badly.”

“I would never,” He admitted, the gentleness of his voice and words assuring me that I could trust him and that he wouldn’t go back on his word.

“I’ll keep you here with me, and maybe, we could go see your parents some day.”

He was being serious. My eyes glazed over his features to track any sign of unsureness, but he was being serious. Nobody would've ever offered me that, it’s great enough that he’s letting me stay. I could barely ever go see my parents just because of the massive weight I felt on my shoulders every time I went to the graveyard. But with Anthony I wouldn’t have to worry about stressing over the amount of guilt I feel.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

he's a portrait {frerard} Where stories live. Discover now