nine

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It was closing to midnight. He came once again around then. I haven't heard his footsteps for a week, but tonight he walked towards here once more. He banged his hand hard against the door, making it creak. It wasn't the soft scared knocks he used to use. It was rough and demanding.

I opened the door slightly to see the reason for his different attitude. Once I've seen, I was determined to tell him to go away and close the door on him once more. I have done it before. I have hurt him before.

But it didn't end up as I have wanted to. The moment I unlocked the door, he pushed the door with force, holding me back up before I fell down. He made me look at his face, into his eyes. There was a suffering man I saw. A drunk sad man, holding me as gently as he could. I regained my balance again a stood at my own feet.

"What are you doing here."

It was a question, but it did not sound like one. I tried to restrain all the emotion that could have seeped out with the question, but my voice cracked as I said it. I hoped that it was dark enough that he couldn't see my face.

"To see you."

It was a brutally honest answer. Almost making me feel dumb for even asking him in the first place. It was the first time I've seen him drunk. He didn't seem much different, but his actions and words were much bolder.

"You're drunk."

It was obvious. But I didn't want to tell him anything more than the obvious.

"I know."

I saw that we were playing the same game. It was obvious what we were saying but the words didn't mean much. It was obvious (or was it?) that I knew that I was going to send him away again. And it was obvious that he knew that as well. But we were trying to extend the moment, to be in each other's presence once more.

He lied on my bed, pulling me close to him. I should have pushed him away. That would have been the sensible thing to do. But my arms would not deny him. And my eyes didn't leave him. So I lay in his embrace, listening to his humming, counting another first: sleeping next to a drunk, broken man.

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