Supernovas & Escapism

Chapter Twenty-Six

      Pieces of me are scattered everywhere. There's no point in trying to pull myself together because I've gave up hope in finding happiness at the whole me that would be left standing.

     For the longest time I've always felt like I was the sum of some broken parts. The reason I felt so flawed, so fundamentally fractured was because every part of me was damaged. It was far easier to put myself back together when there were fifty pieces. But over the years those parts became damaged and frayed and split themselves further. And that doesn't even go into the fact that there are some parts of me that I will never find again.

     That was my problem though. Truly, it did always feel like I was looking for the missing parts of myself. And now more than ever I realized just how shattered I was, because this façade that I was stretching out was beginning to crumble and beginning to crack under my fingertips.

     This was the first time in my life that I've ever felt complacent in who I am. It comes like a sucker-punch to the gut because part of me realizes that this guy in front of me doesn't care. He's doing everything to be my friend, and I'm doing everything to push him away.

     And I wish I could say it was a reactionary thing, but it's not. If anything, my heart is where my brain should be, constantly giving me reasons to not let myself get too close.

     But I want him and his soft-spoken words. I want him when he's so distantly cold that it hurts me. I want him when he's ready to put his fists through the nearest wall. I want him like this now, when he is standing before me, trying to make me feel like more of a person than I could ever hope to be.

     It hurts to cry, both figuratively and literally. My lungs still feel like they're on fire, and the more I find myself with salty lines running down my cheeks, the more I can feel the throbbing pain. I want to push past it, but this is the first time in a long time where I've actually felt something. I'm aching to hold on to it, despite how much it hurts. It's the pain that stops me from feeling numb, and it's a welcome surprise to feeling absolutely trapped.

     His room feels so scarce, like it was made for someone who wasn't planning on staying very long. There's no pictures, nor any posters hanging around and it feels like a stark contrast to the rest of the home. His hallways had been littered with family portraits, and every stretch of carpet seemed to have a different stain that told some story I'd be eager to hear. But this was different. I noticed how familiar it all felt, but we seemed to live like this for two different reasons.

     Me, I lived with one foot out the door so that when my chance did finally come, I could leap and make my great escape. But Xavier's room felt like he didn't want anything to tie him down to a place. The differences were there; closets lined with clothes and everything in the room finding its own particular corner.

     It hurt just a little bit to be reminded how not everyone was living on the edge of a line. Xavier had a family that loved him, and it showed. If it didn't, he would be sporting the same bruises as myself.

     With his hands to my face, I wanted to stop. Involuntarily, I winced, and he seemed to pull back ever so slightly.

     Any other time I would have brought it back to my face, but it had been a long night. Well for him it had been a long night. For me, it felt more like a long life.

     "I'm sorry," I spoke softly so as not to wake anyone else up. Raising an arm to my face, I roughly wiped away the salty tears, sucking through my teeth at the slight sting of rubbing my badly bruised eye. "I don't know why I'm crying."

     The words felt like such a lie coming from my mouth, and judging from Xavier's raised brow, I could tell he was more than a little skeptical. I could hardly look at him right now, even with the one good eye.

     He shrugged, turning away. His posture remained the same—calm and attentive—but there was a definite shift in his own mood. I suppose I couldn't exactly blame him right now. We were just now trying to get back into the swing of knowing each other.

     I wish I could say that me ignoring him was all his fault. I wish I could say that jealousy was something that I was immune too. I wish I had the words in my head just to convey how I felt, and to make him know the reasons why I became so distant. Meaninglessly wishing for these things though was not going to make it so.

     "Are you sure you're okay with me being here?" I had asked, my breath only hitching slightly through fear and the still gentle crying running through me. "I mean, your fami-"

     "They won't mind," he snapped back, cutting me off as he did so. It was amazing how his voice could still hold the same rough timbre and yet still carry itself so softly. "Even if they do, I don't exactly care." Again, he shrugged, conveying more with simple body language than he ever would with his words. If only he could understand it was one of the things that made me so infatuated with him.

     I was ready to say something back, but I was cut off by his forceful stare. It was paralyzing just to be caught in his gaze.

     "I'll get sheets and stuff," he said softly, lowering his head. "You can sleep on the floor tonight and we can talk about this stuff in the morning when it'll actually matter."

     Nodding my head slowly, I let out a meek "okay," wondering just how much sleep I would manage to get with him a few feet away. The thing is that I was grateful for having somewhere to go that wasn't home, or somewhere where he might find me. At the same time though, I couldn't help but feel the dynamic of this friendship might change.

     I couldn't afford to lose a friend like Xavier.

     When he came back, he carried with him a few blankets of varying sizes and colours. His eyes met mines once more, and this time it was he who seemed a little bit sheepish. He dropped the armful of linen and cotton down on the floor. Xavier turned round once more, ready to leave to gather more.

     A heavy breath left me.

     And before I could think about it so had the words.

     "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with me." My words had stunned him, because before he could reach the door, he had stopped. In that moment, time was almost as still as he was. "I want you to be my friend, but if this is going to change anything, then I don't want to be here."

     Slowly, he turned on his heels, his soft smile greeting me and causing he to drop my guard. This was what I had not been expecting. I had expected a somberness to him, something that echoed the words I had used because he knew that I was right.

     But no, he was calm, and his movements seemed far more collected than the ones I could hope of giving up.

     "Garth, the one thing you have to know about me," he said, his smile bursting into an almost childish grin. "Is that I really don't give a shit."