Skinny Love

two o'clock a.m.

"Adam Hale. Adam Hale. Adam Hale. If I repeat his name enough times in my head, it sort of melts into the word Adamale. Not sure what it means, but it looks important nonetheless. I do not know what I see in Adam Hale. Maybe the eyes. Maybe the closed off yet strangely humorous personality. All I know right now is that I'm actually going to see him in twenty three minutes. But I refuse to lose him. Even though we all know that whatever this is, is an illusion and that the fact that we are not going to stay together is inevitable."

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JOURNAL ENTRY FROM LYDIA BEAU TODAY 2:37 A.M

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THE NIGHTS WENT BY MUCH quicker while I was talking with Adam Hale rather than when I was onlooking fake birds, falsely trapped in my bedroom wallpaper. We talked about every aspect of life, and implored through every nook and cranny of our existence. I found out that his favorite color was blue, he was allergic to fur, he has never had a girlfriend in his life, has never drunk alcohol, and he was adopted. His sister was, too. They were adopted into the Hale family. 

Once, I asked him if he was an insomniac, too. He responded with the slightest shake of his head. "No. I just stay awake," he said.

"But you must have a reason for it," I protested to him, not believing him in the slightest. When Adam was lying, he played with his fingers, tapping them against the other, which is what he was doing right now. I rolled my eyes when he shrugged his shoulders.

"I just don't like sleep," he finally stated, after pondering the answer to my question for a moment, even though his body attitude said otherwise. His head was leaning against his hand and his body was slumped, as if he was exhausted. 

"Bullshit. Your eyes are drooping right now," I pointed out. The purple rings under his pupils were slowly getting darker gradually. It messed with his vampire complexion. "Adam Hale," I told him softly. "If you are getting your ass up at three in the morning to talk to me at a coffee shop when we could be doing this during the evening, then I want you to go home and crawl into bed and sleep," I stressed. I didn't want him doing this for me. Otherwise, I would feel like there was a debt I had to pay him afterwards. After all, that was how karma worked, didn't it?

Adam scoffed. "Why do you think everything is about you?" he asked, in a tone so dryly, my olive cheeks flushed. He was right. 

"I don't. But I don't want you doing this. It's unhealthy."

He squinted his eyes at me incredulously, as if he didn't know who he was looking at. "And I bet it's a whole lot healthier for you, isn't it?" he snapped, harshness seeping into his tone.

I slumped my shoulders in defeat and looked at him. Already I could see the remorse and guilt in his eyes. "I thought I told you the first day we met-"

"Five days, two hours, and seventeen minutes," Adam piped up softly, and I could almost hear his plead for forgiveness dripping off each word. He was lucky that underneath all the flab that I had on my skin, lay a cruel black heart with a soft spot for Adam Hale. 

"-Yeah, but I thought I fucking told you that it was a medical condition," I stated quietly. Even though I didn't mind he said it, I still wanted him to feel guilty. He should at least know that what he said was wrong. "I can't help it," I said, twirling a piece of my hair around my finger. When I released it, it came out in a wave.

Adam searched my eyes and when he seemed satisfied that he saw my forgiveness, he told me, "Your eyes are green. Chartreuse. Green, but a lot of yellow in it."

This was another thing that I had only recently found out about the boy sitting before me, tapping his fingers on the hardwood round table in Morse Code once more. In a situation where he could make no comment, either he didn't know what to say or there was an awkward silence (which seemed to be happening frequently between us), he would sputter trivia about the person he was talking to.