Help Me Close My Eyes

9 ~ when i dream.

"I would never lie to you,
But it's hard when the truth is such a shame.
I never wanted to say I'm sorry,
But sorry is all I can say.
Is it really all that bad when I dream?
Yeah, I dream about you."
- Cisco

***

Ira's POV

As I stare out the car window watching trees and open fields roll by, my wet hair drips cold water down my neck. I shrug my hoodie higher up on my shoulders in response and close the A/C vent that's been pointed on me.

I glance at Liam out of the corner of my eye to see his gaze fixed firmly on the road in front of him. Unconsciously, I adjust the shirt I'm wearing. It's a little too big for me, and I keep getting the urge to pull it up.

I know he said it wouldn't be weird, but I feel so strange wearing his ex-girlfriend's clothing. It's like I went digging through the graveyard of their dead relationship.

I mean, I suppose if these things were special to her, she wouldn't have left them behind, but what if they're special to him? What if this is the shirt she wore on their first date? Or the jeans she wore the first time they said I love you?

When I emerged from the bathroom with these items on, he didn't say anything and his face remained impassive, but he's always like that. It's not exactly an indication of how he's feeling.

On another level, it actually feels strange knowing that he had such a serious girlfriend at all. To be honest, I'm sort of jealous.

Not of the girl, of course. I'm just jealous that he somehow achieved normal, that he had someone in his life - someone real.

I tried, but I never really could get there myself. I mean, how could I? He was always there, reminding me that I wasn't like everyone else - every time I closed my eyes.

I've never been great at controlling my thoughts. I've never been particularly skilled at forcing things out of my head, at holding onto reality, at not letting my hopes, and more often my fears, get the best of me.

No matter how much I told myself that he wasn't real, there was always a part of me that wished he was - a part of me that wished that the one person in my world who understood me was actually in the world.

Of course, I knew that was ridiculous, but it never stopped being hard.

I tried to date people, I did. I went out, had a few dates, even had a few almosts a couple years back. But none of them were the kind of person I could trust with who I was, and there's only so close you can get with someone when you can't share all of yourself with them.

We'd be dating for a while, things would be good, and then a few bad dreams and we'd just hit this wall. They'd ask me what was wrong, and I couldn't tell them. Things would always end soon after.

An alternative song starts softly drifting in through the car speakers as we enter an area with radio reception. Liam reaches out and lightly turns the knob on the stereo, raising the volume just enough to where I can make out the words.

I've lost a few good friends lately,

And I think it's my fault not theirs.

I was never a fake or phony,

I just needed a change I guess.

There's a distinct contrast between the happy lilt of the acoustic guitar being strummed and the lonely words. I nod my head along to the music, and Liam notices my movement.

"Do you know this song?" he asks, breaking the silence that had been looming over us ever since we left the house.

"No, but I like it," I answer. "Who's it by?"