APOLLO ✓

7.

golden boy falls ;

Dear someone,

I'd managed, in my grief stricken condition, to push away everyone, but not Starry Eyes. I was grateful, but that didn't mean I was out of the woods yet.

His devastatingly blue eyes bore into me, and I felt like I was that kid in sixth grade again, standing before judgmental eyes. Only, at the back of my mind I knew those eyes held no judgment and it was merely my own reflected in them.

I wanted to be better, I wanted to get over this depression, but the best I could do was fake a smile.

Fake a smile and hookup with every girl who was willing.

Fake a smile, hookup with every girl and party wildly till Starry Eyes would find me passed out somewhere the next morning. He'd help me to my bed, and if we were closer, to his own.

Despite all the people I'd pushed away, most of the guys on the football team still hung around and tried to support me for a while, though in their attempt to help, they ended up doing more bad than good - aiding and abetting in my bad behaviour. I could hardly blame them for not knowing better.

My mother let me be, turning a cold shoulder to me most of the time. She was grieving in a way that became detrimental to my mental health because I needed her and she just couldn't do it. Ba was always more of the emotional support.

I suppose I couldn't blame her either.

Everyone was just trying to help me move on, or do so themselves, but no one besides Starry Eyes knew what I needed.

And when he tried to help, tried to put me back together, I'd push and push.

Till my body gave out on me. Till I couldn't breathe. Till I became detached from reality.

Why wouldn't he just give up like everyone else?

I didn't want him close to me anymore because I couldn't lose another person that I loved.

I couldn't.

"I brought some aspirin and water, you can take them now-"

"I want you to leave," I'd come to a conclusion.

"What?" He asked dumbfound. When it registered, he looked at me like he did every time I'd done this before, "No," he said flatly.

"Why don't you get it!" I screamed - I'm sure I was red in the face, despite my darker complexion, the red still came through when I became all sad and angry, "I don't want you around! You're annoying and a pest and I don't care about you anymore! I want you gone! Now, now, now!"

"And I'll say to you what I say every fucking time, you asshole," he seethed, "I'll die before I leave you to go through this alone."

"Then fucking die."

He'd looked at me astonished at first then he turned and left the room silently, tears brimming in his eyes. I was so fucking stupid. The worst person. I hated myself more than anything.

But minutes later I heard the tv play loudly and I let out a shaky breathe I hadn't realised I was holding.

He stayed.

I took my blanket and slowly made my way to him. When he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, he turned around. He'd wiped the tears but I could see the light trail marks.

"It's your favourite show," he said simply.

I looked at him, really, honestly looked.

Fuck. I love him so much.

I sat next to him, pulling his back to my chest, as I kissed his head, cried, apologised and held him like he held all my will to live.

And he did.

- golden boy