If You Miss It

26. metaphors

warning: mentions of suicide, read with caution. please skip to the end if you need a recap, or comment here.❤️

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CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

METAPHORS

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When Tariq had said that he wanted Dmitri to get some fresh air, Dmitri hadn't expected him to take him to a fucking park.

Having a mental breakdown in public wasn't exactly in his Top Ten Things To Do Before I Die list.

"Are we good to stop here?" Tariq asked, nudging Dmitri and taking a seat right there on the dry grass. Then, he pulled out a box from his bag, honestly, Dmitri didn't even realise he was carrying a bag, and handed it to him.

"The fuck is this?"

Tariq just shrugged. "I made lunch." What? "Knew you wouldn't eat anything at home, so... I made sandwiches. For you to eat, uh— whenever you're feeling up to it."

Guilt eating at his stomach, leaving him too nauseated to even think about putting food in his mouth, he just said, "I'm really not—"

"You're not hungry," Tariq finished for him, nodding in concession. "I know. But I also know that you need to eat, because you haven't eaten anything today. I really don't care if you're hungry or not, you need to eat. If not now, later. But we're not leaving until—"

"Shut the fuck up," Dmitri muttered, cutting him off mid-speech as he opened the Tupperware container, taking out a sandwich and biting into it. "Happy?"

Through a small laugh and a grin, Tariq hummed, his spirits so visibly lifting when he watched him eat the sandwich. "Who knew that me being rude to you makes you motivated?"

"You talking pisses me off enough that I'd rather do anything than listen to you speak."

Maybe that was rude.

Actually, it was definitely rude, and Tariq didn't deserve that when all he was doing was trying to help.

Still, Dmitri couldn't help the anger bubbling up inside his chest, anger at Tariq for constantly pulling him up when all he wanted to do was sink, at Eden for putting up with the amount of trouble he constantly gave her instead of just telling him to fuck off, but mostly, at himself.

Because it had been years, and this day never failed to revert him back to the person he used to be ages ago.

Mad at everything and everyone, feeling like he didn't have a single person to lean on, like he was a burden to everyone around him.

He just wanted to stay in bed. Away from everyone, so that he couldn't bring them down with him.

"Fair enough." Tariq laughed softly, his arms resting on his knees which were folded up, hair shifting with every small gust of wind that blew past them, the sun directly striking his skin, making it look more golden than brown.

Tariq was genuinely one of the prettiest people Dmitri had ever laid his eyes on, but at that moment, he could not give less of a shit.

Fuck, it hurt to not be able to say anything to Tariq when he so badly wanted to, his body just frozen, his mind frozen, replaying the same words over and over and over and—

"Wanna talk about what's going on up there?" Tariq asked softly, moving his hand, probably to touch his head, maybe knock on it, but pulling it back before he could. "You can if you want to. I won't—"