Those Worse Off Than You

I had been thinking about what Ace had said about how feeling really don't go away. I looked at him; but he didn't seem to notice. He was looking at his hands. "Please tell me this feeling will go away," I whimpered.

He looked up from his hands and tried to smile while adding in, "Yea... I guess it just takes time." Then he cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed pink as his eyes began to gloss over. I felt so bad... I started to cry.

Then I started laughing, "Look at us; we're crying for no reason."

He looked up and smiled back, but the look never left his eyes.

My parents walked in: they had been downstairs getting more coffee. My father kissed my mother's cheek and stated, "I'm going to go home and try to get some sleep. Ace, you can come too; the spare room is still empty."

Ace looked up, almost dumbfounded. "I'd rather not," he stated quietly.

"Well, what are you going to do," my dad asked, seeming parcially annoyed.

"Stay here."

"But, you need to get some sleep."

"I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways. Minus well do something useful with my time."

"I would suggest you come home and get some sleep," my father argued.

"Dad," I called loudly. "Just let him stay- he's not doing anyone harm. He helped me. If he says he doesn't want to sleep, then don't make him. The company would be nice."

My father looked down at me with a look I can't say I had ever seen before. "Fine then. I'll be back in the morning," he sighed and left quietly.