Quiet Boys.

I walked out of the house. It was sunny. And down the street she was there, sitting on the corner, the curb.
I ran over to her.
We were both covered in sleep, but Parker was crying.
I guess I’d never thought about her crying. Thought I’d never see the day.
“What is it?” My voice was trembling.
She stared up at me with large eyes, shining, wet.
“I remember tasting the wine on your lips. Mine burned from it too. We went too far.”
She was whispering, it sounded sweet. I sat down next to her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and made to touch her face, to wipe away the streak of tears. She put her hands on me before I could though.
“Don’t be sorry. Everyone’s sorry. It’s not you. It was just us being human. It’s not really such a big thing anyway. Do you remember? I don’t remember everything.”
“Neither do I.”
For a moment it was quiet. But I had to ask.
“Do you regret it?”
I was too quiet.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“You know, Ivan. I’m just as scared as you all the time. I’m just as bad with people as you are. I hate everyone, you know? The way we’re all trying to be something. Humanity is completely idiotic. I get my strength from you. Do you see that now? You see me as this perfect being sometimes I think. You think I’m so courageous. I guess I just like to live, you know? But you’ve inspired me just as much as I’ve inspired you. I want you to know that.”
Now she let me wipe her tears away, her face falling against my palm. It was so early, and I kissed her forehead.
There was understanding now. Surprise, with mutual happiness. I finally saw her scars.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
“I want to spend winter with you, and all the times after that,” Parker said.
Parker. Parker. Parker.
“Parker,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”