Crawling in the Dark

Charlotte

Xenith and I lapsed into an easy friendship. He provided the comfortable companionship I had longed for throughout my childhood. I wasn't able to have any close friends in New Mexico. Close friends noticed too much.

Some parts of our friendship weren't easy, there was sometimes an underlying tension between us. There were certain moments that made me long for more than just friendship. Apparently, I was the only one who felt this way, because Xenith was never anything more than friendly and pleasant.

Throughout our month of friendship I learned a lot about him. He was sarcastic and a bit cynical, although he was caring and charming. He was far from verbose (I had to help him with his English assignments), but still straightforward very good at math. He often tutored me in math, which was not my forte. Xenith also had a monstrosity lurking in his past. He avoided mirrors, and we only ever studied at my house (which prompted numerous awkward questions from my mother).

Xenith wasn't my only friend, I was friends with a girl named Pandora, and two girls both named Ramona.

Pandora was unique, to say the least. The first thing I saw when I looked at her is very short black hair with a white skunk stripe down the middle. She wore clothes that were mostly from Goodwill and she looked like she just hopped out of a time machine from the 80's. She was kind, and she instantly invited me to sit with her at lunch. Pandora was always encouraging when it came to Xenith. I appreciated her, and she was probably the closest thing I had to a girlfriend. Surprisingly, I was also the closest thing she had to a girlfriend as well. It was odd that she was so kind and accepting, yet she had very few friends.

Ramona Kabbe was very shy and quiet and also extremely tall. Conversation wasn't always necessary with Ramona, which I was thankful for (I wasn't always the most socially apt person). Ramona 'Poppy' Verdes was the exact opposite and best friend of Ramona Kabbe. Poppy was short, but she was loud and outgoing enough to make up for her height. Sometimes she didn't know when to stop chatting, but she never spoke badly of anyone.

My school life was going well, but there was something that had me on edge. Actually, more like someone. Someone as in the boy who was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend.

I had feelings for Xenith. Feelings that made me want to hide from him, but also made me want to be around him every second of the day. It wasn't just that I thought he was gorgeous, (which I did) he had the most beautiful soul, even if it was hidden by all of the pain he was in.

The feelings I had were only encouraged by how he kissed me or felt me up every time he was high (which wasn't that often, actually). He didn't mean to encourage my feelings, I was sure. I wasn't his fault that I was falling for him. I knew that I would've fallen for him no matter what.

I was thankful that I was the only one who remembered those private moments that we had. Moments that only got more intense as they drove my feelings on.

It was easy to remember one instance when I walked behind the gym to hang out with his as was our unspoken agreement (I would be there for him when he was high, he would be there for me when I got stressed out).

We were holding hands, (not a rare happening, even when he wasn't high) and leaning against the gym when he pulled my body to his and began kissing up the column of my neck. Although it was not my first kiss from Xenith, he never failed to make my knees weak and fill my stomach with butterflies. His mouth moved to mine and his tongue grazed my lower lip, causing me to gasp. Slipped his tongue inside my mouth and began grinding it against mine. We had never french kissed before, and I was sure it was the best sensation I would ever feel. As our kisses grew more and more passionate, he caressed my thigh underneath my skirt. He pulled away (as always), and stumbled down the alley (as always).

Every kiss, every smile, every touch, every time he opened up to me I felt myself falling deeper for him. At this point, after exactly a month of friendship (and more, at least for me), I was in love with him.

But still, every time he didn't remember what had happened, my heart shattered a little bit more. I couldn't stop the waves of rejection from washing over me. I never was enough for anyone. It was just me, maybe I was destined to never be enough, to sit on the sidelines like i have all of my life. I had to push away those thoughts as quickly as they came. Thoughts like that had no positive effects on my sanity. I was already too fragile.

My self doubts never found their way out of my head. They were always lurking in a corner, whispering things like, 'It's not like he chooses not to love you. It's you. Unlovable, unwanted, pathetic little girl. It's always been your fault, not his fault....'