Chalk & Wood

He didn't run at first. He wasn't that kind of person who would run in the middle of a crowd, catching everyone's attention and bringing the spotlight on himself. He already had the spotlight. He didn't need anything else. His damp clothes were sticking to his skin; his fingers, hair, and chin dripping wet with rain. He was standing in the middle of the pavement, people rushing by, colorful umbrellas over their heads, feet speeding to the closest building. The air was growing colder, the rain slapping against his body, pushing him down. He could only pray that she wasn't in the middle of it just like he was, but he knew better. He started to run.

She was frozen still, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, her face hidden in between them. She was angry. Tears kept sliding down her cheeks, mixing in with the rain that was blowing against her small figure. Her lips were cracked and cherry red, her bottom lip trembling on and on as her fingers curled around the fabric of her dark green cargos. She thought that hiding in the little castle in a neighborhood's playground would keep her away from the rain. She thought that it could at least keep her slightly dry while she tried to sort things out. That was her problem. She thought.

He cussed. He stood underneath the top of a bus stop, shaking his pockets, trying to find his phone which took him minutes to remember he had forgotten. He wanted to sprint to where she was, shake her and tell her it was stupid of her to have run and not come to him first. Not shared what she felt with him first. Not cried with him first. He was never first and he was tired of it.

She didn't know what to do with herself anymore. The rain poured harder, thunder striking against a cloud, mixing in with the lightning, creating a short symphony with a loud beat. Her ears popped, her back pressing against the drenched wood of the castle as she loosened her grasp around her pants, letting her arms droop down next to her, her palms facing upwards. She extended her legs as well, letting the cold jab against her thin white blouse, exposing the lacy fabric of her bra. She couldn't care less.

He started walking back to his dorm room, his fists stuffed into his pockets. He couldn't find her. It had been almost an hour of looking and he still couldn't find her. The rain had lightened up just enough to see more clearly, his eyes scanning the streets for a familiar face. A familiar haircut. A familiar smile. He didn't have to think far back to remember that smile. It was just last week that they went to the amusement park with the rest of the group. Her laughter echoed through every ride they took, her smile beaming as she screamed alongside them, their voices harmonizing with every swing. Even when he reached the entrance to his building he couldn't help but keep walking straight, his feet trying to lead him to that laughter once again.

She scooted herself forward a couple of times, giving her upper body enough space to lie down, each arm gently falling on its side. Her eyes peered to the side, a small piece of chalk lying in the corner, which she was quick to ignore. Instead she stared upwards, her mind becoming foggy as she watched a single of rain drip down from the castle's roof and spill over her stomach, sending a shiver down her back. She felt silly. She was twenty for God's loving sake and yet she couldn't bring herself to crawl down the small, wooden ladder, walk home in the rain, drag her pathetic corpse into her bed, cry like a grown-up woman would, and move on. Every step including a different kind of alcoholic beverage of course. Instead she opted to hide. She opted to lie in the cold, and wait for a sign that said it was okay to come down.

He walked right into an old neighborhood, worn down apartments hovering over his head as he stepped forth. The smell of wet pavement hovered under his nose as he glanced around, his eyes peering at the beautifully kept gardens junked with different colored roses, lilies, and such, each looking somewhat brighter than the next. He finally arrived at a childless playground, its floor covered with small, cream and brown-colored pebbles, the games slightly rusted at its joints. He stepped closer towards the swings, his right hand extending automatically and grasping onto the wet chain. He turned around, mild hesitation beating in his heart as he sat, the wet seat producing goosebumps all over his body. He was already drenched, pissed, and cold. He couldn't have given less of a shit as soon as his feet pushed him off into the air.

Her ears rang at the sound of metal brushing against metal, her head bobbing to the left side. It was probably just a kid stupid enough to play in the rain. She could almost hear their mother's scream to get back inside, to wash his hands and face, and to dry them up so they could get on with dinner. Dinner. Her stomach mildly groaned at the thought. She straightened herself out, her fingers reaching up and rubbing her smudged eyeliner from the bottom of her eyelashes, quickly wiping her thumbs against the wood. Her lips couldn't help but curl upwards into a small grin. There was no one to impress.

He had been swinging for a couple minutes now, the point of his shoe slightly brushing against the pebbles with each sway. He wasn't sure when to stop; he wasn't even sure why he hadn't stopped yet, but as he turned his head to the right, his eyes scanning right over the wooden castle that stood next to the swings, he knew. He didn't have to stop. Instead, he let his body go as he jumped forward, landing on two feet and one hand.

She couldn't help but bob her head to the entrance of the castle, curiosity winning her over as she slightly pulled herself up, crawling closer towards the rattling sound of pebbles shifting. It was probably the kid running home to his mother, an empty stomach calling out for food. Or was it? As soon as she heard the thump of someone climbing up the ladder, she quickly creeped away, hiding her frame inside the entrance of the tubed, blue slide. She quickly wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her face in between before any little girl or boy got haunted by her crappy looks. Fucking children couldn't keep away from the fucking playground for one fucking rainy day. She cursed the moment she thought hiding in a playground would be much better than cuddling in her bed.

He sat down, pressing his back against the wall, letting his legs extend over the wet wood as his eyes scanned her over, his mouth trying to think of something to say as he licked his lips over and over again. Knowing her, she probably hadn't figured out it was him yet. Knowing her, she probably thought he was a child attempting to play in the middle of the rain. But it didn't take long for her head to shift slightly, a hazel eye peeking out of the corner of her arm, studying him up and down as he raised up his hand, giving her a small wave.

She couldn't hide her face fast enough, her forearms automatically covering her messy hair while her fingers tangled into the mesh. She couldn't understand why he was there. Why he would come look for her. If there was a person who didn't deserve to see her like this it was him. Him and his beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. Him and his curved, slightly chapped, pink lips. Him and his coarse hands ready to embrace her as if she was his true sister. As if she was his true lover. Him and his altruistic words that could bring her to her shaky knees in regret. Even when he wasn't the one who broke her heart. Even when he wasn't the one who hurt her the most. Even so, she couldn't help but want to camouflage this sadness, this utter loneliness that wasn't his to heal. That wasn't his.

He pushed himself upwards, crawling on his knees towards her before she could completely slide down the tube, her arms quickly wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. She smelled like a mixture of rain, longing, and tears. Even as he pressed his nose against her drenched back he could feel her small hands shaping into fists, hovering above the large, doll eyes he loved the most. What was she so shy about? There was nothing for her to hide. He had watched her stroll around his shitty dorm wearing a single, white, baggy t-shirt, a large grin forming as she embraced that guy's back, her rosy left cheek pressing against his skin. He had watched her exit the restroom without a single drop of make-up, wearing just a blue towel with her long hair pushed up in a wet bun, as he studied the many scars she wore on her wrists, the many scars she wore on her upper thighs, and the many scars she wore in her heart. He had watched her laugh until she let out a cute snort, he had watched her frown when she ate something all too bitter for her taste buds, he had watched her all while she held onto that guy's hand. There was nothing to hide.

Her eyes flew open, but she didn't turn her head as he wrapped his own hands around her fists, bringing them downward. By then he had shifted even closer, her body cuddled right in between his, his forehead pressing against her back. He didn't have to say a word for her to know he didn't mind it if she cried. He had never minded. He had never minded listening to her rants, laughing on the jokes no one else could understand. He had never minded cooking with her before, trying out the odd flavors she produced that no one else dared to taste. He would even give her that infectious grin after he swallowed, a reminder that no matter how shitty of a cook she was, he would never let her down. Not once.

He didn't have to get any closer to hear the muffled hiccup she tried to keep inside, her fists slowly uncoiling as he threaded his long fingers with hers, letting his head tip over her shoulder, his chin slightly touching strands of wet hair. A loud boom struck against the sky as they listened to the rain smash down harder against their small wooden castle, slight drops entering through the cracks and spilling over their heads.

She was crying now, tears streaking down her cheeks as they dripped over the palm of his hand, slightly rolling down and coloring another dark stain on her pants. She felt the need to run, the need to hide from the man who didn't seem to mind. She wanted to escape his grasp, she wanted to run into the pouring rain and cry. Because the man who didn't seem to mind could not realize that she knew it was a lie. She had watched him watch her stroll around in that fucking t-shirt as she held onto that guy. She had watched him watch her as she tied her hair in a loose bun, wearing not a single drop of make-up, but a towel, as she carefully walked into that guy's room to change. She had watched. But what she didn't want to do was to kill. She didn't want to kill that happiness that melted in her heart each time she watched him laugh. She didn't want to kill that emotion she felt each time he tried one of her shitty meals and grinned like he had just had his first bite from his five-star feast.

He crawled over and sat in front of her as soon as he heard her silently murmuring the words, 'I'm sorry,' her hands flying to cover her reddened cheeks and swollen eyes, her bottom lip quivering with every drop of rain. He pressed his forehead against the top of her head, tenderly caressing her warm skin with the back of his fingers. Did it make him a bad person that he felt happy? That he felt completely and totally blessed to be sitting there, caressing her skin and feeling her warmth? He couldn't help, but be selfish when it came to her. He couldn't help, but beat the shit out that guy who made her cry just like the rain poured from the sky. He couldn't help but chase after her like a guy straight out of a chick flick, in the hopes of her realizing she loved him all along. But as he watched her bring her hands down from her face, his eyes locking onto her damaged, bruised, and bloody wrists he couldn't help it. He was a selfish man.

She didn't embrace him back at first, her eyes lying limp on each side of her body, the slow of blood staining their little, wooden castle. Instead, she closed her eyes. She closed them tightly, and listened closely to the beating of his heart. To the beating of the heart she stole. To the beating of the heart she'd always wanted. To the beating of the heart she shouldn't have taken in the first place. Not when she couldn't give hers back. Not when another man kept carrying it in his pocket without a care in the world. Instead she listened closely. She listened closely until his voice flooded her missing heart.

He started humming that song, that one song they both knew very well. That song that she had first sang the day they had arrived. So simple. So easy. They were all so enchanted by her. By her slight accent, by her tone of voice, by her small figure. At first he wondered if anyone else saw her etched in flaws besides him. Had they noticed the number of shrink marks on her thighs and hips due to rapid loss weight when they went swimming in the ocean? Had they even glanced at her right inner arm and noticed the purple puncture scars? Had he been the only one who had slammed her against the wall and told her it wasn't worth it without her? Had he? And even then when he started to cry against her shoulders he started to worry that he was the only one.

She pushed him away, just enough to raise up her hands and brush them against his cheeks, carefully wiping away the salt and water. His eyes were closed, his arms lying loosely around her waist as she inspected his every angle, from his jawline to the blonde bangs matting against his forehead. He hadn't slept in what seemed all too long, deep-set bags bruising under his thick eyelashes, pale lips attempting to regain their pinkish color. She stopped herself before she leaned in too far and pressed hers against his, instead holding her close position, breathing him in.

He took the matter into his own hands, cupping her face and bringing their lips together as she took only a couple of seconds to kiss back. He was hungry, his teeth lightly nibbling on her bottom lip as he let himself fall back onto the floor, her body quickly positioning itself on top of his, never once letting them break apart. How could he fall in love with such an imperfect girl? How could he fall in love with that guy's girl who he who had just recently torn apart? As their legs interlaced together and as her mouth slightly opened to let him in, he knew.

She knew. How couldn't she fall in love with him? As he flipped on top of her, trailing butterfly kisses down her neck, and as his right hand hovered over the bottom buttons of her blouse, her mind raced back, back to when she moved in. He was the one who stayed with her, paint smeared all over his pants, wife beater, and skin, while he helped her decorate her and that guy's blindingly white walls He was the one who stood in front of her, his hands holding onto the back of his shirt, as he protected her against that guy's angry screams. He was the only one who stood there after that guy had slammed the door shut, and let her cry against his shoulder without a single word or movement. He was it.

He paused for a moment, pushing himself upwards, his nose against hers, their eyes completely on each other. His lips pulled apart, but no words came out, instead they were muffled by hers, her thin arms wrapping around his neck. He couldn't help the thoughts bubbling in his head, drowning out the blood from his heart and emptying his gut. He didn't want to be the rebound. He didn't want to be kissed, touched, or loved out of pity and heartbreak. But he didn't want to be the idiot who stopped either. Who stopped unbuttoning her damp blouse, who stopped unzipping her cargo pants, who stopped caressing her skin with his lips. So the instant the rain banged against the wood, harder than every before, he stopped hesitating.

She didn't know when was it that the rained stopped pouring down, a gentle and light drizzle dripping through the cracks. She could hardly remember the beginning of it. When they started kissing, when clothes started to peel off, when moans began to be the only thing they could exhale. The end wasn't as much of a blur. She surely remembered the big bang ending, their skins dampened with sweat, their hands locked together as he lied next to her, his stomach and chest pressed against the floor, his eyes closed. She didn't sleep, instead she watched over him, like he had always watched over her, slipping on her bra and blouse, buttoning up her pants, and draping his shirt over his bare back. She pressed her back against the wall, brushing her fingers through his locks. She picked up the chalk, wrapping it around her right hand and stood up, being careful not to shake the castle with her movements. It wouldn't be long before he woke up alone, his head bobbing around searching for her. But she would be gone.

His eyes flew open, his body immediately flipping on its side, his head twisting and turning, searching for the girl who he could've sworn he had just been with. Instead he found every inch of the castle scribbled on, white chalk scrapped over the brown surface. His smile grew as he read little things like, 'let's go watch a movie sometime soon', 'promise me you'll help me cook', and 'don't forget tonight is your turn to wash the dishes'. But the one thing that he couldn't help but reach out and touch, were the words written on the roof. 'Hurry up home. Don't let the rain catch you off-guard.' As he mouthed the three words he had always wanted to say, he turned his head to the entrance of the small, wooden castle, the words scribbled on top, letting him realize he was more than a rebound.

She walked a little faster, letting the light drizzle pour over her like a summer day as she whispered the words she knew he would smile at once he turned upwards and looked. The words he didn't have to say, for her to understand.

'I love you too.'