Walls
Eight.
He was tough, so his tears stayed at the brim of his eyes; on the edge, but not falling. And it was weird--me seeing him tear up--because my tears had stopped immediately. I did not even think about it. I just can't cry when someone else is crying. It just never worked that way. Whenever there is a crying situation, there is the cry-er and then there is the supporter.
"You can't." My words were almost inaudible as they escaped through my ghost lips.
Dallas looked back to me with big doe eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment. "Why can't I?" His eyes were looking past me out the screen door. I wondered if it hurt him to look at me when he was (about to be) crying. It had always hurt me to look at him when there was water on the edge of my eyelids.
His question caught me off guard and my mind became hazy with trying to figure out why I told him he couldn't. Didn't he understand? I was the broken one. Not him. He was supposed to save me. Not the other way around.
My head started aching with thoughts.
I shook my head and closed my eyes. I was aware of the lack of distance between our rising and falling chests and I was so confused by the sudden change of what I was used to--me crying, him helping--that I didn't know if I wanted to touch him or get away from him.
A chill went through me when I felt his ice cold fingertips on the back of my arm. I looked at him, directly in his foggy eyes.
"I don't usually do this." He said. I just kept watching his lips waiting for him to say more. Because what was I going to say? "Hell, I never do this." His words were becoming harsher and then I felt sort of weird in a way where I wanted to kiss the space above his furrowed eyebrows to maybe make the pain go somewhere else. And I really thought I was going to do it--kiss Dallas Winston's forehead--but he turned from me so quickly, I felt dizzy. "Dammit!" He slammed his fist on the kitchen table and I could only watch and cross my fingers that none of the boys would wake up.
My hand ached to reach out to him but my mind was freezing me in my tracks.
I could see his back muscles tighten underneath the white shirt he was wearing and it pained me. His shoulders twitched and tightened underneath the fabric and I felt myself shrink in the background.
Where are the words I am supposed to say?
"You can't." My words were almost inaudible as they escaped through my ghost lips.
Dallas looked back to me with big doe eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment. "Why can't I?" His eyes were looking past me out the screen door. I wondered if it hurt him to look at me when he was (about to be) crying. It had always hurt me to look at him when there was water on the edge of my eyelids.
His question caught me off guard and my mind became hazy with trying to figure out why I told him he couldn't. Didn't he understand? I was the broken one. Not him. He was supposed to save me. Not the other way around.
My head started aching with thoughts.
I shook my head and closed my eyes. I was aware of the lack of distance between our rising and falling chests and I was so confused by the sudden change of what I was used to--me crying, him helping--that I didn't know if I wanted to touch him or get away from him.
A chill went through me when I felt his ice cold fingertips on the back of my arm. I looked at him, directly in his foggy eyes.
"I don't usually do this." He said. I just kept watching his lips waiting for him to say more. Because what was I going to say? "Hell, I never do this." His words were becoming harsher and then I felt sort of weird in a way where I wanted to kiss the space above his furrowed eyebrows to maybe make the pain go somewhere else. And I really thought I was going to do it--kiss Dallas Winston's forehead--but he turned from me so quickly, I felt dizzy. "Dammit!" He slammed his fist on the kitchen table and I could only watch and cross my fingers that none of the boys would wake up.
My hand ached to reach out to him but my mind was freezing me in my tracks.
I could see his back muscles tighten underneath the white shirt he was wearing and it pained me. His shoulders twitched and tightened underneath the fabric and I felt myself shrink in the background.
Where are the words I am supposed to say?