Baby, I'm a Lost Cause.

xxxxxx

I woke up the next morning, somehow, with a strange sense of positivity. My scars from last night felt like they were on fire. I glared at them, the lined embers that I allowed myself to have, and exhaled. I will get better, I thought.
I got up and decided to go right on a walk, being that it was Friday. Quite frankly I didn't give a fuck about what day it was, I just wanted to go to that place of indecision.
“Where are you going, Rose?” Papa said wearily, watching me walk to the door.
“No where you'd care,” I muttered, slamming it behind me. He sounded groggy and upset, possibly from last night and his non- interaction during the scream session Deborah gave me. But I still held a bit of a grudge from that. So ignoring his sadness was the best choice here.
Pedaling faster as the minutes passed, the boy crossed my mind again. I never knew what happened to the gun he held. And, what if he got another one? Or, found another way? I felt his pain; I knew the pain he must have been feeling to make such a decision, but I could never imagine actually accomplishing it. Predominantly, I was scared for him.
I leaned my bike against the plaster wall and walked inside. The sun didn't come into the barn yet; it was early, dark. It was silent, still.
I perched under the broken window and watched the sun move across the sky, delicately decorating each individual piece of grass with such stunning grace. I admired nature with such capacity. If it really was so beautiful, maybe there was a God out there? I had such good intentions but I would never know, and I would consistently question it.
Much time passed, and I began to grow impatient. True, I was waiting for an event that was unplanned. He had not been acquainted with the idea that we were going to meet again. In fact, the thought came out of thin air. And so, I fell to grief. I felt dumb. Stupid. Like a fool. What idiot could do such a thing?
'You're not a fool, you love him.'
What? I stood up and looked around. Astonishingly, no figure stood near me. I nervously itched my shoulder. “W-whose there?” I stuttered.
'It's me, Rose. It's your friend. Did you forget about me?'
My heart began to race and I felt my cheeks heat up. “Where are you? Stop it, I'll hurt you if you come any closer.” Truth was, I was unaware of where the figure was and I was utterly clueless of who was speaking. If they appeared and murdered me, I wouldn't even have a clue because of how close they were with how unfamiliar I was.
'It's me. It's your friend, Sylvester.'
I felt my blood pulsating through my body. I looked around, trying to find him, see him, but no living Sylvester remained except for the one that was now in my head. I felt lightheaded. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe I'd wake up and there would be no boy and there would be no shitty family and there would be just me, and just Sylvester, and we'd be together in paradise.
Don't freak out, Rose. It said with reassurance. I'm only tryna' help you.'
I analyzed the voice. How spot on it was, with every ounce of reassurance he would give me. I didn't know how to answer. I fell to the ground with my head spinning, and I felt my vision blur away.
'I think you like him, right, Rose? He continued. You like him, right. . .The way you like me. . .Same way, right, Rose. . .'

My eye fluttered open to the sun setting. Was I listening to Slyvester's voice speak to me earlier? Or was it a dream? I was unsure. All I knew was I was now on the barn floor listening to the birds chirping and the wooden planks creaking.
I stood up and brushed myself off. I realized it was late and papa was going to be angry, but I still held my grudge with demented pride and he had an excuse to let me off the hook for not defending me.
I walked outside (since the door was ripped off last time I was here) and unhitched my bike, when I heard a familiar voice speak, this time, thankfully, not in my head.
“So you woke up, huh?”
I looked up to see none other then the emerald-eyed boy with a crooked smile on his face.
“It's nice seeing you smile,” I said thoughtlessly.
He let out a laugh. “You didn't exactly catch me at the right time. Wasn't the first time I tried to do that. . .And failed.” I chuckled and he looked at the ground. “That's a little morbid, but you know.”
I looked toward the barn again and turned back to him. “You saw me sleeping?”
“I came here earlier for. . .Reasons. Not dangerous ones or anything. But I saw you sleeping and I didn't want to wake you so I left and came back now. Truth was I just wanted to thank you.” He shrugged and then smirked. I thought about how he thought I was sleeping, rather than fainted, but I didn't mention it.
“For what?”
“You saved me. I was there, you know? I was my breaking point. I was on the brink. But then you helped me. Maybe not intentionally, but you did. I'm flaky like that.”
I nodded. It was hard to imagine that someone like myself had stopped someone from ending their life. It hurt to think if I wasn't in the barn yesterday the guy in front of me wouldn't be in front of me at all.
“You know, I never got your name.” I said, changing topics.
“Seth. And yours?”
“Rosemary. Rosemary Torres.”
We stayed silent. I came off my bike and took small steps until I sat down with him under a big tree. We sat there together for as long as I can remember until the similar voice in my head whispered ever-so-quietly, 'kiss him.'
And I did.
Our lips locked and we fell into the grass. Our lips intertwined as we kissed passionately. My tongue switched places slowly while our mouths stayed locked. When you save someone's life, I guess you gain an automatic passion for that person.
I was french kissing a complete stranger, and I was one hundred percent content with it.