Feed the Flames

-celine’s pov-

A word is usually a series of letters in a specific order. Through different combinations of letters, different words are made, and each word has a different meaning. Words are then strung together to form sentences. These sentences could be loving or hateful, inquisitive or definitive.

It can be an ‘I love you’.

Or an ‘I hate you’.

The use of words can vary from person to person. Some choose to use words to solve everything, while others would rather avoid words altogether. As someone who cherishes and overthinks every single word that leaves my lips, I can guarantee most people toss around words without even thinking. It’s inane that a short series of letters can do so much damage. That they could make you regret so much in such a short amount of time. They’re just words right? How much damage could words do?

Too much.

I knew that day from the moment I said them…from the moment they left my lips, I would forever regret them. I felt broken on the inside. Like the strings that held me together had been cut and I was falling apart right there with the phone still in my hand. It still racked me with guilt to think about it. I didn’t mean them.

He was…he was in Beijing. It was some foreign student program that had him living with a host family. He was having an amazing time. The phone calls were extremely expensive and the quality wasn’t great but he called me every night. I used to laugh at his horrible attempt at learning Chinese.

One day he called me and told me he wanted to stay. I was angry at that. Why did he want to stay? Why didn’t he want to come home? I missed him. He was my brother and with my parents essentially absent he was all I had.

He said he only wanted to stay for another year or two but I was young. I was stupid. I didn’t mean them.

’Fine then, stay there with your new family. Don’t ever come home. I don’t want you to come home.’

I was so goddamn stupid. So young and absentminded…I didn’t think about my words, I just let them spew forth from my mouth. I didn’t mean them.

Even with all that rage rumbling about inside of me, I caught the words right after they left my lips. I remember the feeling of panic, but when I went to speak no more words came out. I had to listen; I had to wait for a reply. Would he be angry? Would he be upset? Would he tell me he didn’t plan on coming home? I didn’t mean them.

He was at the subway. At first from the silence I thought that perhaps his connection got lost.

I thought the gunshot was just the crackling of a shoddy connection.

I remember calling his name over and over, not knowing what had happened. I thought he had gotten angry with me and hung up. I thought I had driven him away, that he was never going to speak to me again. I fell asleep with the phone in my hand, whispering his name, begging him to come home. Telling him I didn’t mean the words I’d said.

The next day my parents got the call that he had been killed by an unknown person at the subway in Beijing while waiting for a train. They think he may have walked into a drug deal because nothing was taken from his body. That didn’t help anything. At the time I wasn’t sure what hurt worse; the fact that my last words to him were that I never wanted him to come home or the fact that now he was never coming home.

He died with my last hurtful words ringing through his ears. My words.

Words I said without thought, without even acknowledging that I’d begun speaking.

After that night, I stopped speaking. I stopped talking to anyone. If I spoke, it was no more than a word at a time, and even those were months apart.

Recovering from that was like learning the human language all over again.

It was like learning to how function all over again.

Standing in the bathroom staring into the mirror, breathing heavy and opening the flood gates to my past proved that I still wasn’t quite fully functioning. Physical wounds healed fast but mental wounds…they took far too long. I felt like I had a boulder sitting in my stomach, and a pair of hands latched around my lungs.

Every word I spoke now was a possible disaster. I tried to write most things I said because through writing them I have a moment to think about them and if they’re really relevant. I didn’t write notes to anyone really unless I had to. Like if I was sick and had to go to the nurse, I’d write her a note telling her what was wrong. I had never said anything to anyone, honestly.

Now every time I thought about my words, or lack thereof, I thought about Frank. Things felt…easy with him. I’d spoken to him only a couple times, but I’d written to him much more. I didn’t think of my words so critically. Hell, last night I wrote that I cared about him, without even thinking. It just happened. The words went from my head to the page before I could stop myself.

I felt care towards him. I wonder what his feeling of care was. How it felt to him.

Wait, no, no, no. No, care wasn’t a factor in our friendship.

Friendship?

I backed up from the mirror, looking numbly at the sink, my eyes narrowing. Had I become…friends with him? Had I actually gained a friend in this place? Tightening my hands around the strap of my messenger bag, my chest began growing tight. The door opened and I quickly walked towards it, brushing past a person, hearing a short cry from the girl as she bumped against the wall. I had to get out of here.

My legs were stiff as I walked, and my hands clutched the strap of my bag so tight my knuckles were white. I bumped shoulders with students here and there, too distressed to move calmly. Eyes followed me even as I passed them and I could feel their eyes burning into me. When I got to the steps I flew up them, and was in a full sprint by the time I got to the teacher’s hall.

I pushed open the door to the roof and stopped in my tracks. A guy stood in front of Frank, the two apparently talking moments before, but at the moment they both stared at me. Frank looked a bit surprised at me, but the other man just looked at me angrily. Before I could speak, the angry guy stormed towards me, and I bumped back against the door as he stalked past me and down the steps.

“Hey, what are you doing up here?” Frank walked up to me, concern in his voice as I kept my back to the door. My breathing was choppy, my hands shaking, and he put his hands on my arms, looking at me seriously. “Are you okay?” He asked, but I could only keep breathing, staring into his eyes. There hazel orbs that held nothing but concern. “Cell? Are you alright?” The concern grew, and finally I just shook my head, and again, I acted without thinking. Just like writing those words the other day before I could even begin to think about them, I acted without thinking. I fell against him, wrapping my arms around him, pressing my face into his shoulder. “You’re alright.” There was more than enough confusion in his voice, but concern was still evident. I could feel my breathing regulating as he wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes finally, my anxiety slipping away, my panic dissipating. It was nice. To let go of all that, even if only for a moment.

Finally I let go of Frank, pulling away from him, though I kept my hands on his shoulders. I still felt lightheaded. “Sorry.” I whispered, and Frank shook his head.

“No, no, don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” I let my hands fall from his shoulders and my eyes move up to his face finally. “Are you okay now?” I nodded then, and he smiled. “Good.” I smiled slightly at him before brushing past him, walking over towards the usual place I sat directly across from the stairwell. “What happened?” Frank asked from behind me, and I sat down before opening my messenger bag, taking out my little notepad and pen.

‘Bad day.’ I wrote shortly, and held it up to Frank so he could read it.

Raising his eyebrows at the page, Frank sat down next to me. “Just a bad day?” He asked, and I stared at him for a moment, pursing my lips. “What?” I looked down at my notepad for a moment. Was I really about to let this person into my life? This guy I’d known for…god, for not long at all, was I really about to open the doors and let this person into my life? This guy I’d known for…god, for not long at all; was I really about to open the doors for him? I turned the page.

‘I started thinking about my brother. Dredged up memories I shouldn’t have. I lost myself for a moment but I’m okay now.’ I ripped off the note and handed it to Frank, taking a deep breath as I did so.

It only took him a second to read it, and then he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Brother? I thought you didn’t have any siblings?” My pen was already moving over the paper before he finished the sentence.

‘I don’t anymore. You just saw what I turn into if I acknowledge that I did. Ripping off a second note, I handed it over, and watched him as he read it, his face relaxing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Frank returned his eyes to mine again. “Is he why you don’t really talk anymore?”

‘Yes. It’s easier. To force all emotion out and operate as a machine and nothing more…it’s easier than having to worry about your words and their impact on a person.’ Handing over the note, I didn’t even care about classes I was inevitably going to miss today.

After Frank read the note he seemed to battle with something for a moment before deciding to ask. “Force out all emotion… Does that include the ability to care for someone else?” I opened my mouth as if I was about to speak, but quickly closed it. “I found the note you tossed the other night.” My heart caught in my throat, and I didn’t even try to start writing a note. Frank watched me as I completely froze up. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, the tone matching his eyes. “Afraid of caring about someone. You’ve built up these walls so high no one can ever climb them, and yet I’ve smashed through them and you care about me and you don’t know what to do with it.” When he finished speaking, everything was silent for a moment, and I took to my notepad.

‘And what do you think I could do with it exactly?’ I ripped the slip of paper from the pad and handed it over to Frank. He smiled as he read it, and rested the piece on the ledge between us with the others I’d handed him. He leaned forward to me slightly, that smile playing across his face.

“Embrace it.” His words were a whisper, light and airy. For a moment, I couldn’t feel my heart beating in my chest; I couldn’t feel the smile working its way onto my face. I hardly felt my lips move.

“Okay.” At the word, no matter how mundane, Frank grinned. He closed the gap between us, and my mind didn’t once think about stopping him. As I felt his lips against mine, I didn’t even think about the pain one of us could end up in because of simple emotions. As his hands cupped my face, I didn’t care how he was tearing my walls down. Let him tear them down. Let him invite himself into my life. Let him be the only person I ever care for again. Let me fall in love with him. Let him be everything I ever wanted and more; I was okay when I was with him, and that was all I cared about.

Care, love, want… As these things seeped into me I didn’t care what his version of them might be. I knew at least that the feelings were mutual, and in that moment that was enough for me.