'F' Is for Forbidden

Even though I entered the house as I normally would, no fuss or anything, and closed my bedroom door behind me as I walked in, Dellos still managed to call out for me in concern.

Seriously, did he have a radar that could distinguish emotions from afar?

He knocked on the door, one after the other, not even waiting for a response.

Popping his head through the gap, I was greeted with the same smile I was so familiar with. I noticed his hair was matted together, as if he'd just been working out.

I produced him a weak smile, one even I was having trouble believing.

"Hey, I'm okay. I'll join you for dinner soon, tell Sabine I just need a few minutes." My tone was curt; final.

Yet, he didn't seem to get the hint, as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Sitting on the edge of my bed, he didn't look at me. Which was good, because I was pretty sure I was a second away from breaking down.

I hugged my knees closer to my chest, it was easier to breathe this way. Or, at least, it helped a little.

Another thing I liked about my brother: he knew when not to press.

Dellos was a patient human. It was like living with Ghandi; nothing cracked this man's shell, except if he witnessed anyone harassing me. In that case, let's just say if he ever found out about my classmates' behavior today, they wouldn't have any tongues to rabble with tomorrow.

He was the one sure thing I had in this world. If anyone saw me for me: it was him.

I licked my lips, tasting the dried sweat on my upper rim.

"Dominic broke up with me." I caught his eyes growing wide, prepared to smother me with sympathies, so I butted back in. "I get why he did it. I'm just... I somehow can't process it."

"Jensen..." I heard my brother say my name the way he had a million times before. He knew me better than anyone, sometimes even more so than myself.

By the time I thought of that, I grew hot and trembling. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around me and held my head to his shoulder, as the unfamiliar pain of misery stained his shirt. My whole being shook, my soul quivered when I remembered the events of today.

Dellos didn't do anything but hold me. His head sometimes nuzzled into my mess of hair, but for the most part, he was still. As still as this life, and any other after it.

Fingering my tresses as I calmed down, it was the steady beat of his heart that caused the sobbing to decrease.

He knew I didn't want to talk about it and, for that, I was grateful. He was the kindest man I'd ever known, but I was selfish. How could he stand to be around me?

"I feel... I feel like I'm dying." I could barely breathe, as I clutched onto his shirt and my head fell, until it hit his lap. When I lay there, he smoothed my hair down, fingers lightly grazing my cheek.

"It hurts so much."

"I know. I'm here, I know."

And so, I stayed in the company of the only man who'd never hurt me, making my misery his own.
***

By the time nighttime fell, my wall was stripped bare of all photographs containing Dominic and I together. I had no right to them anymore, despite what he said.

He wasn't ever going to come back to me. I'd had my chance and I blew it. Dominic may be patient, but he wasn't a fool.

Crumbling the picture in my hand, I resisted from doing any detrimental damage to it. He and I were still friends, he made a point to drive that home for me.

Unclenching my fist, I looked at the photograph longingly. It was an old one, from roundabout the first couple of months we'd begun dating. I used to describe myself as hipster and dressed the part, whereas Dominic always looked so... well, like he always did. With both of us smiling shyly yet beautifully at the camera lens, it captured our high perfectly. Buzzing bright and certain of the future ahead, I never planned that one day it would be destroyed.

The girl in the photo, who rested her chin on the shoulder of a boy, looked so carefree, so unconcerned about the world. She'd been so wonderful – when did I become so odious?

When did all that positivity, all that love, die?

I'm not who I used to be, that much was clear. But the question was:

Would I ever find my way back to her again?

Becoming disgruntled with the ever growing facts, I crumbled the paper back up again. It made a fist, so much that my fingers nearly went through it.

That's when I decided to breathe. Things could be much messier than they were. Instead of basically calling me the best thing that ever happened to him, Dominic could've simply said he hated me and didn't want to see me again.

Surely, that would've been easier. Hating someone was easier than loving them when you shouldn't.

I didn't care what he said; I wasn't perfect. Not for a mile.

But I was perfect for him.

We weren't over. I'd have to prove to him somehow that I wasn't hopeless in this. I'd take initiative of the situation and I'd show him just how much his opinion, trust and care meant to me.

Flattening out the photograph, I glanced at it briefly before I stuffed it at the back of my desk drawer. Keeping one wouldn't hurt.

While I may have tossed the rest into my garbage can, it didn't mean much. I hadn't given in.

Dominic and I were going to be together again. Soon.