Illicit Affairs

eleven. ew, feelings

When I walk into my dorm later that day, I'm bombarded by Aria who's standing right next to the doorway. Our faces are mere inches away from each other, and I can't help but allow my eyes to glance down at her signature red lips. She instantly steps back, and my eyes trail over her plain gray top and black jeans, paired with black Converse shoes. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and I realize that she's taken the liberty of getting ready today.

I take this as a good sign, and when she starts talking, I recieve the notice that she's sorry for what happened.

"You can call me an idiot. I am one, I get it," she starts. "I don't even know why I was angry, but that doesn't make it any better. I acted like a child when I gave you the silent treatment. I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry for acting that way and being a horrible person. You didn't deserve that treatment."

"Ok. . . " I say, trailing off as I wait for her to say something more.

She uncomfortably shoves her hands in her pockets, and sighs, saying, "you don't have to forgive me. I probably wouldn't forgive me. I'm your friend, and no friend should do that. At all. If you do forgive me, I promise that I won't act that way again. I'll try. You're my only friend here, and I don't want to ruin anything."

I go over my options, to forgive her or not, and my mind quickly settles. All day I've been waiting for something to happen, and it finally has. I want Aria to be sorry, and I didn't want to be the one to confront her first. She's growing, and I can understand that.

I don't like what she did, but I can move on from it. Even if I don't completely understand why it had to happen in the first place.

"I accept your apology, " I tell her.

"That's it?" She asks. "You're not going to yell at me? Shouldn't I be yelled at?"

"Don't be so dramatic," I say to her. "I forgive you. I just hope it doesn't happen again."

She's more relaxed as she tells me, "thank you."

I realize that the door behind me is still open, so I close it for some obvious privacy. I decide to sit down on my spinning desk chair, and she does the same. We both meet in the middle of the room, ready to talk about whatever's next.

"Are you feeling better today?" I ask her.

She ignores me, choosing to spin around on her chair as she squeals like a child at the dizziness.

"Aria. You told me you wouldn't ignore me anymore, " I tell her.

She immediately stops, then saying, "right, sorry. I think I'm feeling better today."

"You're taking your medication, right?"

"I always have and they work. That's what they're supposed to do. I'm going to take everything one step at a time."

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"You're acting like you're my therapist," she says as she rolls her eyes at me.

I take the hint, and I decide to back off. I don't want her to mistake my support as overbearing annoyance.

"There is something I want to say though. It bothers me how it always feels like I have some kind of resting darkness inside of me. It never leaves, but it doesn't always make an appearance either. Sometimes I smile, or I laugh. I start to get used to what I think must surely be happiness. Except, it's always there. It acts like an underlying disease that slowly present its own symptoms. Then boom. It attacks, and leaves me trying to escape my way out of the mess."