A Little Bit... A Little More. (Huh?)

Tharn: Chapter 5

'Pick up...pick up...pick up...come on,'I think as I dial Tar's number.

Of course the call goes unanswered.

Type looks like a guilty mouse and I can't seem to think clearly. 

"I'll just call him later," I say as I place my phone back on my bed and I rub my forehead.

The sudden shrill ringing of my phone startles me and I pick it up in an instant.

"Hello? Tar?" I say into the receiver.

Silence.

"Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me?" I repeat.

"I crashed my scooty," comes the reply.

Crashed his scooty? What even?

"What do you mean? Where are you?" I ask him with a little bit of panic lacing my voice.

"Dunno…" he squeaks through the other line.

"Are you hurt?" I ask trying to not get irritated by his response.

"No," he responds.

Okay, he's not hurt, he's just being baby boy Tar. 

"Alright. Come back. Just come back and we'll talk about it. Just, please come back," I plead with him.

"Mmm.." he says before hanging up.

My mind is a mess thinking about what he could have hit and how far he could have gotten. The knock on the door jolts me out of my thoughts and I sprint to throw the door open. He's standing in front of me with a spoilt pout on his face and refuses to meet eyes with me. I grab him by the shoulders and turn him this why and that to check for any injuries, he seems to have none. I finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"So, tell me, what was all that about?" I ask him as I lead him into the room.

He refuses to talk as he stands before my bed. 

"Tar, say something," I try again.

He continues standing there while a storm rages on inside me.

I sigh thinking he wouldn't say anything.

"I just wanted you to watch me sketch", he says.

My mind is just…..blown. I'm at a loss for words. I open my mouth to say something but it just remains open because I cannot seem to think of anything to say. So I'm just standing there slack jawed.

"I came all the way here to hang out with you and you just decided to go to sleep? That wasn't what you said to me when you asked me to visit", he says hardening his voice now.

"I just wanted to rest my eyes until you finished with your sketch, I was a little tired", I say pleadingly.

"And your roommate? Did you hear the way he spoke to me? You made me look so bad in front of him", he went on like as if I hadn't even spoken.

"I...I…" 

"The way you behaved let him think he could speak to me like that. Why do you have to make me look like the bad guy? If you wanted to sleep why didn't you just tell me? Huh?" He says. 

'I DID!!' I shout in my mind but for some reason the words don't come out.

He sits down at the foot of my bed and continues as he looks at me with sadness.

He says I made him feel terrible. I made him feel like he didn't matter. Type is terrible for speaking to him in that tone. He's hurt, I hurt him. He crashed his scooty because of me. Why did I have to behave like that? If I wanted to sleep, I should have just said so without making a scene and on and on he goes.

I fall to my knees before him as I listen to him tell me how much I have hurt and embarrassed him.

My mind is standing still but is also running a mile a minute with five hundred thoughts that I can't seem to finish. I don't even know what I'm feeling at this point. I look up at him and he's looking at me like I hurt him so much. I feel a tear escape the corner of my eye as I look up at him in utter despair.

He ignores my pain as he scrunches up his face and continues to elaborate on his. I'm feeling so much and nothing at the same time. I'm a cold mess.

I don't know what to do nor do I know how to react anymore, so I smile through my sorrow. My throat tight, my eyes shining.

"What do you want me to do?" I whisper, finally finding my voice.

He looks down at me and just stares at my defeated form for a good while.

"Come here, I need you", he says as he extends his arms.

My heart twists at those words. My palms and the soles of my feet are in absolute agony. They feel like pins and needles are battling my skin to be released from their prison; that is, my body. My chest feels constricted to a point where the pain is just visceral. 

I look at his face and what I see makes me want to sob out loud and kick and scream and cry.

WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT ABOUT MY FEELINGS? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE ABOUT YOU? WHY ARE YOU THE VICTIM ALL THE FUCKING TIME? WHY DO I EVEN LOVE YOU?

The thoughts run amok in my mind.

But I do, so I go to him.

I take his hand and let him pull me into a hug.

I don't have the strength in me to hug him back. He tightens his hold on me as a sign for me to reciprocate the gesture. And so I do.

I drag my arms over his body and lightly rub his back as I blankly stare at the bag of snacks on our shared chest of drawers. The tear track still wet on my face but ignored by the love of my life like so many other things.

He pets my back as he speaks," You know, I came all the way here to spend time with you. I just wanted you to watch me sketch because you seem to love it so much. I'm sorry I didn't let you sleep. You can sleep if you like."

"No, you're right. I did invite you over and shouldn't have acted like such a shitty host. You did come all the way here and I went to sleep instead, I'm sorry," I say to him.

There is a part of me screaming 'moron' at the top of his lungs and another knows I'm trapped by my own emotions.

But I love him. Maybe if I love him hard enough he'll see my efforts and love me back the way I love him. I'm sure he loves me and I'm sure the day will come when he sees my worth. I can't leave him, I love him. I belong in his arms. Where would I go if not into these arms? Whom would I hold if not for my love?

I can't lose him. I need him. We'll figure it out. I'm sure if I talk to him on a day not as emotionally charged as today he'll understand. He loves me, of course he will. He told me he has never loved anyone like he loves me. That is a lot and wouldn't you change maybe just a little bit for someone you claim to love so?

'But what if he doesn't?' I hear my mind whisper at the same time as what Tar said registers in my mind.

"Don't do that again. Okay?" He'd said.

And before I know it my mouth is moving, "Yes, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have behaved like that. I didn't mean to hurt you."

I'm in a world of pain.

Author's note:

K.BAI.I'M.OUT.THERAPPPYYYYYYY.