campbell's guide to the universe

xiv. fresh air

you look over and your eyes lock onto mine; my face burns, but then you pull your gaze away.

it's been three minutes since the rest of your friends left. i happen to know this because i was watching the seconds slip away from the watch on my wrist.

"so." you say, barely above a whisper.

"yeah." i reply, voice heavy like a weight, dragging me down in the still air.

we're sitting in your driveway, ground warm beneath my fingers in the golden sunlight that is disappearing slowly but surely to be replaced by the chill of the silver moon.

"i like your hair." you tell me.

"thanks," i mutter. the events of the previous night— the yelling and tears, the pain in luke's eyes— are still fresh in my mind. "last night was kinda shit."

you already know this because i called you at an absurd hour, but i digress.

"i'm sorry about your parents."

"yeah, me too." because what else do i say? do i say it's okay even when it's not? do i say it's okay even when they make me cry so often i think i'm losing my mind? do i say that i'm counting down the days until my eighteenth birthday? that's still two-and-a-half years' worth of days.

"do you want to do something?" you ask, turning to look at me from where you lay on your back with your face pointed up to the sky.

you always do that, change the subject when things get too heavy. sometimes, i thank you for that and sometimes it irritates me. but today it's an odd mix of the two— you see, i want to forget any of this ever happened, but i want to talk it all out of my system.

"like what?" i ask, forcing myself to stop thinking.

instead, i wind up staring at your curls and your smile and your nails that are freshly painted black. awkwardly, i bring my hand up and run it through my own hair.

"we could go for a walk. there's a park about a block away, or whatever. i just think fresh air is nice."

fresh air. my fresh air had already been attained when i was able to get away from my parents. and sure, it's only one night sleeping over at your house, but if it's as much as i can get then i will take it.

"yeah, let's go for a walk."

➸

after swinging on the swings for a bit, feeling weightless and detached from reality, we end up on the ground.

it seems we do a lot of that; sitting, laying down, watching the sky spin over our heads.

"hey, campbell, are you okay?" you tentatively ask. i can tell that that question has been spinning around in your brain, slamming against your lips and waiting to launch into the three inches that seperate us.

"not really."

"is it about your parents?" for once, you bring up the heavy topic instead of brushing it aside.

"yeah, maybe. but it's also just everything."

you move the smallest bit closer, unnoticeable to anyone else but glaringly obvious to me, and then speak. "do you want to talk about it?"

we stay there like that until midnight, and let everything go.