It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 12

I face forward and think about it for a moment. Almost everything we bicker about is pointless. And that's way more often than sometimes. It's all the time.

I take a quick glance at his back as he sits upright and taps the metal railing by his side. Though, I look away just as quickly.

"But you have to understand that I can't just be nice to you." he says.

I almost laugh to myself. "Why's that?" I ask.

"Because that's just how it works." he mumbles. "That's how we work, am I wrong?"

I start to feel my brows furrow. He was being pretty wise for his low level of sobriety.

"I mean, when have I ever been nice to you?" he asks.

"Not for a long time." I tell him.

"See? I knew I was right." he boasts himself.

I almost laughed before rolling my eyes. Drunk but still managing to be cocky. Just great.

We stay quiet for a few moments. I lean off my palms and wipe my hands on my legs, sitting up. I tighten the strap on my heel before he says something that catches me off guard.

"Why don't you look at me?" His tone was a little more clear than before as he poked my cheek.

"What?" I ask confused, moving my face away from his finger.

"You haven't looked at me since we started talking," he mentions.

I tighten my lips into a thin line. He was right. I haven't taken a glance at him since I looked at his backside a few moments ago. I've been staring at the sky for the most part.

"And I like to make eye contact with the people I'm talking to." He continues to make himself clear, though his words are still partially spaced out.

I sigh and turn my head to him, catching the glow of his eyes as I accepted his indirect request to look at him.

They soon fade to the dull gray color they usually are and I didn't know what to think of it.

I didn't know what I was doing, but I looked at him—I mean, really looked at him. And we stayed deafeningly silent.

Somehow I was able to create a few thoughts as this was happening. What we were doing could be considered straightforward, two people locking eyes, yet the too close proximity was making it look otherwise.

But I've come to the conclusion, that in this moment, seeing someone and looking at them are two completely different things.

Seeing someone is unattentive, it's vague and very broad; you see a lot of things. Looking at someone is direct, it's intended, and it captures your full attention.

I can see him fully, yet I'm looking at him. Same for him. He can see me, but he's looking at me.

Straight in the eyes.

The art of it was simple actually, but he seemed to undermine his meaning of keeping eye contact. And I guess I haven't taken note of it until now, but he's heavy on the eye contact.

But not in a creepy way. His eyes are relaxed, in such a manner that he almost looks half asleep.

Although, even I had to admit to myself, it was fucking intense.

I didn't know how much longer I could hold this, but it turns out not for long.

When I feel his shoulder touch mine I snap back to reality. We had gotten closer.