The Inseparable Twins

Ian: Why Worry About Me?

"Okay." I answered Yves softly. I didn't really know what else to say to him. He lifted his head from my shoulder and kept looking at me with those bright eyes: those bright eyes that could see right through me. It kind of made me feel uncomfortable and I kept fidgeting with my fingers. He always knew what to say and it felt like he could read my every thought. Maybe that myth of twins being telepathic is true. I had to chuckle at the thought, but anything is possible, right? I saw Yves's eyes widen in surprise from my chuckle, seeing how it's not very often that I do. He smiled from ear to ear. "I was just thinking of something is all." I explained while he still looked at me with that big grin. He nudged me playfully with his elbow, "So what was it? It's not everyday you do something like that." He seemed so full of life, and was so eager to see me happy.

"I...I was just thinking that anything was possible...like paranormal stuff such as telepathy." I lowered my voice as I spoke, feeling embarrassed that I even said it out loud. Yves looked away from me for a second as more students got on the bus then back to me, "You know, I've always thought the same thing. Oh! And how other things like ghosts are probably real too!" You could hear the excitement in his lowered voice; Yves always enjoyed talking about this kind of stuff. When he first became interested in it, we were in fifth grade. There was a program on TV one night that our parents allowed us to stay up and watch. I do admit that I thought it was interesting. It was about all the different kinds of supernatural things in the world, some like aliens, ghosts, demons, vampires and even people who use telepathy or telekinesis. Yves just adored it and couldn't get enough of it. And to add, he loved anything fantasy related like dragons and fairies.

He's like a little kid in a candy shop...then again; he still acts like that in a candy shop too. I know we're twins, but we're really so different. It makes me wonder if I would be more like him if I wasn't like this? I'm just dragging him down being this way. I just can't stand being here...

I could feel tears welling up and spilling over and I was to weak to stop them. Gentle fingers touched my cheeks and wiped away my tears. "I...I don't know what to do with myself, Yves." I sobbed and looked up at him, I saw the familiar warm and kind face that usually comforts me. "You know that I"m always right here for you, it's okay to let it out." He braced my shoulder and shielded my bright red face from possible onlookers on the bus. He let me cry it out -as quiet as I was- I still felt horrible and very embarrassed. 

We were approaching the school quickly, and in that short time I knew that I had to pull myself together at least somewhat. I didn't want to look as if I had just been crying. I softly shrugged off Yves's arm and quickly took out my water bottle from my bag. The cold water should help a little bit. I opened it up, poured a little water into my hand and dabbed it over my face. It felt refreshing and any extra I just rubbed into my skin. Yves was silent the rest of the way to school, I'm guessing for my sake to let me relax a little. I never really know what to do in these kinds of situations.

I sluggishly put my water bottle back in my bag when I heard Yves's voice, "You know, I keep telling you that you can always rely on me. I'm not going anywhere." He's always telling me this, even when we were kids. But it's so much easier said than done! I know he doesn't really understand what I'm going through, but he's always trying his best to do so regardless. 

I was the one who was supposed to protect him, he was always weaker than me; he was a perfect target. But now it seems like he's the one doing all of the work and protecting me instead. I can't even defend myself now if something happens at school, granted that's a rare occurrence at this point.

Our bus slowly pulls up to the rear entrance and Yves and I wait for everyone else to get off first. People push past each other without a care in the world. Bumping and shoving each other with arms, hands or even bags just to get off the bus. Some of the students would be yelling of swearing at one another to hurry off the bus or to get out of their way. It's chaos as usual. For a private school, one would think they would be a little bit more well-mannered. Yves kept a close eye on me as the other students left. Once the bus was cleared he stood up suddenly with his bag in his left hand and offered me his right. I took it cautiously and his hand closed around mine gingerly as he helped me out from the seat and made our way off the bus. Before the bus doors closed, Yves called out to the driver, "Thank you very much for taking us to school again!" He said it so cheerfully, I wouldn't be able to do that as he does. The driver waved back at us as he drove off. 

I lowered my head after glancing up at the building in front of me. I knew it deep down that no matter what, Yves would always worry about me. with my hand in his again, he towed me along to the doors and just as he was opening them, I asked with a quiver to my voice, "Why do you worry about me, Yves?"

I don't think I've ever seen this from him before. His face was filled with hurt. There was something different about it this time that made my heart ache terribly.