Supernovas & Escapism

Chapter Twenty-Four

     I am not like most people to Garth Vega. I am someone he cannot choose to bear the punches against. He'd much rather hide from me than accept that there's something to stand up against.

     It's tragic, and yet it gives me hope in this boy.

     A sigh allows me to relieve some of the tension that's been building up inside me. The fire is still there, but at least for now it isn't making y every word feel like a poisonous threat.

     "I'm sorry," I respond.

     "Don't be," he replies, shuffling a little closer to the car again.

     I clear my throat. "Do you mind if I ask?"

     Just like that, his eyes drift away. It's an invitation to pry in on his world, but it's such a reluctant one. He's making sure that I know that he's not happy about any of this, but that he also has nothing to hide.

     Before I can comprehend movement, I find my legs dangling over the edge of the car. My hands are placed firmly in my lap, unfolded for the first time in what feels like forever. They still ache with the longing to wail on someone, and they would soon get that, however now was not really the time.

     "What happened?"

     Garth bounces from foot to foot as best he can considering how he looks. Every few bounces, he will dig the toe of his boot into the ground, kicking up dirt as he goes. Eyes that I wish would look at me are trained on the ground.

     I can tell he's considering his response, because his whole body stiffened just the slightest bit when I posed my question. As much as he might have been expecting me to say something, giving him that carefully worded question seemed to be enough to overwhelm him. It was almost strange seeing him like this. I never supposed that the boy who had an answer to everything would be stumped so easily.

     He sighs too, but it isn't like mines. His feels like the walls surrounding him and me might just be blown down if he responds.

     I want this to be a safe space for both of us. I want for us both to feel comfortable talking to each other. Trusting each other was the most difficult hurdle we would ever have to cross, but once we did it, then there would be nothing left.

     "He gets angry sometimes."

     With this, he bounces one last time, and I swear he bounces just a little higher. It's almost like he's weightless in that moment. That's not how it works, I know, but there's just something about it that makes sense.

     "Your dad," I say bluntly, cutting through everything. It's not so much a question as it is a response. I don't need to know who he is because truthfully, I already know.

     "Yup."

     "He hit's you."

     "Yup."

     "And you just stand there and take it?" Maybe this is the wrong thing to say because I've never been in this situation. But the logical side of my brain thinks that fighting back should be an option. Hell, even running away would be a valid response to everything. I'm annoyed and he can feel it come off of me in waves.

     This time he doesn't respond. Instead he remains motionless, the only signs of life being the slow heaving of his chest as it inhales and exhales.

     It takes me a few moments to realize what's going on; he's shutting down on me.

     The only reason I know is because the only other time I've seen anyone like this is when my father just found out that my mom, his wife, had just passed on. The way his eyes just went dead, and all emotion seemed to just obliterate from his face. How he couldn't even function properly in that moment. You could tell he wanted to cry out but that his brain had just locked him out. The way he had become so cold and stiff, not unlike the corpses sitting a few floors down.

     It's the complete stillness that is a shock to me because now I'm worried about him, and that makes me want to shut down. Because honestly, I shouldn't care this much about him. And it's the fact that I do that terrifies me.

     I am inches from his face in a matter of moments. My entire body feels heavy, as if mimicking every ounce of physical and emotional pain he must be feeling right now. The rage that burned for him before now burns for myself and his father. Every motion feels like it's underwater; in slow motion and almost too sluggish to be real. In spite of this, I feel my arms go around his shoulders and draw him in.

     Neither of us are expecting the embrace, but once Garth figures out what has happened, he has his own arms wrapped around me, face bunched into my chest. It's tight, and I can tell that he doesn't want to let go. To be fair to him, neither do I. I want to just stay like this and assure him that everything is okay. I want so badly to wash away all the rain in his life, become something much more than a star. I want the black hole of my heart to become one with him and swallow the pain he feels.

     Garth is crying a little into me, and I can tell he is holding back. He's trying to be strong and show me that he can tough it out.

     Right now, I would not think any less of him if he broke down in front of me.

     "I'm sorry," he mumbled between soft gasps of air.

     "Don't be."

     Garth pulled his face to the side, resting it against me but looking out to the scenery. The moon was now hung high in the sky, never daring to falter too much. Too many the night may have been young, but this was not the case for us. The night had already been so long, and carried itself with so much weight.

     "Xavier," Garth softly said into the darkness.

     "Yeah?"

     "I don't want to go home tonight."