A collision of raw flaws inevitably divorce proximity between the innocent and the tainted.
But will history straddle its suffice as means of fusing the differences mocking a faint decision, or will it just rot the bandaged hope fragile in heal?
Wi...
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The pain spirals the whole of my back, snaking into the shoulder that hasn't sobered enough to emit rehab. Its like rubbing alcohol to an open wound. I clench my teeth to withhold the intensity as I make myself useful. The table's ledge wars with my lack of strength, stubborn to fight gravity.
"Let me get that."
I drop the weight fast, my shoulder sighing, then panting. The electricity resides into a bearable cramp. I watch as Adam lifts the mountain of mass to the opposite side of the auditorium with nothing but ease.
I still couldn't comprehend why he was still here, so late, after everything.
-
"Noah," he offers a hand across the table, his face sweet with polite greeting.
I bite viciously into my cheek as Adam glares at Noah's hand, his eyebrow raised in audacity. Nothing happens except residing disrespect, his head moved to his right, a hidden smirk. His jaw remains clenched as Noah's hand stands ground.
The shift of energy is felt within a second. I can now clearly differentiate between the perturbed silence of our table and the rest of the hall that maintains high notes of chaotic.
"Adam," I hiss under my breath in fury.
He looks up, eyebrow raised as his eyes relax from the venom they've been fed. A loud exhale. I watch him lift his arms from under the table to stare at Noah's hand for another second before rolling his eyes and giving a firm shake. It is forced, his unnecessary anger suffocated towards the gesture.
And its all in silence as Amani quickly diverts her attention towards food. I knew she was disappointed, the adopted distance between us epitomizing it. But for the first time in my life, I appreciated my honesty, raw and full of truth. I didn't want to feel guilty anymore. It was exhausting me, I didn't deserve it. I knew I didn't.
Yet the guilt of others pain shackles me prisoner.
"Adam," he mutters, dark eyebrows curled in disinterest.
And then he sits down, continuing to eat. I stare at the mountainous realm of food Adam put on my plate, each spoon giving me nausea.
The lights are very dim so there isn't much of visual capacity. I am fond of it however- a dew of peace.
"You eat like a snail," I hear a scoff beside me, my cheeks fume before the sentence has even stepped on the finish line.
New pressure cooks in my head, everything colliding together.
I've heard that before; I am the slowest eater.
"I'm full," I dismiss.
"You know, God isn't fond of wasters."
My eyes widen. I turn to my right where he is sitting, one hand holding his head and another resting on the table, strands of dark hair seeking forward's place. He stares at me with humour, but also a hint of awe. And then he smiles, so gentle, the softness of his eyes glow. One silhouette of dreams, visions. All my thoughts evaporate.
