I sit on the worn, wooden steps.
The clouds roll over my head, an endless grey, melancholy haze. Water droplets form on my clothes and my skin. It seems different today. Less like the rain that you see on windows and more like when a storm starts rolling up the hills of a desert.
Crisper.
I glance up and see a mop of blueberry hair strolling my way. I scoot over on the little porch step I'm sitting on to make room for him. He graciously sits down and we sit there silently, basking in each others presence. Time stops, slows and speeds up all at once.
After all the clouds have disappeared on a new voyage, he sits up and softly whispers to nobody in particular.
"It's different today. I don't know how to describe it. It's just."
"Crisper"
I whisper, hoping we were on the same train of thought. He absentmindedly nods, and I'm filled with relief. We return to the comfortable silence, bathing in it like a deep blue ocean. We seem to never fill the silence, and we seem to never need to. Its like perfect lines are being drawn from me to him.
But soon I'm not as at peace as before. The lines are being disrupted and scribbled before they can reach him. He knits his eyebrows together and opens his mouth in a manner that suggests that he is going to speak, but then he just closes his mouth.
"What is it?" I utter
"You can tell me anything."
He opens his mouth to speak again, but then just sighs. I tentatively put my hand on his shoulder. He stares at me with a strange soreness.
"He left. He finally hit the breaking point"
He eyes his knees in shame and sorrow.
My heart sinks.
"It not your fault. He just. just. .uh"
I want to continue but he glances at me and I know that its best if I just stay quiet. His mother has been rostering through boyfriends that seem to be gone as soon as they arrive. They're usually dirtbags, but Mark was nice. He was the only guy that seemed to care more about Ryan and his mother than a bottle of beer. But of course, Ryan's mother just couldn't act sane enough to keep him around. He really loved them, but there are some things that aren't worth sticking around for. I felt bad, but I know that Ryan just felt guilty, and his mother was probably passed out somewhere.
"Don't let this define you. Your identity is more than the people that hold you back. This is just an experience. It will make you stronger. You just have to keep your head above the water. You are more than the actions of your mother."
I know that he's not listening, but I speak anyway.
"Why is everyone repulsed by me?"
The words echo through the air, and I fish for an answer I will never catch. We return to our silence, but it is not nearly as comfortable as before. It's agitated, restless. I hate it. Precipitously, his phone vibrates, and he is gone. I am alone on the steps once again.
***
I am awake. My eyes are open and I am awake. Because how can I sleep? Ryan is lost, and there is no way to find him. He says its nothing, but I know it isn't. I worry that the factors that make up his identity will diminish. He will let this become a part of him, until it is him. He won't be Ryan. He will be sorrow, longing and guilt. And he won't be my friend.
I hear voices, circling around my head, and I imagine lining them up. Right now, there is five. Five separate voices I need to silence. I take a steady breath, and visualise duct taping the mouths closed. They should be quiet now. But they are not. I can still hear them, but I am sure they are sufficiently duct taped down. My eyes dart all across my mind, until I get to the bottom right corner, where there are five more voices sitting and singing the words I do not want to hear. I line them up, just like I had before, but they will not stay quiet. They are respawning and regrouping, just like a game of Joust or Galaga.
I am overwhelmed.
I am lost.
I am awake.
(A/N. This was just experimental writing for me and is not really meant for anything except for practice? Idk this story doesn't really make sense)
