everything goes

march 25th, 2015

Was it a spur of the moment? 

Is it supposed to hurt this much? Shouldn't he be sighing in relief? Be content now that he's out, he escaped, he's free? Should he feel complacency? Should he feel guilt? Should he feel? 

It feels like a deadlock weight is settled upon his chest. Is it crushing his lungs or is it crushing him? Either way, it's getting hard to breathe. Will a cigarette help? He shakes his head; how the fuck will a cigarette help? 

He feels a hand in his hair and he inhales sharply. A lump forms in his throat as he feels a breath against the back of his neck and he stifles a sob. He wants to say something, show something, do something– why are you being so nice to me?

It's starting to hurt. The hand feels heavy, his lungs feel suffocated, he feels like he's being slowly asphyxiated. It hurts and he's too scared to speak. It hurts and he's too anxious to tell him he loves him. 

So, he doesn't. The hand withdraws from his hair and the weight gradually slips from upon his chest. He feels fingers fumble with his own until a palm is pressed against his. Why are both of their hands shaking?

Should he keep his composure or should he breakdown? Will his expression of vulnerability display his need for security? He doesn't know and he's too scared to ask. He's asked for enough. He feels an overwhelming emotion of greed. I should be able to ask for more than enough. Then he feels disgusted– I'm not allowed to feel this selfish. And then it's an internal battle between his apathy and his empathy, his self awareness and his self worth. 

"Are you okay?"

He breaks down. 

He hiccups, swallows thickly, and cries louder when arms wrap around his shoulders. He doesn't want to hide his face in his shoulder. He doesn't want a hug. He pushes him away.

His blurry vision locks with the his gaze. The brown eyes are dull and they reflect back his own. He receives a watery smile and he urges himself to give one back. But he can't and the other understands. 

He feels the hand in his hair, the breath fanning against the back of his neck. One last time, and then it's gone.

Now everything goes back to it's place, except for him.