"Sometimes it's better being alone," you murmur in the thick silence that's laced through the air.
"What do you mean?" I turn around in the bed, half unwillingly, because the blanket is warm, and still smells like you.
You know, a number of curious things have happened since you entered my life, such as the butterfly resort growing in the pit of my stomach, the interest I suddenly take in your voice, and my addiction to your scent. Sweet, yet somehow not, just like the forest on cold, rainy days, with the air cold and stinging my cheeks.
Your face is pressed against my pillow, so that only one of your eyes is completely open. And you're looking at me, memorizing my face, it seems, in a way that makes me blush. "It's just... better," you whisper, and your voice is husky and sad, so sad I want to cry, though I hardly know why.
"You can't explain it?" I try again, and scoot just a tiny bit closer under the covers. You touch my cheek with your fingertips and purse your lips. You have this thoughtful look on. You're brooding, I realize just a moment too late, you don't even see me anymore.
"When you're alone, nobody can hurt you."
Silence.
Then I take a deep breath. "Have I ever hurt you?"
"No." You pause. "But you will."
"What if I promise not to?"
"Then you'd be lying."
I study your face; the curves of your eye, the sharp cheek, the curvy nose. You seem so sure of yourself right now. I wish I had a mirror, so you could see the stubborn shape of your mouth.
Sometimes I'm so scared you'll fly away.
"Then is it just better to stay all alone?" I ask softly. I think tears are catching in my throat, but I'm not sure. There you go, leaving me, but not really leaving, just like always.
"Yeah, I think so."
Silence.
Then I take a deep breath. "I think you're wrong. I'll prove you wrong."
Finally, you smile. Your teeth sparkle in the dim light. "I said sometimes, didn't I?"
Gender:
Points: 8198
Reviews: 203