[title] Loving you, it’s crazy
[summary] you hold back for so long, you just hurt him with each breath you take
[a/n] D< I credit Epik High’s Girl from their album – Pieces, Part One, for instigating the writing of this. My English language exam is over, and I really ought not be writing now, but rather, study for mathematics. But I guess life is a matter of choice, some things (like this) just bugs you for so long that you can’t forget, that you can’t shake it off. I wasn’t going for angst, really! But Girl is… kind of angst-y, I provided a link – so listen! No idea what the lyrics mean though, I haven’t gone to look it up, I only followed the feelings ‘inspired’ by this, I guess.
Don’t kill me if it sucks, I acknowledge that my writing skills have seriously deteriorated to the point of (possibly) no return.
For Thea, and Kerri (:
There comes a time in life where everything moves in a constant blur – you can never recall the exact details of the day, you will stumble into bed with no coherent thought in your mind.
You will tell yourself nothing's wrong you will tell yourself that you are just tired. (but you can’t deny it)
Your life is a constant blur – only because you are only focused on one thing. So sharp, so clear, so exquisitely craved that it hurts too much to even glance its way.
You called him “it”, you refuse to acknowledge the erroneousness of it all. You could spend hours seeing him sleep, knowing that it is the only time you would dare look at him (you need him in your life)
You know that he will wake up and smile his crooked smile – so innocent, so full of warmth, such trust. You fear it, you fear the fragility of his smile, and you fear that you will be the one who shatters it.
You like the way the silence settles comfortably around the both of you when he is lost in his thoughts, you constantly watch out for his changes in expression – the quick anger, the slight shake of his head, the sudden smile he flashes towards you. (it is scary to know your emotions change with his)
But watching him makes you vulnerable. You know his moods, you know his likes, his dislikes, you know what makes him tick. You can read him like a picture book, you can deduce his every emotion through his little actions, but it frustrates you – you cannot understand him, you do not know what goes through his mind.
Some days you see him staring into empty space, eyes glazed over with an incomprehensible emotion as he unconsciously clenches his fingers. You feel the urge to walk up to him, to give him a big hug and breathe in his scent, you want to give in to this impulse so much. (but you are afraid, you hold back)
It does not make sense, does it? The way you are wrapped around his tiny finger results in guilty feelings of pleasure, and yet you are angry – just so angry with yourself. You will happily whip up a storm for him in the kitchen, and yet you will curse when you realise that you have depleted half the food stock just for one meal – just for him.
You always see him pretending to sleep, so desperately trying to control the tears that refuse to stop; you can see him stuffing his fist into his mouth to silence the sobs – to block the outflow of emotions. He thinks he messed up a performance for everyone, but you know otherwise, you know that he is improving (and then your heart breaks)
You are hesitant, he thinks that no one knows, no one realises, no one cares. But you do, but you are simply a coward, simply a lousy human who does not dare fight to protect what he wants, what he loves, what he needs. The guilt slowly nibbles away the wall around your heart, you fight so hard to resist it – you tell yourself that it is mere temptation; you tell yourself that it is nothing.
But one day, when he trips and falls midway during a comeback performance – you know it is double the pain for him. He jokes and smiles his weary smile before creeping away to his bed, to his dark haven. You berate yourself, fingers trembling as you angrily grip the frying pan, viciously frying his favourite scrambled eggs as your way of apologising – your apology for turning away from him for so long.
He refuses to get up, he refuses to even look at you. You try to tempt him with the eggs, you plead to no avail. You reach out, grabbing his wrist, demanding that he looks at you for just one moment. (the wall around your heart crumbles to dust)
He lies so still, so still that you worry he has given up on life. But you can feel the small tremors as he struggles to silence himself. You are still a fool, you still stand beside his bed, you still pretend you are unaware. And he understands, he knows you will not let yourself acknowledge it, so he stops – numbing silence settling over you both, seemingly far away from the chaos just metres away outside.
You control yourself, you force yourself to gently place the plate of eggs on the bedside table, and then you sink to your knees, eyes searching for any sign of forgiveness in his beautiful orbs. But you see none, but your hands just reach out to encircle him, and you give in – you gather him close and hold him tight as his scent overwhelms you. Long unshed tears stains his shirt, and you whisper, just so silently (I’m sorry)
And then you sense it as he silently breathes out (he accepts)