Page 142 of 912321

I watch as her soft eyes travel over me, like she’s trying to figure out what she’s seeing.

“Uhm…Yeah, Hayz. Don’t worry, and have fun,” I tell her, smiling.

She keeps frowning, but eventually nods. “Okay, I love you,” she says sincerely.

“I love you too,” I reply, as I walk backward toward my dorm, forcing myself to keep smiling there until the door is between us.

The second it closes, my body gives up. I turn the lock, then slowly slide down against the door, until I’m sitting on the floor.

I don’t know why I’m shaking, or why my chest feels so tight I can’t breathe correctly. It was just a small, a stupid, familiar smell.

Blue appears a few seconds later and circles me before climbing into my lap. He looks at me like he’s disappointed and doesn't understand why I’m crying in silence when he’s right here. A small broken laugh escapes me. “You’re such a strange little thing.”

His paw presses gently against my cheek, right where a tear falls, and something about that almost breaks me. I lean forward and press a kiss to his head, whispering, “Thank you, Blue.”

He blinks, then, apparently satisfied enough that I’m still alive, he walks away and jumps onto the desk by the window, watching the world outside like nothing happened.

My phone buzzes from my pocket and I wipe under my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt before reaching for it.

One notification.

Library: In 10 minutes at the same place. Bring your sketchbook.

I find myself smiling, as my fingers hover over the screen. I should probably ask why or tell him that I’m tired. Instead I type:

Me: Okay

I put my phone down and stood up. My hands reach for my sketchbook and next thing I know, my jacket is on. I kiss Blue one last time, put my cigarettes in my pocket and leave.

One thing to calm my mind, and one thing to keep it busy.

60

Damien

Play - Fear of the Water by SYML

We were here

Blue eyes haunt me.

Blue eyes have stolen my sleep, my sense of responsibilities. They stole my control.

I can see them everywhere if I focus enough.

A sickening feeling squeezes my chest every time they appear. Need, confusion, torture, they all blend and punish me for wanting more.

The wind is colder here tonight. I lied to myself all week long, pretending nothing changed and that all I needed was air and distance to have some space to think.

But all I can think of is the fabric between us, and the way she looked at me like she wanted to break the rule as much as I did.

I hear her footsteps and when I turn she’s standing there like always, her sketchbook in one hand and on the other her cigarettes.

“You’re here,” I say.

She sits down next to me, and her eyebrow lifts before she replies, “You invited me.”

My eyes drop briefly to the sketchbook then back to her as her hand reaches out for the lighter in her pocket. The one I gave her. Her hair dances with the wind as she lights her first cigarette of the night. The ocean reflects in her eyes and all I can do is stare.