Page 71 of Yearning Difficulties

‘Stop it!’

‘You can’t process the feelings. You’ve been hurt by so many neurotypicals. But I’m here. There’s no deadline for what you feel. You don’t have to rush yourself into a box or a neat and tidy answer. Just let yourself be complicated. You have a brilliant, complex brain that’s trying to survive in a world that’s shut it out. People have been demanding you simplify and water down that brain and everything you feel so that you’re easier to digest. But. I. Don’t. Want. That.’

And after eighteen years of feeling like a puppet with tangled strings, always fated to watch other people perform the way they were expected to, my heart broke in two.

I wanted so badly for his words to be true. But if they were, I had to ask questions. He and Cherry had been found. They knew for sure. They’d been chosen, in a sense. They had the papers and the label and the knowledge. While it probably made nothing easier for them, they at least had something to grasp on to.

But not me. Maybe I’d learned to mask it all too well. Maybe survival had become the ultimate camouflage.

And if I was the same as them, I also wasn’t stupid. I’d seen how the world treated them. I’d seen Killian walking through the corridors at school with that label hanging over him.

My comebacks to being constantly called a freak would not be as biting as his. I wasn’t as practised.

‘Zella,’ Killian spoke softly, wrapping my hand in his own. ‘Let me be there for you. I’m not like the others, you can count on me. I’ll take it all.’

My eyes unconsciously glanced back at the Tolkien book and the old wound hurt, sending a stab of agony through me. ‘We can’t, Killian.’ You’re in love with someone else. The bitterness that rose up in me made me say something I’d never have uttered otherwise. Not under any circumstances.

‘I’m sorry to kill your shot at a quick lay during a thunderstorm, but we can’t.’

It had the desired effect. He flinched and drew away from me, shocked by the coldness in my voice and by the horrible thing I’d said. I could feel his eyes on me, wordlessly insisting that I take the words back, but I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

‘Is that really what you think of me?’ he asked quietly.

No. Of course it wasn’t. He wasn’t like the others. But he would realize, like everyone did when it came to me, that whatever light was on the end of the anglerfish, it wasn’t worth being lured in. I was very used to people coming in for a closer look and then backing off.

I’d learned not to mistake fascination for love.

‘I can’t believe you’d say that to me, Zella.’

His disgust made me feel ashamed. I pulled my dress zipper up by myself and whispered, ‘I’m gonna go.’

I didn’t want Killian to settle for me. I didn’t want to be some stand-in for the girl he’d been pining for. A part of me thought the ride might be worth it but then I’d remember the yearning on his face when he’d spoken about kissing her just once. Once had been enough for him to feel things that no one had ever felt for me.

It would hurt too much. It would all be too hard to recover from.

She wasn’t me. I wasn’t her. And I didn’t want to be left behind any more.

‘You can’t go, Zella, it’s crazy weather out there,’ he said, his voice like shattered glass. ‘Stay with me. Please.’

I felt the rush of a hundred heartbreaks. ‘I can’t.’

‘You can sleep in here. I’ll take one of the spare rooms. Or you can. Either works. But you can’t walk or drive in this wind. It’s not happening.’

We glared at each other, wondering who would be the first to break. I finally gave in, texting my parents to tell them I was staying with a friend. Killian silently fetched me a long, clean T-shirt to wear to bed. I borrowed some mouthwash in the en-suite bathroom and when I came back into his room, the Tolkien and the Post-it note were both gone and Killian was lounging on his double bed.

Don’t be stupid, Zella. Don’t be pathetic.

‘We can share,’ I heard myself say.

Too late.

He didn’t fight the idea. He lifted the coverlet and moved along a little so I could slide in next to him. He switched off the small bedside light, leaving us both in darkness. His body was stiff and standoffish next to mine and I was aware of his bare skin. And that he was only wearing pyjama bottoms.

He was on his back and I wondered if his eyes were closed or if he was staring at the ceiling. I turned onto my side so I was facing him.

‘I’m sorry, Kill.’

His breathing quickened a tiny amount, letting me know he’d heard my whisper in the blackness. I moved closer, gently draping an arm across his torso. He reached up to hold it more firmly against his skin.