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I watched you come back from the kitchen for the tenth time this evening, carrying yet another bag of snack food, and another soda. You sat back down on the sofa, eyes glued to the sci-fi movie I'd randomly stuck into the DVD player. We had barely said anything since you walked into my door, eyes pointing down in defeat. I knew why you'd come. You were torn over your emotions again. One side of you wanted something you couldn't have, but would do anything to get; the other side suppressed to fight for what you craved the most. Not what, rather, but who.
“What's the matter, MiA?” I asked, though really, I didn't need to. I knew.
After a long drink of soda, you spoke around a mouthful of chips, “She's on a date.”
“Oh...” I really didn't know what else to say. I'm terrible with words. I knew what was going on in your world. You felt comfortable enough to tell me. And, as thankful as I am for you to feel that way, I could never tell you how much it hurts at the same time.
“Tell me what's going on with you.”
I couldn't help but laugh a sad little laugh. Here I was, offering, happily, to be your comfort, you knew it... Yet you'd only want me to say it. “I'm just hanging out with you.” Goddammit, I'm awkward.
You laughed, and it made me smile. “I suppose you're right.” Your eyes went back to the screen, and you chomped on another potato chip. The bag said sour cream and cheddar.
It was always this way. In comparison to the span of our lives, we hadn't really known each other that long, yet every new detail I learned about you made it feel like I'd known you forever. Every new detail made it harder for me to pull away from you, because it was becoming harder not to fall. I didn't want to fall for you, but god, I was coming dangerously close.
“I don't know weather to stay or run away from you.” My heart hammered hard behind my ribs. My stomach flipped when you turned wide eyes to me. I felt terrible about bringing this up. Again. But like a drunk, I couldn't stop myself from vomiting more words.
“Meto, don't run away. Please?” The bag of chips went down to the table next to the empty soda. I knew I should stop. I knew if I said any more, it would only work your emotions up and then... then I couldn't stop you from doing what I knew you would do.
“I don't want to.” I looked down, fumbling with a small fan-made teddy bear in bondage ropes.
“I mean... If that's what you want to do... If it will make you feel better... I.. I don't really know what to say... I hate losing friends.”
And there it was, a punch to the gut. That word: friends... Maybe it would be better if I just shoved you away so hard you wouldn't know what hit you. You'd be rid of me finally, though. You wouldn't have to hear my depressing tangents about how terrible I feel for having feelings for you. I knew you didn't return them at all. I knew there was absolutely zero chance.
But... I wanted to be your friend, at the very least. I wanted to hear your happy stories, and comfort you when you were upset. All I ever want is for you to be happy... But at what cost?
I'll slowly feel myself tearing apart. The cold wall around my heart will become even colder, harder. I'll become even more distant with emotions. I'll become numb again. That would be much better than to hurt so much wouldn't it?
I smile up at you and grab for your bag of chips, snatching one into my mouth and sticking out my tongue at the feigned look of offense on your face. “We should go to the park and play on the swings.”
Your laughter was the most beautiful sound to me right then. The sparkle in your eyes made my heartache worth it, and you nodded. “I like the sound of that, but you can't scare the children!”
Leave it to me to break the sad conversation with something random.