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“But I can’t climb up there.”
I said while looking up at you. You were standing at the top of the ladder that led out to the rooftop.
“It’s too narrow for me.”
Your father wasn’t at home, so you invited me over yesterday. Today it’s friday, so even my parents allowed me to spend the night at your place. They didn’t know that we’d be alone though. But that was alright. Sometimes lying can give you some sort of freedom, control.
Control over things is something I don’t get often. But when I’m with you then even this is possible.
She also didn’t know that I brought alcohol with me.
“Don’t be scared, just climb already!”
You hurried me with the colour red on your cheeks. You looked tiddley, standing unsteady on your feet.
“If I fall, will you catch me?”
A grabbed the sides of the ladder with a strong grip. I felt my body rather warmed up. This must’ve been because of the drink.
You looked confused for a minute, brows frowning. But then your smile returned anyway.
“Sure.”, you answered sillily. As if gravity worked that way.
I looked up and gazed into your chocolate brown eyes hopingly.
“You promise?”
“I promise!”, you reached out your hand. You always had long, slender fingers. You liked to paint them with black nail polish.
I nodded then started to climb after you. It was scary, especially when I got to the top because I didn't know how to position my feet to get over the edge of the roof door. Or the roof window? Oh my, booze really confuses my brain cells.
You grabbed my hand and helped me out. I fell to the ground with trembling feet. I couldn't believe I really just climbed up to the roof of a four-story building. The landlady would scold us if she saw what we were doing. It was illegal, we knew that, but breaking the rules made you so happy.
How could I resist?
“Hey, you okay there?”, you crouched down next to me, looking at me with your big puppy eyes. You only looked that way when you were tipsy. You usually didn’t allow yourself to show emotions when you were sober. That was okay, as long as you occasionally opened up to me about yourself from time to time, and to me only.
“Yes”, I beamed a shining smile at you. The corners of your rosy thin lips also twitched upwards. I stood up letting out a relieved sigh.
“Let’s sit there”, you pointed at the edge of the flat roof. There were no barriers or so.
I was starting to rumble about the danger, but the words got stuck in my throat as I noticed the view of the city.
Street lamps flickered dimly. I could see all the way to the city centre, the lights of huge buildings illuminated the horizon, so the stars were sadly swallowed up by light pollution. In the other part of the city, beyond the centre, stood a wide hill, on which the small lights of so many houses flickered sleepily.
The rumbling sounds of public transport echoed from the distant nightlife of the city. The music of a house party far away reached us, muffled and not at all clear or intelligible. The housing estate you lived in with your father was in a quiet dream at that hour. No one could be seen on the streets, everyone was at home living their daily lives.
A light breeze rustled the leaves of the park below us. On the old playground, a hoarse creak could be heard as the rusty swing was pushed slightly by the powerless wind.
As the coldness of the air caressed my face, a sudden realisation hit me.
“Crowley!”, I exclaimed.
“Wot?”
“We left the booze downstairs!”
You were already headed towards the edge, but at my statement you froze and spun my way. “FUCK!”, you ran back to the ladder, “Wait a sec, I go back for it.”
I giggled at your eagerness. I sat down on the edge of the roof and waited. I swung my legs as I marvelled at how high we were actually. It was scary and exciting at the same time.
A few moments later you were already back carrying a plastic bag that was holding onto dear life because of how packed it was.
You took out two small glasses that had blue cornflower patterns on it. “Hold them” you put them in my hands and I hold them carefully. Lastly you removed the already opened whisky bottle from the bag and poured it for the both of us.
“Enough-enough, I can’t drink that much- Crowley!” I laughed when you poured even more despite my protest.
“A-ah, we’ve to be equally drunk” you laughed with me, “It’d be awkward if only I behaved like a clown.”
“We’ll both be clowns then.”
“Yeah” you closed the bottle back then your eyes ran over its label “Whisky, eh? Your father has a taste.”
I grimaced “Well sorry that he has standards.”
You burst out laughing “He would be blown away by his standards if he found out that his child stole his prized booze from his dear collection.”
I took a small sip, still unfamiliar with the bitter taste. “And who’s fault is that?”
You gasped dramatically and held your hand to your chest. “Now you’ve deeply hurt me.”
I chuckled at your unquestionably great acting performance. As my laugh faded away, a heavy feeling of remorse started to rise up in me. I wasn’t supposed to do this. It’s not that my parents banned me from it or something like that. Among my siblings I was the clever, the hard working, the calm one, the dutiful. I had good grades, and they were proud of me. So it was clear that I wasn’t allowed to get drunk, swear, or lie. Little did they know about me.
But they never even cared that much anyway.
You must’ve noticed my concern because suddenly you touched my upper arm.
“Hey don’t worry about that” you said “They won’t find out it was you. They accuse your brother, like last time.” you stopped for a moment, thinking “Or the time before that.” you shrugged your shoulders “Looks like you're a master thief.”
“Oh stop that, you terror. It’s not something one should brag about!”
“I wanna see your father’s face when he notices one of his bottles is missing. It’d be a fucking hilarious sight.” you took a few sips from your glass, shivering because of the bitterness it must’ve left in your mouth. “Your father deserves to suffer a bit.”
My lips formed a thin line. “You shouldn’t say something like that. No one deserves to suffer.”
“Neither do you.” you pointed at me with your hand that also held the glass “Or your mother. Or your brothers. And I can say sure he gives a lot of trouble to you.”
I paddled with the cornflower patterned glass in my hands. “That may be true, but he’s still my father. As your father is your father, no matter what happens.”
You snorted loudly at my statement which was predictable, I guess.
Silence fell upon us. You turned your gaze towards the city lights, completely avoiding my look.
“You still didn’t make it up with him, did you?”
At first you didn’t move, but then you slowly shook your head. Your crimson locks moved along with the motion. “I don’t think he cares.”
I was looking at you helplessly. Maybe because of the alcohol, but I really wanted to hold out to you. You drank the whisky from your glass in one go, tilted your head back so I was able to observe the exposed skin of your neck. Looking at you made me uncertain, took all my braveness away.
You looked so fragile.
“Where is he?” you broke the silence “He’s never here. Not when I’d need him. Not when it’d actually fucking matter. Not that I’m better. I’m a horrible person too. But at least I’m not an asshole.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, I didn’t want to discourage you from talking about your feelings. Silly me, always got so emotional about everything. Everything that included you.
“It’s no surprise mother left us.”
You took out from your jacket’s pocket a black Benson & Hedges box. At that moment you were completely turned towards the other direction. I wanted to reach out, to hold your hand, to make you safe, to show you that I was here with you.
But all I had was my voice and the words were my only companions.
“Your mother would be proud, I think.” I tried to smile reassuringly “You turned out just fine. You’re a very nice and kind person, Crowley. And this matters more than you think.”
You looked at me with wide eyes that shined foggy with tears. Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to form the correct words. In the end you didn’t say anything. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold all of your broken pieces together.
“I’m not nice.”, the corners of your lips twitched upwards a little, “But thank you.” you mumbled incomprehensibly. You handed me the pack of cigarettes and I took one from it. I usually didn’t smoke, but smoking with you while drunk is an experience I shall never turn down. You always offered it to me generously. I mean, you also used to lend cigarettes to others at school, but you always expected the favour back from them. And here I am, already owed you so many, but you never expected me to return it. And yet you spent almost all of your pocket money on it.
Things like that make my silly little heart too much joy.
You lit your own cigarettebutt, but didn’t shut the lighter down. I leaned into your hand that held it and let mine catch fire as I breathed in a little. I could smell your cheap perfume that reminded me of wild roses after rain, but the cigarette’s choking smoke suppressed this familiar smell.
I straightened back up and coughed a little at the first few smokey breaths, unlike you who was smoking it like it was pure air.
“You okay?”, you asked silently in a choked voice.
“Yes, I just need to get used to it.”
“Alright.”
You leaned back and supported yourself on your arms. You stretched out your long, lean legs and let them dangle from the roof of the building. You held the cigarette in your mouth.
You know, despite having this wonderful sight of the city before us, despite the beautiful city lights, the houses, and even though we couldn’t see them but despite all the stars above us I wasn’t looking at any of it.
Of course, I tried to not make it obvious. It’d be rude to stare directly at you all the time.
It wasn’t just your looks. I liked you because you were you, with your silliness, your sharp lines, your smile, your eyes, your jokes, your scent, your wild spirit, your voice, your will to just be yourself… Even if we were sitting in the middle of the universe, stars and nebulas surrounding us I’d still be looking at you. As if you hung the stars in the sky.
For me, you did.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me. What you make me feel everytime I see you. But I don't want you to feel like I'm pulling you down. I don't want you to be tied down because of me. You should be free to experience so much, but I'm too slow for that. You’re too fast for me, for my slow heart and I know that.
All I can do is to be a safe shoulder you can lean on everytime you need to. And that’s fine. As long as you’ll need me, that’ll be fine.
And of course I’m not a boy either.
You always told me about your stories with them, sometimes you even asked me for advice - which was ridiculous, because I didn’t even know what it felt like to be in love with the opposite gender. You wouldn’t know it of course, we haven’t talked about this yet at that time.
But I tried to help you, tugging my jealousy away. A lot of boys from our school wanted to get close to you - honestly, I can’t blame them, you’ve got quite a charm - but failed. In most cases the problem was that they haven’t caught your attention, and deep down somewhere I was very glad that most boys from our school were that boring to you.
The silence that had become comfortable was broken by the beeping of your phone. You took it out and looked at the screen. I tilted my head to the side and carefully read the message myself. Looks like I just had to mention the boys.
lightbearer666: hey you still awake?
“Is it Lucifer?”, I asked quietly. You nodded and took out the cig from your mouth.
“He is very enthusiastic.” you let out a sigh as smoke was slowly flowing out from between your lips.
“And how do we feel about him?”
“Ngk. I don’t know…” your thumb was moving uncertainly above the keyboard as if you didn’t know what to write back “He’s okay, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I mean… He has great humour and… He’s the rebellious type.”
In other words, for you that meant fun. He was fun to be with. Fun enough to worry about what to answer back to him.
“On Monday we sneaked out to smoke in the street. We didn’t even get caught.”
Well, that was new. Whenever you did something… mischievous you never forgot to tell me, or include me. How come I’ve never heard of it even since it happened more than four days ago?
Our high school was not only a religious school, but it was also horribly strict. It was specified how long a girl's skirt could be, how much of her shoulders could be shown; boys couldn't have had their hair longer than their shoulders. We prayed before the first class in the morning, and again after classes in the afternoon.
One of the main rules was that no one was allowed to leave the school’s territory during class time.
Of course, many of the students - all of them - didn’t care about it. A lot of our classmates smoked, and many of them sneaked out or hid in the second floor’s girl bathroom. If you got along with the right teachers, you could even avoid punishment.
“I see.” was all I could push out of myself.
You must’ve noticed the change in my voice, because you stared at me and even forgot to flick the ash off your cigarette.
A bitter feeling of jealousy came over me. It was like I was stuck in tar. I was sticky everywhere, and no matter how hard I tried to peel it off, it only stuck tighter. My stomach twisted again with guilt. I felt guilty for feeling this way, I shouldn't feel this way.
I’m so, so selfish.
Why can’t I just tug away my feelings? Why do they have to be here?
“Did he ask you out already?” I said.
“Not yet” you shook your head “But I think he plans to.”
“Oh? Did he give signs about it?”
You shrugged. “It’s just a feeling, really.” Your tensed arms relaxed and you flicked your cig with your thumb. “But I hope he won’t. Or at least not in the near future.”
I raised my eyebrows at that.
“Why?”
Lucifer was the best option. He was handsome, clever, very social and everyone liked him. Every girl would have died to be able to go out with him.
“He’s like aaa…” you searched the words “Ugh. Hm, well.” you nodded to yourself “I like him as a friend. At the moment.”
Well, that was progress. You didn’t even consider the previous ones as friends.
“You’ve extremely high standards, my dear.” I giggled in a kind way.
“Nooo, that’s not true.” you protested “It’s just that everyone is dull and wants romance and sex like on day two already and all I want is to have a pet snake.” a smirk appeared on your face as my laugh burst out at your statement.
“So you think I’m dull?” I tried to hold back my laugh and tried to appear really serious and horribly offended.
“No. You’re different.” you rested your chin in your palm, dreamily gazing at me.
“Am I?” I looked into your eyes; they reminded me of late autumn leaves that had already fallen to the muddy ground. Somehow this colour was able to calm me down, just as autumn reassures nature that it is time to rest and gather strength for the coming year. It gave hope.
“Yeah, there’re reasons why you are my best friend and not somebody else.”
“It’s an honour to be able to meet your ridiculously high expectations.” I drank the last bits of my whiskey.
“I just said that I don't have high standards, you bastard.” then finally you laughed with me.
The uneasy emotions slowly softened in me. Although another deep, rather aching feeling switched place with it, because my next question with a fairly clear answer was:
“You said ‘at the moment’. What did you mean by that?”
You bit your lips in an unsure way. “Maybe. Maybe, and you didn’t hear me saying that, I’ll be able to feel something towards him.”
I acted fast so no other thoughts could distract me.
“Oh, don’t you say? That’s lovely.”
Your cheeks pinkened lightly, holding back badly a small smile.
“It’s time that someone finally can make you feel that way.”
“You mean…”
“Love, of course.” I closed my eyes and sighed, so that I didn’t have to watch you falling for someone else. “It must be nice, being in love.” Not for me. Or at least not in this reality. Because right now love is the thing that rips my heart out from its place.
“You’re really a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” you chuckled, probably trying to hide your shyness.
“Yes, I am. You know, at least one of us has to be.”
“Phff, I could never” you waved with your hand. “Feelings? What’s that? Never heard of it.”
We laughed beneath the starless night sky. It wasn’t comfortable to sit on the roof’s rough surface after a while, so I moved a little further to find a better position. When I found it our shoulders touched, but you didn’t move away. The fact gave me a warm feeling, I could almost feel butterflies rise in my stomach. What a vain sensation.
“Buuut…” you added in a silky voice “If I may ask, what d’you think about ‘im?”
“Hmmm” I thought about it deeply. What was I really thinking about Lucifer? “Well, you’d make a great match, that’s sure.” I fidgeted with my glass “I’m just worried he might be a bad influence on you.”
“I am a bad influence.” you puffed out your chest proudly.
“Yes, but he is an even bigger one.”
“You talk about him as if he’s some delinquent.”
“No, I wasn’t trying to- I just don’t trust him and his friend group.” I explained.
“I think I know what you mean” you consented “But danger makes it more exciting.”
I rolled my eyes with a heavy sigh mockingly.
“Don’t worry about it, I still have you, remember?” you elbowed me in the side “You’re gonna take care of me, because you’re my guardian angel.”
I felt my cheeks redden at that.
“What a wicked demon I have to babysit…”
“C’me on, you love it.”
Love.
“So, you’re not gonna write him back?”
The word echoed in my head for a time.
“He can wait. And I already left him on read, so he knows I’m not sleeping.”, you chuckled.
What does it really mean?
If love meant loving you in secret, if it meant you sitting beside me but still out of my reach, admiring everything about you that no words can describe, if love really was about aching after you, wanting to touch you, to be with you all the time so much that I think even eternity would be too short, if loving you wasn’t an allowed thing, then I have to say love is madness.
And my new plan was to go mad.