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Cirrus looks out at the clouds, his namesake, as their wispy edges seem to lick at every corner of the sky. It’s bright, breathtaking. And he can’t blame them for trying to cover such a pretty view for themselves. A gentle wind brushes against his back, as if it was a gentle push forward, coaxing a step towards the warming welkin.
He reflects and blinks slowly, catching glimpses of his sky. Between the second of the darkness of shut eyes and the crack of light splitting it apart, he can see him. He’s everywhere. Just like the dull ache in his heart and the throbbing in his head. It’s been like this for so long that Cirrus can’t remember what silence was like.
He hung onto every bitter word and rejection. Every sound of distaste and every false sigh of acceptance. Even when no sound came from him, Cirrus’s ears burned with the deafening, irregular beat of that fleshy wad of muscle tissue in his own chest. He’s embarrassingly committed every detail to memory for reasons he can’t explain to himself in words he’s never learned how to feel.
The dull shine in Skylar’s eyes that they share. The straight, often messy, bangs that just barely hang beneath his glasses. The misleading smiles that just barely crinkle the corners of his eyes. He closes his eyes again to catch another peek. They regretfully open again.
The sun begins its gentle dip into the horizon. Bright blue fading into a pinkish hue not too dissimilar from the one in the blonde’s eyes. A gentle, heart-wrenching laugh fizzles into existence. Soft, deep, and empty. He’d love to look down, to grasp the concept of solid ground beneath his feet. But like astronauts and delusional theorists, he yearns to reach upwards. To fly and be consumed by the disappearing blue sky. As if it hasn’t already swallowed him whole.
In that moment, he remembers their last time speaking. Another, final, flare up of heated words and mistakes. They had gotten so far only to trip over each other’s feet and think it was intentional. You couldn’t even call it a misunderstanding. It was a direct refusal. Not something he wasn’t used to, but simply shocking. It’s always been this way with them. A step or two forward followed by a tumble back after the slightest trigger.
“I don’t want to see you again.” The brunette’s voice echoed in Cirrus’s head like it did in that room.
No matter what empty promises they made, they always found some way to break them. To find a convenient loophole that led them back to each other. But this was, is, different. His voice was even with cracks simmering below the surface like he was holding back the flush of undeniable feelings that flooded them both. This was different from the outbursts of anger or tease. It was serious.
“Get out. Now. Don’t even say anything. I can’t stand your voice right now.”
Cirrus couldn’t even register what was happening at that moment. Shock, hurt, and confusion swirling with his pre-existing emotions. He couldn’t sputter a word, sentimental or stupid, back.
“If you talk to me again I will-“
The memory cuts off at that moment when a bird passes overhead. It squawks and the flinch it elicits nearly knocks Cirrus off his feet. His breath comes out in a ragged gasp as if he had been holding it for a while. He felt warmth from something other than the fading sunlight and touched his cheek, tears. How strange. His eyes follow the bird as it shrinks with distance. He notices the gradient has lessened as the pink begins to overtake that lovely color he’s unknowingly connected to *him*. How long has he been standing here? It feels like forever. His feet are tired and it’s beginning to cool off. So Cirrus turns around and walks away, wiping whatever liquids that fell from his eyes. He couldn’t take the sky for himself today.
He passes someone in the stairway. He passes many people in the halls, but one stood out. His face still wearing that contorted, pained expression from three nights ago. And suddenly Cirrus can’t close his eyes without seeing those sad, glossy eyes and trembling lip with brows furrowed with a violent intensity. There’s a mumble he didn’t catch as he walked past, keeping his promises for once.
It’s not until the next day when Cirrus feels like he can breathe again, looking out at the pure sky. The clouds aren’t there anymore but he doesn’t mind. He reaches one hand out, as if he was feeling the weight of the air. It beckoned him to walk on it, to float and be its clouds. A humble replacement that could treat him better than home, than school, than his friends, than him. He smiles softly and it’s silent for the first time in 4 days.
He doesn’t hear the erratic stir in his chest. He doesn’t hear the echoes of those words that fermented themselves in his mind. He doesn’t hear a gust of wind, a bird’s cries, or the sound of steps coming up.
He retracts the one arm and then spreads both wide, as if waiting for an embrace. His soft, broken smile doesn’t fade as he takes a deep breath of a sky he’s always longed for.
Skylar opens the door to the roof of the school, panting as he stumbles past the last few steps. There’s no one there.
Just the empty sky.