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Just how badly could someone love?
How much would it hurt from the fall? Not only that, but how painful would the journey be?
The house is surprisingly quiet despite the sheer amount of life it holds. That’s what scares you: the silence. Loud, louder than any yelling from the couple downstairs could muster, than the shrill sound of your shower singing, than the joyous cheers of the adrenaline junkies chasing their new high.
You drag yourself into the bathroom to freshen up, the mundanity of the whole room seems dead. More so than before you had those rose-tinted glasses. Of which you pick up from your bedside table and put on. The world always seemed more colourful with them on, after all.
To escape from the dread hanging over your head, you head down to the anxiety ridder himself, your blanket. His thinly veiled calm disposition that’s laced with excitement quickly fades when he sees your gloom. He doesn’t push. Not at all.
Mateo just makes it very evident that he’s here for you, no matter how severe or how silly it may seem. You know it’s out of love, you know it’s because he cares so much, but right now it’s too much. He’s always tried to show you he loves you, even when he masks how stressed he himself is. Poorly, most of the time.
But this time, if it wasn’t you talking to him, no one would notice the slight shake in his voice, the quiver of his hands, the way he’s trying just a little too hard to smile. The inanimals look more than happy to see both you and Mateo at the same time. They look so excited they’re bouncing off the walls. In short, it’s too much. Way too much.
You let out a shaky sigh and get the inanimals to settle down with the help of their primary caretaker. Every time you’ve been caught up in any time of negativity or numbness, he’s always there to take care of you, to help you settle down. Has he ever felt like you were the inanimal? Needing to be taken care of, like you’re his responsibility.
The both of you settle on the couch and sit in the marinating polarising sensitivities; numbness and hypersensitivity. Both caused from thoughts flying a mile a minute. Both contain “Am I doing enough?” and leading to conclusions that parallel each other.
“I need to do more.”
“I want to do nothing.”
How badly could loving hurt?
How bad could it hurt when he wants to do nothing but give more while you feel like you should receive nothing?
Even as he’s shaking, even as he’s feeling buzzing in his head, he stands up. He walks towards the direction of the kitchen. He comes back with a box of whatever comfort snack and drink you had bought and kept in stock in the house, noticeably being catered to you and only you.
When he sets them next to you on the sofa, you barely glance at them. You’re looking at him the whole time, your expression solemn and somber with the care in your eyes dulled. Mateo gives you a smile, too forced again, silently dismissing whatever worries you reasonably have.
He watches as you drink the beverage he brought for you to calm you down. With the way his eyes bore into you, you’d think otherwise. It’s as if the harder he stares, the more he ensures he’s done a good job at caring.
How badly could it hurt, really?
You don't even notice the tears that well in your eyes, or the way you set down the drink, or the way you look away from him.
“You don’t need to try so hard to take care of me..”
“I have to; I love you.”
“I love you too but it hurts seeing you hurt like this.”