Better Left Unsaid
"Because you need me."
"Why the hell would I ever need someone like you?" His cry rings out in the frozen early morning air, piercing through the fog and haze I've been drifting in ever since this conversation began. The mist hovering over the pond seems to curl and lap at my jean-clad legs like a starving beast, icy air biting my skin through every minuscule hole and worn patch in my pants.
I want to scream something back at him. Spit something viscous and watch his face crumble as it settles into this dim Colorado morning, words not meant and feelings unsaid. But no. I'm sick of that. So sick.
"Because, when I look at you I don't see something that needs to be fixed."
The words are too big, giant barbed balls of lead that take more strength than I knew I had, to force out of my throat. Once they're out they just sort of hang there, suspended and bobbing, just swaying slightly in the shifting breeze.
His face betrays nothing, but then again it never does.
For some reason this gives me enough confidence to continue.
"I don't see something broken, I see a whole, but I also see someone just as fucked up as me." The words are coming easier now, every syllable coming a bit quicker than the last.
"And I need that, and I think, no I know, that you need that to. But not because it's an escape or a distraction or a FIX because... Because we need it. Because your the only one in this godforsaken town that gets it, and because you're the only person I've ever met who isn't boring." The words are pouring out now, gushing past my lips without any regret or second thoughts, just a cacophony of suppressed emotion and guilt and confessions finally taking some type of physical form.
"You say you like things boring Craig, but I think your full of SHIT. You don't like things boring, you like things PREDICTABLE. And we both know that I am the farthest thing from predictable, and that... THAT is why you need me."
The words stop just as abruptly as they had began. My lungs feel ragged and squeezed when I take a breath and I have to keep reminding myself that my body requires oxygen. There's a word hanging in the air now, a word that bears far too much meaning and weight and will probably never feel right to actually say. Not for awhile anyway.
But at least it's there.
At least I have that.
He's shaking now, just slightly, and I watch his tongue flick out to wet his bottom lip almost imperceptibly. Suddenly his legs seem to give out and he flops onto the ground without warning. He fumbles in his jacket pocket for a cigarette and his shaking is a bit more obvious when he's trying to get his fingers to cooperate.
By the time I've hunkered down and settled myself next to him he's already taking an unsteady drag on his Marlboro and we fall into an uneasy silence again.
"... You ok?" My question sounds alien in this almost unearthly quiet of the early morning.
"Didn't actually expect an answer." He says in loo of an explanation.
I nod slightly and breath in the crisp winter air mixing with the thin smoke slipping past his chapped pink lips.
I feel the strong temptation to lean in and place a chaste kiss against them but the gesture seems far too intimate in this setting. Far too meaningful. Although considering everything I've just said I suppose shit can't get much more meaningful right now.
"Why the fuck does it have to be you?"
I stand corrected.
"Out of all the people in this fucking town, why the fuck did it HAVE to be you?"
I watch him for a moment without expression, just thinking. I don't think often, not really. I act on impulse, on desire or hunger or lust or boredom; It's just how I live, it's how I SURVIVE. But now, in this moment, looking out onto the frozen pond in this icy February air at 4:30 in the morning, I really think.
"Maybe we're just making the best of a bad situation." It's barely a whisper and I know my heart shouldn't be able to beat as hard as it is now.
A test, everything is a test here in this icy wasteland. I feel it though, when the words leave my lips, the inaccuracies of the statement. They hang in the air, joining in with the other filthy words that have slithered out of my throat in drones.
He looks at me, actually turns 90 degrees and looks, and it's there in his eyes. It's everywhere, I realize, bobbing in the air with the others, lapping at my jean-clad legs along with the early morning fog, coursing along with my very life essence, that WORD. That disgusting, deprave, desperate, pathetic, AMAZING word is everywhere, and I'm suddenly drowning in it. He smiles at me and I smile back because, what else can I do?
His fingers are like ice when he carefully pushes them through the cracks in my own but I hold them like they are the only anchor keeping me glued to our frozen patch of dirt. I find gravity in this apathetic boy and his convenience store cigarettes, I find warmth in those frozen fingers between my own.
When I realize that we're both still smiling as we watch the dulled sun rise up over the painted-white horizon, I think for the first time, that maybe that word isn't as far off as I pretend it to be.
End
I worked on this drabble way longer then I should have OMG but to be fair I did write it on my iPod so it makes sense that it took awhile XD I was just thinking about crenny and the essence of how I perceive their relationship so I started this drabble thing and have been kinda working on it bit by bit whenever I'm bored and have time XD but yeah I just love writing their personalities and how I think they would be in a relationship (or whatever you wanna call it) so this is a little poem-esque thing about that. I promise I'm going to update my other crenny fanfic soon! I just need to get back to my keyboard DX but thank you guys for all of the wonderful reviews and fallows it means a lot and I can't wait to hear what you guys think about this and the newest chapter of 400 Lux!
-Maddy