Touch Me Fall
[touch me I'm so beautiful, it's not worth it if you don't / so high watch me
stumble, if I fall, I will fall.]
She dropped her hand from her forehead in frustration and lifted her eyes
heavenwards. Her eyes met with a slightly stained white ceiling, plaster starting to peel
from the moisture the bathroom always held. She was frustrated with herself, wallowing in
self-pity on the cold tiled floor, and she was trying not to think of him. She knew he
could never think of her like that. He was too above her, too popular. Too smart and kind
and lovable. She was walking headfirst into a future of hurt and torment.
Ugh! She wanted to scream in frustration. She was angry at herself, angry at him too. But she had no right to be angry with him. His actions mirrored who he was. Could he help it that he was friendly, charming even? But was it her fault that a simple gesture of consideration had been so special to her?
Any small amount of affection was foreign to her, and had been since she was little. She could still recall vague flashes of her mother and father, warm faces, sparkling eyes. They had loved her, she knew, but they were no longer around to give her a hug, a loving smile. She had grown up with her grandparents and her sister, a sister who hadn't said one kind word to her for as long as she could remember. Petunia and her stuck up superior ways. Too much makeup and nothing solid in her head when guys were present. And her grandmother and grandfather, who treated her with an edge of steel coldness, never letting her close enough for her to feel in any way connected to them. She had never known the reason for their icy blind spot in her direction.
And now, because of this desert of love that had been her childhood, she was falling for the first boy that had paid her any attention.
The tears had started to dry on her burning cheeks, but her insides were no calmer than they were an hour and a half ago. She brushed her thick red hair from her face. Her knees were pressed to her chest and she proceeded to knock her forehead on them repeatedly. Stop it. Forget him. Love is not your friend. He will never care about you; you're setting yourself up for a fall.
But she was already falling. His face, smooth olive skin, black tousled hair, crowding her thoughts. Get out of my head.
It had all started with a Slytherin, steel dark eyes and greasy skin, taunting her, telling her she was a loner, worthless, a mudblood, words not new to her. But he had stood up for her, and that had been a first. No one had ever done that, taken any notice, answered back for her. She had always been by herself, and she had somehow managed to convince herself that that was how she wanted it. It was better to immerse herself in books, block out the world, separate herself from the people surrounding her. Enough distance away from the scary things called feelings. After her first year here people had taken the hint and left her alone. It had never crossed her mind that she was the one that had pushed them away. She had always thought that they were the ones that wanted nothing to do with her.
She turned her head slightly so her cheek rested on her bent knees. Her arms wrapped around her calves and she closed her bright green eyes, stinging from spent tears, her lids blocking out the cold bare walls that sent shivers of loneliness through her body.
So for two years she had kept to herself and had become hardened to the fact that she had to do everything alone. Why had he stood up for her when no one before him had bothered? Why did he even care what she did? How she felt? She had turned to face him. He had grinned at her from the seat he occupied behind her, and as he rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, she had stared back in shock. The look on her face reached his eyes and he had pulled back, uneasy, and turned away. Away from her, towards his friends, and she was forgotten again.
So simple. A kind word, a smile, a touch. So, so simple. But she now felt the effect washing through her in waves. Tumbling and dunking her set ways of living, of thinking. She now sat on the tiles in a deserted bathroom trying to force herself to detach and forget. He had acted out of kindness alone. There was no hidden meaning, no undertones of something deeper.
But she was starving for love and she had already blown it way out of proportion.
***
When she stepped quietly through the portrait hole and into the common room her eyes immediately fell upon him, surrounded as always. His friends talking to him and a following of girls batting their eyelashes and giggling stupidly. As she walked past and started up the stairs to her dorm she took note that her had failed to look at her, failed to notice. Nothing had changed. She was again alone and everyone was ignoring her just like before. Even him.
She was pleased in her head. She felt vulnerable and scared that a single action could throw her insides in turmoil, out of her control. And she had always been in control of her thoughts, her life, her actions. She was afraid that anymore attention upon herself inflicted by his deep brown eyes would send her spinning, spinning and propelling away from reality. And when she would finally come to her senses - perhaps when it became clear that she was nothing more to him than a face in the crowd - she would be so far above the ground that falling back to Earth would undoubtedly break more than bones. So it was good that nothing had changed. Stop it before it begins, her head repeated.
But of course her heart gave a different response. She was disappointed and lonely again. Her stomach dropping out, her heart somehow emptier, a nagging voice whispering she was indeed nothing. For who had ever given her reason to doubt that? He had. But it had been a one off. It had been great and thoroughly confusing while it lasted, but it had now passed.
She curled up into a fetal position in bed with mixed feelings, her head and heart arguing. Bitter disappointment from her heart and the voice of reason from her head, saying change was bad and this returned lack of attention was for the best. You can't get hurt if no one affects you. But she was already hurting. This deserted zone around her causing loneliness to eat away at her soul.
***
She slipped silently into a seat in the Great Hall the next morning and concentrated on her oatmeal. It was only when she lifted her head, her gaze focusing across the table, did she notice him. Him, staring evenly at her, the spoon in his hand forgotten. She caught a warm twinkle in his eye when he realised she had caught him looking. A covering of unease settled through her.
"Hey." It was said simply, but she gave a little choke, a lump forming in her throat. Why was he doing this to her? Tempting her with something she knew she could never have, knew he would never give.
After several long moments of silence she heard herself answering back, her voice distant to her own ears, her tone wavering slightly. "Hey."
That smile again. She felt herself falling, slipping, sliding off a suddenly oily chair. Down, down. Hitting the floor with a loud thud in her mind. In someway she had managed to stay seated, but it certainly felt like her insides were no longer locked inside her. They had spread around her feet, covering the polished floor.
She caught herself smiling back. You're going to get hurt. You're making this out to be more than it is. That voice again, but she didn't care. Screw it all.
She needed this.
~Sarvi 21/1/01.
What do you think? I guess it was okay.
I don't know if I want to continue it, it might be better staying as a short story.
I'll wait and see the response I get for it... (hint, hint, review :)
Lyric and title credit to Indigo Girls, 'touch me fall'.