She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. All she wanted to do was cry. She looked out the window and across the street. A young mother and her baby were walking slowly along the sidewalk, the child teetering back and forth, the mother hovering her hands on either side of her child, ready to catch him if something happened. She watched the child sway this way and that, his mom just two steps behind.
Her focus was pulled away by the violent vibration of her phone in her pocket. When she had first sent that text to him, she didn't know if it would go through, seeing as how she hadn't talked to him in years and she wasn't sure if the number was the same. But once she had her phone in her hand, she was comforted by the familiar syntax of the text. She pulled on her shoes, grabbed her keys, and hurried out to meet him.
She left her car parked next to the curb, and timidly knocked on his door. A boy answered the boy. The boy she had gone on so many adventures with. The boy she had risked her life time and time again to save. The boy she had laughed with, cried with, shared a life with.
"My brother's upstairs," the boy said.
She stood there in the doorway, dumbfounded, but finally found her footing and nodded a quick thank you as she headed toward the stairs.
"It's the first door on your left!" the boy called after her.
At the top of the stairs, she straightened her shirt and quickly ran her fingers through her hair. Her heart was beating quickly, probably too quickly, and her breath was eluding her. In slow motion she opened the first door on the left.
The room was bigger than expected, with a floor to ceiling bookcase along one wall, and a fireplace and television on the opposite on. He was sitting in an old office chair, with papers strewn around the desk and on the floor, an open bar of chocolate balanced on the edge of the desk. He turned around and his eyes met hers for the first time in eight years.
She had always thought his eyes and hers were perfect together. He had deep blue eyes that never changed color. They were the same in every light, every season, and every color he wore. A beautiful blue that you could drown in if you weren't careful. Her eyes were the perfect mix of blue and brown, but sometimes they looked green. Her eyes were soft, kinder than most people would expect. And in this moment, they were slowly filling with tears.
"I'm so happy to see you," he confessed, standing to greet her.
He was now several inches taller than her, his hair grown out to a length a little too long but styled in a way that it was kind of hard to tell. He held himself with a quiet confidence, something she had always admired about him. He didn't have on any shoes, but he had on a belt and his shirt was tucked in. He looked so much unlike the boy she had met all those years ago, but his voice was the same.
His voice brought back memories of dark rooms and broken bones. It was kind and soft, matching his personality perfectly, but it had an edge to it. An edge of intelligence. It was a voice that could switch from being filled with pride to being filled with pain in an instant. It was the same voice she had heard when she was thirteen, lying alone in that hospital bed, lost in a literal world of her own. It was the same voice she heard through the sirens and screaming, as the pain seared through her foot and her body flirted with the possibility of unconsciousness. It was the same voice she had heard begging her to stay, assuring her that everything would be okay.
A tear slid down her cheek. His eyes flashed concern, and he held out his hand to her. She took it, wrapping both shaking hands around it, and she felt the floor slip away. He stumbled as he caught her, but he helped her to the couch, and held her as she shook and screamed and fought for air. He threaded his fingers around her hair, which was longer than he thought it would be.
Moment after moment passed. Air returned to her lungs. His hand left her hair and found her leg. She looked up at him as he looked down at her and their perfect eyes once again locked. She was glad this man was her friend.