Sometimes, when she's around, it's petals that flutter against his rib cage— the wings of downy-feathered birds that caress his throat in airy titters, elated flutters during the rare moments when he draws a brilliant laugh from her lips.
Sometimes, when she's not around, it's the thorns that tear at the seams of his lungs; each breath is drawn ragged as what he feels is swallowed up by the cold abyss of dread and the shadow in her smile.
"Neil... " Hazel eyes turn away from him, a white-tailed doe disappearing, frighted, into the undergrowth. His heart clenches then shakes, the petals trembling beneath his ribs. The hope that clings to his breath is drawn in the the barest sips, yet dread locks down his chest and dares him not to breathe. Hickory locks brush her shoulders as she shakes her head, once, twice.
"I'm... I'm sorry Neil, I can't." The petals quiver in his chest, then begin to fall in cascades— an autumn that comes and begins to bear thorns. He feels the pricks in his throat, the walls squeezed too tight to breathe. Her lips tighten, pulled thin in distress. "I know I don't say this but— you're my best friend, Neil; I want you to know that. It's just, I can't-..."
"No," and he surprises himself; his words come even and soft and unperturbed, even as thorns dig needle-thin fangs into his neck. "Eva, geez! You're a professional, aren't ya?" his lips pull into a wry smile and he talks quickly now, like it's the lead-up to a great big punchline. Behind his glasses, his eyes are squeezing shut; pushing back tears. "Oh man, that dare was just killing me. Thirteen years! Can finally stick it to Brandon now, can't I? Guess he owes me a coke now, wonder if I can find his number, I'll definitely need to call him back up..."
"Neil!" There's the noise that she makes when she just doesn't know what to feel, and he quiets down immediately as she turns away from him, burying the heel of her palms into her face. "Neil, please... Just..."
There's silence, and he knows she's trying to gather her thoughts into words. A beat more before he speaks, dull; the flushed lilt to his voice gone. "It's okay." He musters up a smile, even though there's no one looking. "Forget I said anything, please." He shuffles back a few steps, turning.
He's stopped by her voice.
"Neil, no-... I—" Her voice wavers and she seems crushed, uncertain. The thorns bloom in his throat. "I'm sorry. I... please don't let this get between us, okay? I don't want..." she falls silent again.
He doesn't need to hear more. "Yeah."
It's not until he's out of sight that he collapses against a wall, tearing the glasses from his face. He buries his tears in his hands, shoulders shaking, the thorns wracked by the torrents of his sobs.