IV.

You scrounged your closet for a shirt, the muscles of your slim bare chest tense against the chilly air of night. I leaned against the doorframe. It wasn't normal, your door being open. I wanted to take advantage of it. The room smelled like you, musky and sweet. For awhile I stood there, trying to decide how that scent made me feel. I pretended to hate it, commenting about the bad body odor. You stopped, looked up and scowled at me.

Get out, you snapped.

I am out, I cleverly replied. You crossed the room to slam the door in my face. I flinched back. You'd clipped the tip of my nose, bashed the front of my toes. I started to yell out, caught myself. I didn't want you to know how hurt I really was. I stalked to my room, turned my stereo up loud and flopped onto my bed. I wanted everything to disappear into the notes. I waited for the pulsating beats to carry away the painful thoughts of you from my mind.

Mom came up a few minutes later. She told me to lower the volume of my music, offered up the phone. Otto had called. I turned my stereo off, took the phone, and mom left muttering under her breath. I didn't like the way she looked at me sometimes. She looked at you the same way. Otto talked, I listened. He raved about his new skateboarding tricks, complained about posers, boasted, and bravado-ed. I half-heartedly heard the things he had to say, gave him quick replies.

You ran into mom outside my door. I heard you say you were going out. She wanted to know where, but you wouldn't say. She didn't press it anymore. You always said she didn't care what you did so long as I was left safe and pure. I heard mom leave downstairs, thought you'd left as well. I replied to Otto, you opened my door and I watched you slip in, closing it behind you and leaning against it. You knew I was talking to Otto, you always knew when it was him, and made a face at the phone.

I mouthed to you to get out but you stuck your tongue out at me wandering about my room as I pretended I was trying to listen to Otto. You rifled through my CDs while eyeing me curiously. You were dressed in green pants, black steel-toed boots, and a ragged brown t-shirt. I hated the way you'd started dressing, but I could never tell you that. You never let the sand touch your bare feet anymore, never let the sun tan your chest. Your skin was paled now, not the dusty brown I'd known for so long. You paced about, reminded me of a caged tiger. You wanted me to hang up on Otto, I could tell. But I was mad at you, my toes ringing in my ears, not wanting me to forget how you'd treated me moments before.

You silently asked me what he wanted. After a moment, I shrugged. You smirked at me, pushing my hat over my eyes and sitting next to me. You should pay attention to your friends, you whispered, teasing me, your mouth close to my ear. Your breath tickled my skin and I lifted my shoulder up to cover the vulnerable spot, my face flushed. I gave you a dark look, I hoped it was filled with daggers that cut you deep.

Are you listening to me, Otto demanded in my ear. I stammered reply and you mouthed a no. I pushed you away but you barely budged, leaning back on my bed and watching me like a cat, amused.

I wanted to yell at you. I wanted to throw the phone at you, rip the grin from your face. My head was hot with frustration. I was your toy, for you to pick up and play with, to abuse, to toss away when you were bored, pick up again when you needed amusement. I gave you a look, I wanted to know what you were doing in my room.

I have to talk to you, you whispered.

I'm talking to Otto, I hissed, Go talk to your friends. You didn't say anything else, and I didn't miss the pain that spilled over your face. It was easily replaced with disconnected anger.

Whatever, you muttered tersely, pretending you didn't care. But I could feel it, that poison beating in your heart.

You left me alone in my room, Otto still in my ear. I wanted to be proud. It didn't bother me. I could hear you turn the key in your truck's ignition outside from my bedroom. I said goodbye to Otto. I found my headphones, plugged them into my stereo and slipped them over my ears. The ecstatic drums pushed the thoughts of you from my mind. The thoughts that threatened to damage my sanity. I wondered what you wanted to talk to me about.

I tried to wait up for you, but drifted to sleep whispering along with the song in my head.

I woke in the middle of the night gripped with panic that you were gone, that you were never coming back, you were lost forever. But I still wasn't surprised to find you sitting beside my bed on the floor flipping through one of my magazines. I wondered how long you'd been there. I felt like I knew you were there all along. I wondered if you were watching me sleep. You were still dressed in the clothes you wore out, your boots were gone. I slipped my headphones off, settled back on my pillow, my head turned to the side to look down at you.

You closed the magazine, held it thoughtfully between your hands, then tossed it lightly to the side. You leaned back heavily, resting your head against the edge of my mattress, squeezed your eyes shut. I was afraid to talk, afraid to move. I wanted to touch you, I thought you'd be mad if I did.

We were silent. I memorized your face again, the way your chest rose and fell, the way you grimaced through closed eyes as though pained. For the first time, I wondered if you were unhappy. My hand acted alone, reached out and curled against your neck, rest on your shoulder. Your eyes flickered open. I could feel your pulse just lightly. I could hear you breathing.

Am I sick, you asked softly, carefully taking my hand and pressing it to your forehead.

Yeah, I teased you, You're burning up.

You shifted then, turning your face to mine, still clutching my hand with your own. I wanted to pretend I didn't see the seriousness in your eyes, but I couldn't ignore the desperation I felt in your trembling form. I said nothing for a long time, my world crumbling around me from within.

No, I said quietly through the dark, trying to sound firm. You looked away, and I knew you were full of doubt. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. You held tight to my hand and I didn't protest.

I didn't want you to let go.