Xirysa Says: Sorry for the delay, folks. School's killing me… And I lost the notebook I had this written in. But I found it again. Underneath my bed. XD So sorry for the delay. Please don't kill me! Takes place after the "My André!" confession/realization. I don't know if anyone has realized it yet, but most of the chapters have something related to a previous one... Guess what this one is?

J is for Jagged

He stares at the broken wine glass before him, eyes clouded over in an alcoholic stupor.

It is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen, he thinks.

The stem of the glass is cracked once in the middle and again where it meets the base, which is decorated with a series of hairline fractures, pale white against the darkness of the hardwood floor. Splinters of glass surround the object from whence they came, some pieces lodged in the floor from the impact of collision.

But perhaps the thing he finds most enchanting bout the object before him is the jagged pattern winds its way over the edges of the head of the glass, effectively splitting it in two.

Mesmerized by it, he continues to stare at the broken glass. Dark burgundy droplets cling to the smooth inside, and he can still see the smudge his lips have left on the clear surface.

Now sitting on his knees, he slowly reaches a hand forward and brushes his hand over the jagged edges of the glass. Despite his intoxicated state, he is sober enough to know what the glass reminds him of.

The way the two halves of the head—no, the entire body of the glass!—seem to fit together even when separated. So unlike his relationship with the one person that was more important to him than life itself. The one person he was losing his sight for. The one person he would willingly give his life for without a second thought.

You are the light and I am the shadow, a bond that can never be broken.

A shadow cannot exist without its light. Yet something had happened, and it caused the once bright light to flicker and the shadow to dwindle away.

It seemed, though, that the light was burning fiercely once more. After all, she had said that he was forgiven, didn't he? That the "Incident," as they called it, was behind them and should be forgotten?

Though it was true that they could once again be found in each other's company, laughing and talking like they used to. But their once solid friendship, like the wine glass, now lies in jagged pieces.

Cupping one hand, he begins to pick up the pieces. He doesn't notice that he has cut his index finger on one of the sharp edges until he feels the blood slowly ripping down his hand. Pausing in his work, he observes the wound.

Though it is not deep, the cut is wide, and he winces slightly when he sees a small splinter of glass embedded into his finger. Depositing the remaining pieces of glass in a small heap in front of him, he simply stares at the wound, oblivious to everything else. Where there should be pain, he feels nothing but a dull emptiness. A drop of alcohol that lingered on the glass slides into the gash, but it stings for only a moment. He feels another stinging behind his eyes and doesn't even try to make it stop.

Without warning, the tears begin to trace silent paths down his cheeks, dripping down his nose and splattering the floor or getting caught in his thick curls. He does not know why he is crying, but he's been holding the tears for so long and they just need to be gone…

How long he sits there he does not know. Only when he hears a familiar voice—oh, why that voice?—calling his name does he stir. He looks up just as she, of all people, walks into the room. She looks from his tearstained face to the remnants of the wine glass on the floor. Her gaze lands on his hand and she sighs.

She looks at him exasperatedly. "What did you do now, André?" Peering down at his face, her eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. "You're drunk."

It sounds more like a question than a statement.

Grabbing his elbow, she pulls him up and takes his rather large hand in her rather small ones and examines the cut. She squints and meticulously picks at the wound and smiles triumphantly when she pulls out the piece of glass. "Got it! Nasty little thing, though. Must have hurt like hell." She tosses the piece onto the little pile and brings his hand closer to her face. "I wonder what happened, though…"

He finally responds. "It was nothing. Go on, I'll clean up." When she opens her mouth to talk back, he waves her out of the room and she complies, albeit very unwillingly.

Something has changed about their relationship, he thinks as she leaves the room. He could feel it, the way the air between them was no longer filled with the awkwardness that had separated them for so long. Picking up the pieces one by one, he finally takes the head of the glass and fits the two jagged edges together.

It looks so much more beautifu than before. So beautiful indeed.

Xirysa Says: I… Honestly don't know what happened there. Really, I don't. It was supposed to be more angst-y, actually. I haven't written angst in a very long time, though. Maybe that's why. Anyway, this was supposed to take place after the "My André!" confession of Oscar. Which would be why she approaches him so willingly. Alright, I know the chapter sucks. But I'm studying AP biology at the same time. Aerobic respiration, anaerobic, the Krebs cycle, ATP synthase… It's all blurring together in my smallish mind. Boy, was I smart when I signed up for four AP classes this year. Sure, I knew junior year was gonna be hard, but really! This is ridiculous… Ending that rant, letter K should be up relatively soon…

Up Next: The Letter "K": Knife