Our Baggage

Why did you change?

- November 22nd

9:40 pm

I lied awake, tireless, my thoughts raging rampantly. What the hell is wrong with me? The same question played over and over again in my mind. Of all people…of all people! I dug my palms into my eyes to try and dry the wetness there.

I am such an idiot.

Yes…yes you are, my conscience interjected. Ugh! I didn't have time for him. Yeah, well who else are you going to talk to? Yourself? The sarcastic bastard. You aren't even trying to figure out your next move, are you? All you're doing is lying here bitching and moaning over your mistake.

Shut up, I answered. I don't feel like dealing with you right now.

Well shit, then when? You didn't want to deal with me when you were with Paul earlier either. When are you going to stop running from yourself and your emotions and just accept them?

Stop talking to me.

How many times do we have to go over this Seth? I am you! If you want me to stop talking to you then go lie in a ditch and die somewhere. I clenched my teeth. "Just leave me alone!" I growled aloud.

Accept it. "Accept what?! What the hell do you want me to accept? I will gladly do so if you will stop talking to me."

You know what I—what we want to accept, but you just won't allow yourself to do so…You've known what it was since we first moved here from the Reservation. You've known what it was since we were young. It has only amplified itself more clearly when Collin left you and you put yourself back together… "Stop talking, right now." You didn't put them together correctly. You're missing a few pieces…a few important pieces that—

"Shut up! I don't want to think about this!" When then?! When will you want to think about it? When will you finally accept the fact that you are damaged…damnit, we are damaged. Why aren't you trying to fix us?!

I sat up straight. I didn't want to hear any more of this. What did he—I—know about me? Ugh. I needed a distraction. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this. I looked over to my clock. Paul will be here in a few minutes. I contemplated my situation.

I could go with him, but should I really. What good would it do? Clearly he is nothing more than a bad omen, if what had happened was any indication. But it was not a strong enough indication I suppose. He interrupted again supposedly already knowing what I had decided to do. I growled internally at myself, but otherwise I said nothing at all.

Paul's presence brought about bad things I knew, but in the time that Leah had stormed off and left up until now; sometime between those hours I had decided that I wanted to take my turn. The worse that could possibly happen has already happened. I reasoned with myself. What more could possibly go wrong?

Normally when characters in movies says that line it is usually followed by them being stricken by lightning or something similar, but honestly, nothing would have been worse than being slapped by her again. That hurt more than anything I had ever felt in my life. I would get beat up a thousand times by them! and even then the pain would not come close to the pain I felt only hours ago.

I needed the distraction from all of this, and since Paul was coming, why not take the occasion to not think for a little while, however short-lived it maybe.

I went and got ready—not really though. I only changed my school shirt and khakis into a plain black t-shirt and some dark blue denim jeans. It took me all of five minutes to do that and freshen up a little bit.

I wasn't sure if Mom and Dad were asleep or not. Chances were they were awake and restless just as I was. I wasn't planning on sneaking out though. If they saw me, then they saw me. I didn't care. However, they were not in the dining room, living room, or kitchen when I checked.

Good. Then I don't have to deal with any of their questions or concerns.

I grabbed my jacket and scarf and I went outside, and waited for Paul on the porch. I figured that the night air would do me some good to help clear my head. I looked up at the moon in the sky. Paul was once the moon; solid and alone, I thought, and I was the sun; vibrant and accompanied by many. I sighed and stared down at the pebble between my legs. "…but now…I don't know…" I thought of Leah. "…am I alone now too…I just don't know…"

I played with the pebble until he came.

X:~/~:X

- 10:20 pm

He finally pulled up twenty minutes later, but I really hadn't noticed. My time with that pebble and my thoughts made it seem as though only five minutes had passed.

I got up and dusted myself off before moving to get into the passenger side. No words were spoken. Not until I noted what time it was on the radio. "You're late." I said, not even slightly enthused. I didn't really care, but I said it anyways.

"Git' over it." He rebutted. I just hn-ed and turned to stare out the window. I could see his reflection in the glass with the moon's scare light. His eyes were piercing calculative through the back of my head. I didn't like it, but I didn't say anything about it either. I just let him stare until he let go of whatever suspicions he had conjured in his head and finally decided to pull off.

The entire ride was accompanied in hollowed silence, only the natural sounds of breathing and the car resonating in the air resounded. I didn't make any attempts at conversation, and neither did he. I continued to stare forsakenly out of my window completely unaware of what else was happening around me.

"We here." He said suddenly through the forty-five minutes of utter stillness between us. I didn't speak. I didn't turn to face him. I just opened the door and stalked the quarter of a mile uphill. I don't even think I closed the door behind me, and when I heard the clank of two doors closing I figured that I didn't.

I reached the grassy hilltop. It was a lot larger than I had thought it was. I looked over to its protector. It was a lot taller than I had thought it was. I moved closer to it. I studied it for a short while until a compelling impulse to place my palm against its dry bark overtook me, and I did it.

It felt cold, and so old. Pieces of it crumbled against my palm the moment I touched it. It felt so old, but so alive. It wasn't centered at the top of the hill, but the ubiquitous branches and leaves sprouting from it covered the majority of the peak like a roof. Anywhere I moved I could not escape from underneath its leafy hood.

Slowly, I moved over to the edge of the hill. What I witnessed below I was certain that my imagination could never have imitated. It could never have imagined anything so breathtaking. The outlook of the city shrouded in darkness, in humble tranquility, its only source of lighting being the tall building's reflective glare of glimmering stars and the solidary fluorescent moon. Everywhere I turned the sight was stunning. The expansion of this beauty went further than my eyes could see, covering every direction in its totality, not an inch untouched by the nights splendorous grandeur.

I heard Paul's subtle breath behind me. However, he still did not speak. I turned and faced him, noting him leaning against the tree, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes did not seem to acknowledge mine, but instead his consideration was given to the same majestic darkness that seized my own attention.

I turned back to the city and sighed before deciding to sit down and continue enjoying it. "I use ta' come up here a lot," he suddenly said. I faced him again. "When I was a sophomore…I came up here a lot." I could tell that his mind was elsewhere with the way his eyes continued to look aimlessly into splendiferous darkness.

I expected to hear more words from him, more of him lost in his nostalgia, but I didn't. He didn't say anything after that. I noticed how his eyes began to glisten, almost as though sheened by tears, but they weren't. It was something else. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't think he was going to cry. He didn't.

"Wha'?" His brows furrowed. I guess I was staring for too long. Whatever. "Why you always starin' at me?" I didn't answer, and he didn't try to make me when I, instead, turned back and faced the darkened city again.

Silence had fallen upon us once more, until, softly, I started "…what—"

"What's wrong witchu?" He asked me all of a sudden. "You ain't said nothin' since we left…" I turned to him, but again, his eyes did not reach my own; still lost in nostalgia. His voice was soft—not soft, but gentle—no not gentle either…it was…it was… "It ain't like you." His eyes finally reached mine, and though I was upset, though I was beyond upset, I was startled. I could not deny what I knew I saw in his eyes, what I understood was there. His voice…it was not soft, nor was it gentle, but it was coarse by concern. I didn't understand why. It was so out of his character. He tore his eyes from mine. "…usually you askin' a thousand an' one damn questions an' won't shut the hell up."

I could not prevent the smirk that curved my lips, and again I turned away from him. "I was just about to ask you a question, but then you went and interrupted me…I was going to ask what it was that I should call you since, apparently, 'Paul' is not your actual name."

I waited for him to answer, and assumed that his silence was him contemplating if he would even answer at all. But he did. "Com'ere," was his answer.

"What," was my swift reply. But it was not as swift as my neck was, which crooked on my shoulders so that he could witness my dumbfounded expression. I was completely caught off guard. His brows furrowed again.

"I said com'ere." He growled, frustrated. His frustration was feigned. That much I could tell. Even still my heart skipped. I was reluctant, but I rose up and I moved closer to him. I sat in front of him, the gap between us shortened to about five feet, and I turned my body so that I faced him.

I looked up at him in expectancy. "So?" I waited. I waited…and I waited still until, "Are you going to answer my question or not?" I inquired after he had still not replied. He made a noise that I could not describe. I traced his movements as he sat down in front of me with his back leaning against the tree.

His eyes, which had closed, opened. "Answer my question first, an' den I'll answer yours." He finally responded.

I felt my brows crease. What the hell was the difference? "What difference does it make whose question is answered first?" I retorted.

"Then whatchu waitin' for? Talk."

I gritted my teeth. "…Fine. It doesn't matter." I submitted. My eyes shifted elsewhere as all that had happened recurred in my mind. And even when I did begin speaking they remained aimless in their hunt for something unknown; aimlessly wandering across the blades of grass between my knuckles, or the tree behind him, or the imminent night skies that surrounded us. "To make a long story short, my sister and I had a disagreement…about someone," I rubbed my fingers together against the grass timidly, "…and she left. She hasn't been back since six this evening." I tried sounding nonchalant and said, "That's it." I said it rather coolly if I say so myself.

He made another noise in the back of his throat that I could not describe. "…That's it," he mimicked nonchalant. My eyes cut to him and a meek gasp penetrated my lips. He was mocking me. "Wha'? You da' one who said it like tha'…like it ain't matter to you." What the fuck? He was really beginning to piss me off. I wasn't in the mood for this nonsense.

"It does." I corrected, though this time my voice didn't portray that same "cool guy" effect like last time. This time it sounded like I was whining, and I cringed internally at my own vocal betrayal.

"Don't say it like tha' 'den? If you care 'den act like it. Jus' 'cuz you say shit like tha' don't make it better." I didn't need this. I didn't need a fucking lecture from him. Especially, not him! He was the reason Leah left in the first place. He was the last fucking person on the face of this Earth that should ever be giving me a goddamn lecture.

My hands balled into tight fists, and I felt my countenance strain into what felt like a glare, but it probably wasn't. His face however was skewed into an evident glare. There was no question about its fiery. I assumed he noted how my body tensed, because then he asked: "Whatchu bouta do? You gon' hit me?" I wanted to. I really wanted to. It was his fault she left, and I wanted to hurt him so badly for it.

But I couldn't. I couldn't even if I had the strength to win in a fight against him. I couldn't hit him, or anyone else. It wasn't in my nature to do, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I buried my anger and forced my fists loose, and I looked away from him, my eyes still darkened in anguish.

"I hate you." I whispered somberly.

"…So…So wha'? I don't give two shits if ya hate me…You ain't 'da only one." I was sure I wasn't. If he made other people this angry I'm certain there were many who hated him just as much as I did right now. Tears began to swell I was so fucking pissed. I was never so mad in my life. His voice was so "whatever" when he spoke. I just wanted to hurt him. "…Who was it?" His voice changed, but hearing it still made me upset.

A tearful sniffle slipped passed my lips. I balled my fist again in a vain attempt to prevent anymore sobs from escaping. It didn't make a difference. They still did. "Who was who?" I felt so weak crying in front of him like this.

It wasn't just because of him though, but many things. How many things have gone wrong today? Too many. I lost my two best friends in one day! I lost both of them! And here he was trying to lecture me when it was his fault Leah left in the first place. I hated him so much!

"The one ya'll was fightin' about." I didn't answer him. I wiped my face with the back of my hand when I felt my first tear fall. I wasn't going to answer him. What did it matter if I had? What would it change? He wouldn't care either way, so why even bother? I figured my energy would be better spent on recollecting myself and concentrated on regulating my breathing and drying my tears.

I heard him scoff. "Whatever…you ain't gotta tell me." I wanted to scoff right back at him, but I didn't. I knew it wouldn't matter. I knew he wouldn't care, and I turned to him again, half-expecting his face to be skewed in anger, but it wasn't. His expression was in fact emotionless, but his eyes…his eyes, the feeling I got when I looked into his eyes I could not explain. Was it shock? Was it anger? I didn't know what it was. But his eyes seemed to gleam with the same concern that his voice held earlier. It seemed so out of his character.

I recomposed myself, and we sat there in another silent spell. This silence was ongoing, but it was to be expected being around him. We sat, engulfed in our own taciturnity. I managed to calm myself completely in my sullen quietness. I released my animosities, and centered myself.

I heaved one more heavy breath. "Are you going to answer my question now?" I asked softly. His amber eyes scanned over me before settling on something else in the distance.

"My name is Paul." He answered simply.

"Then why'd you say it wasn't?"

"…My name is Paul," he reiterated as if I didn't hear the nonsense the first time. I did. I heard it.

I heaved another dense breath. I couldn't understand it. I just couldn't, but I wasn't going to be upset about it, not anymore. I could have screamed at him, but what good would it have done? No good. It would not have done anything at all. Instead I waited. Not for anything in particular. I didn't expect him to say anything more. I didn't expect him to explain himself. He didn't. I didn't even know if I wanted to hear it. So I waited. Then, abrupt in the manner of thought, I began to speak the words that began to come to mind, all of them.

"Why are you so difficult? Why can't I just get you? Why can't I understand you? Why won't you let me?" I met his gaze. "I can't figure it out? I wreck my brain trying to understand, but I can't. You're too much. This," I stared purposeless at nothing, visions of everything protruding to the front of my mine, "…all of this chaos swarming my life is just too much. I thought I could handle all of it, I really believed I could, but then things got worse and spiraled out of control, and I didn't—don't know what to do about it, not any of it." Then I trained my gaze back onto him. "Then you…when I think I finally get you, you go and do or say something to prove that, I in fact, don't." I shook my head. "And I don't think I will…so I give up. I quit. What else can I do? I've exhausted everything I could think of...so nothing. There is nothing more I can do…I quit."

That was it. That's all I had to say. Then we sat shrouded in our cryptic silence staring at nothing.

"I seen you around…before you was gone be my 'tutor'…before all this, I saw you." I focused on him and his words when he spoke. It would have been a lie if I said I wasn't surprised by the statement, because I was. "Ya might not've seen me, but tha's pro'lly 'cuz you was avoidin' me." I was.

I thought I saw a smirk tugging at one side of his lips. "Every time I saw you though, you was smilin', but'chu ain't ev'a show ya teeth…It ain't look natural…It look like it hurt, but'cha kept doin' it anyways. I ain't get it…not at first, but 'den I finally realized why ya smiled like tha'. Why you ain't eva look comfortable smilin'..." He paused, and I waited for him to finish, intrigue etched into my features. "…I realized tha' you did it 'cuz you don't know wha' it means ta be yo'self. Ya just adapted ta whoever was around you, but nev'a ta' yoself."

"What does that mean?"

He sighed a bothersome sigh and glared right into my eyes. "I jus' said it. Ya don't know how ta be ya'self."

My eyes scanned over him. He looked irritated with the way his forehead dented and his brows knitted together, and for some reason it made me smile. His glare dissolved almost suddenly, and his expression revealed a prominent anxiety as though he were suddenly uncomfortable. I don't know why he looked so abruptly anxious, but I didn't make a big ordeal about it. After all, I quit. "See, that's what I mean. Even if you say things clearly I still don't understand you."

His eyes darted away from me. "You really startin' ta irritate me." He snarled under his breath. I nearly rolled my eyes. I continued to smile. His eyes cut to me before swiftly looking elsewhere. "Back 'den when I asked you yo' name, you told me."

"Yeah. I told you what my name was—is."

"I believed you 'cuz I thought ya knew." My eyes crossed. What was that supposed to mean? "I said it ta myself ta remember it, but then I found out ya really didn't know it." I was completely lost. What in the hell is he talking about? "…an' since then I ain't eva called you by tha' name, 'cuz it ain't yours."

"Oookay…If it isn't mine, then whose is it?"

"Ya don't know how ta be yourself, so tha' name belongs ta anybody who made you lik' you are. You ain't you, ya jus' tha' work of somebody else." That was…kind of deep coming from him.

"Uh…so," I cleared my throat. "…what?" I was still confused.

His gazed settled on me from the corner of his eye, but it did not last for long and he looked away. "Like I said earlier…until you can speak my language, ya won't understand." I made a demurred noise and bowed my head to the grass between my legs. "…ya will eventually though…" he added, and then finished, "but it ain't gone be ta'night."

I hummed, oddly contented. I shifted my position so that my back faced him now, and I was staring out over the town below. I sat so the soles of my shoes touched on another, almost in a loose Indian-style. It wasn't a common way for me to sit, but I noticed that I was most relaxed when I did.

I felt…strangely at ease at that moment, but I was happy. It was an indescribable happy because I didn't know where it came from. Perhaps it came from me giving up on trying understanding Paul, or maybe it came from that he thought I will one day eventually understand him. Or perhaps it was something else completely. I didn't know. All I knew was that it was a strange feeling, but I liked it. I liked it a lot, but could not force back the smile that pinched the edges of my lips.

I had completely forgotten about Embry, and even Leah. I don't know if that was a good thing or not, but it felt nice not to be hindered by those qualms. I grabbed my own feet like a child. I was so happy, and I rocked. I rocked as though I had no worries at all, and for the moment, knowing it would be short-lived, I lived it, and I cherished it, and I kept it. I remembered it, not ever wanting to forget it.

"Say Paul?" I called, curiously. My mouth was still only reiterating the thoughts that surged into my mind; unfiltered and unrestrained.

He grunted.

"Why'd you tell me that?" I was curious to know. He didn't have to, but I wondered if he felt as though he did. It was an uncanny possibility, but nonetheless a thought that came to my mind.

"'Cuz you asked."

I shook my head. "No. I don't mean the name thing," he grunted again. "I meant why did you tell me all that other stuff? That you've been watching me…and stuff?"

"…'cuz…you confessed somethin' ta me, so I did tha' same." I hummed pensively to myself, recalling my "confession" —or so he calls it—of trying to "figure him out." I didn't think it was a confession, more of a giving up speech.

"Oh. That wasn't meant to be a confession, what I said. I just…I don't know, didn't know what else to do, so I quit." He grunted a third time, and I groaned. "Can you stop doing that?" I didn't turn to gauge his expression, because ten times out of ten he was probably scowling at the back of my head. "We're having a conversation for once…at real one at least, so can you use words please?"

I waited a while for his reply before I received his indifferent scoff. "Ya' ain't neva ask." I craned my neck over my shoulder.

"Hm?" I answered quizzically.

"Tha's not a word." He smirked.

"Oh." My face dropped, but then another complacent smile shaped my lips when I saw him smirk.

"Tha's better." I laughed. Yes, Paul made me laugh. Not like earlier today when I was at his car laughing nervously. This time I was genuinely laughing, and again I noticed he looked away from me and his countenance sculpted itself back into its stoic default. "You said you ain't kno' what else ta' do, but you ain't neva jus' ask whatchu wanted ta' know."

My smile dissolved.

He was right. I didn't ask. I mean, well I guess I tried to before, but I never could get to the point and I would just "beat around the bush" as they say instead of outright asking him what I wanted to know.

"You would have told me if I had?"

"Don't kno'…maybe. Everybody kno' somethin' about me, but ain't nobody ever ask me shit." He paused for a moment, and he looked my way before he started again. "I kno' you was tryin' figure me out, everybody do; teachers, therapists, everybody.. But you the second one I tried gettin'."

My heart raced at his statement. "M-me?" My mind was literally sprinting a mile a minute. "W-w-why?"

"'Cuz…ya' said we were the same." I caught my gasp in the back of my throat and kept it there pressing against my esophagus until it died.

Really? So why didn't you ever ask me anything to try and figure me out? I waited for his response, and after a whole minute of deathly silence and me brainlessly staring at him, wide eyed, I realized I never actually asked the question out loud. I probably looked really stupid just staring at him, absorbed in my own reveries.

Since I probably already looked foolish, I took this time to recollect my bearings. "Well, why didn't you ever ask me anything if you were trying to figure me out?" He turned his attention back to me, his eyes uninterested, presumably because of my very late reply.

"Thought tha' conversation was over." I delayed responding, and watched him until he proceeded on to answer my question. "…I did," was his simple answer before he again looked somewhere other than me, more engrossedly. "I asked you yo name." He clarified.

"That's it? What did that tell you?"

"Yo name." He again answered simply, and I berated myself. Well duh, Seth! What else would it have told him. Ugh! Sometimes…just some freaking times. Ugh… "Then it told me wha' I jus' told you." I looked puzzled. I didn't have a mirror, but I know I did, because I was.

What he told me?...

…About you not know how to be yourself, my conscience reminded. Then I happily cleared my expression of its puzzlement…dumbass. I rolled my eyes at him, or me…whatever.

"And what exactly does, 'me not knowing what it means to be myself', tell you?"

"Tha' you not all the way ta'gether." I quirked a brow.

"And what does that mean?"

I noted him smirk again. I think that's the third, maybe fourth time tonight. "I guess you alright, huh? Ya won't shut up talkin' na'." My entire face brightened up, and I grinned. I guess I was. "It means you got baggage you ain't tryin' sort through."

As dumb as it was, my immediate thought was: That was actually a nice metaphor…but baggage? "Baggage?" I reiterated. "What kind of baggage?" He shrugged coolly.

"Don't kno'. Yo baggage. It's whatever you ain't tryin' deal wit'."

Abruptly, I felt my eyes broaden. "Something…I'm not trying to deal with?" His gaze answered my question, and rapidly, meticulously, his eyes skimmed over me, as though studying me before he turned away again. I heaved a troubled sigh. "I know," and I turned my head forward, my eyes downcast at nothing.

Something…I'm not trying to deal with. I groaned my nostalgia. I placed my hands on my thighs and squeezed them gently.

It's exactly what we were talking about earlier, my conscience returned. I would not have known that it was so obvious that even Paul figured it out by only asking us our name. Regardless though, it only supports where I stand: you have to sit down and deal with this issue. We've—

I don't want to. Not yet, I rebutted.

My conscience growled. We've stumbled and fallen over this far too many times as is, Seth. We've cried more times than any other person could bear, and that was all within the week of the incident. And even now we're—you're stumbling and crying over it. I don't want to anymore. We have to deal with this.

My grip tightened, and I rubbed back and forth in an attempt to alleviate the many unwanted oncoming memories. I don't…I don't want to. I can't…no, I won't. What if I—

"It's better ta' deal wit' it when you can handle it." I was startled by Paul's voice. "Rushin'… tha' don't work. Take yo time." I faced him. "Do it when you ready…ain't nobody rushin' you…" He delayed. "…nobody but yoself," his voice darkened.

I nodded, but he didn't see it. "R-right." I said instead, and looked away. Though his words were reassuring, it didn't completely stave away the anxiety that had already swelled inside of me.

Silence again. It was almost becoming an entirely new essence with how often it found itself between us. Then I heard Paul grunt, and reflexively I followed the sound. He was standing now.

"Let's go." He said when our eyes met. I stood as well, but I did not follow him.

"Paul." I called him again.

He grunted. I continued anyway.

"You know…what it means to be yourself…right?"

He grunted again.

"And you said I could ask you anything…right?" He didn't give an answer. "Then what…what was your baggage?"

Silence. Its sweet essence engulfed us once more.

"…let's go…"

…

… …

… … …

I followed him then, and we left.

X:~/~:X

-November 23rd

12:30 am

We pulled up to the front of my house, and he cut the engine.

I looked at him expectantly, bewildered. Why did he cut the engine? Was he not leaving? Did he want to come in?

His eyes, fear-provoking and solemn, met my gaze directly. "Look," he started, and I instantly felt chills bubbling over my skin. "Jus' 'cuz I did this fa' you don't mean shit gone change." Something hit the inside of my chest, and my eyes shifted, "so if you was hopin' we was gone be friends 'cuz of this—"

"I thought…we already were." I said softly. I did. I truly did. I didn't know we weren't. It kind of hurt a little bit. Maybe I put too much into this…whatever this is—was. This friendship…or lack thereof.

He snarled. "Wha' the fuck made'chu think tha'?"

I guess I don't have anyone anymore. I guess I have to face it all on my own. But I can't…I know I can't, because I don't know how. I thought…I thought… "A lot." I answered honestly. "Since…we're the same."

He snarled again. "…ya don't want ta' be like me…an' ya don't want ta' be my friend…I only fuck shit up, fa' everybody…"

I looked at him, but he was no longer focused on me as he had so attentively before, but I found his face reflecting from the windshield. His eyes had softened, and his solemn fiery was replaced with wistfulness. I read his expression clearly…

He was trying to protect me. I turned my face away from him.

"You asked me before...who my sister and I were arguing about," I paused, and I closed my eyes, "it was you, Paul."

"I said you ain't have ta' tell me…I already knew tha'."

"What?" I asked, surprised. His countenance revealed nothing I could discern. "How did you know?"

"I jus' told you…all I do is fuck shit up. It couldn've been about nobody else."

I looked down at the stick shift between us. "If…if all you do is mess things up, and if everything in my life is already tore to hell anyways, why can't…why can't we be friends then? At the very least…why can't we—"

"'Cuz I don't fuckin' wanna yo friend!" He yelled. I felt my hands shaking. I don't have anyone else. I don't have anyone. So why can't we just be friends? I wanted to say, but didn't. "Na' git the fuck out of my car an' go home!" Tears, they were swelling on the brims of my eyes, I could feel them sitting there, ready to fall at any moment.

I don't…want to be alone. I don't ever want to be alone…not again, not ever again. I grabbed and squeezed my thighs forcefully, but I could not rub them. They were shaking too much and my grip was too tight. I couldn't—I can't be alone again…I can't…I squeezed harder.

"Wha…What's the difference," I said through clenched teeth. "What's the difference between them! and me?" Anger, weeks, months' worth of anger sweltered behind my chest until it could not be contained any longer. "What the fuck is the difference Paul?!" I was shouting as though he weren't only inches away from me, but I didn't care. I shouted anyways, and glared irately into his yellow eyes with tears streaking my face, but I didn't care about that either. "How can you be friends with them!, and not me?! What makes them better than me?!...Are you like them!? Are you homophobic? Do you hate me to?! What did I do to any of you to make you hate me so much?! I haven't done anything. Why can't—"

In a split second, he had fisted the collar of my shirt in one of his hands and we were face to face; him glaring at him and me glaring at him. "Would you shut the hell up!?" He growled malice, his teeth bared, feral snarls eliciting from his orifice. "Ya wanna know the fuckin' difference!? Ya wanna know why I can be friends with them! and not you!? Wha' makes you better than them!?"

I slapped his hand away. "It's because we're the fucking same! I know!"

Again, but with both hands he fisted my shirt and jerked me towards him, and he screamed. "It's because I don't give two shits about them!" Everything in my body stopped; my heartbeat, my mind, my anger, my tears, everything and I looked on with wide eyes up at him.

Apparently he was shocked by his own words, because his eyes were just as wide as mine as he looked on and stared down at me. I searched his eyes, and it was there; sincerity that he did indeed care.

He released me and I fell back into the seat. He looked away, but I could still see his face in the reflection of the window. "…like I said," he began hoarsely, "jus' 'cuz we did this don't mean nothin' gone change…I'm still gone be me, and you gone be whoever the hell ya wanna be." Then he got out. My eyes followed him around the car and to my side where he opened the door for me. "Na' git out, an' go home."

Uncertainly, I got out. I looked up at him still very much in shock, but he still could not meet my gaze. After a short while, I couldn't fight the grin that crept up. His eyes darted to me, and he looked taken aback, if his glare was any indication.

"Wha-what are you smilin' about?" He growled. "I said ain't shit changin'."

I nodded. "I heard you." I walked passed him, grinning all the while. "Thank you, Paul."

He grunted.

By the time I reached my doorstep his engine had livened, and he had already driven off. I looked after him in the darkness.

Nothing was going to change, he had said. I scoffed at the notion.

I didn't believe it. Something had to, I was just curious as to what it would be.

I hummed pensively to myself before I opened the front door and stepped inside, my lips still curved in a smile.

And thus it begins...XD

This took a bit more thought than I assumed it would, but it worked out.

So, tell me what you all think! :)

Until next time,

Au revoir pour l'instant mes amours! Jusqu'à la prochaine fois! = Goodbye for now my loves. Until next time!