Disclaimer: The lyrics belong to Lifehouse. Not me. Get it? Good.
"Cause I am hanging on every word you say, and
Even if you don't want to speak tonight, that's all right
All right with me
Cause I want nothing more than
To stand outside your door
And listen to you breathing
That's where I wanna be."
Examining the door frames proved to be the only way to occupy myself as I walked around the dorm, waiting for Roy to finish changing in the bathroom. I didn't care much about the dirty white wood around the closet door, but I was trying to take my mind off of how anxious I was.
When the bathroom door finally creaked open, he slinked out in a faded white bathrobe. I noticed that his hair was still wet, and gauze was wrapped around his throat. I closed my eyes for a moment; I still couldn't get over what he had done to himself. Looking back to him, I could see that his eyes were set low; probably trying not to look at me. He glanced up at me, and I took that opportunity to gesture toward one of the beds, offering him a seat. He briefly put on a fake smile--or the closest he could manage--and slowly dragged himself toward the center of the room and onto the side of the bed. I cautiously made my way to the bed myself, ready to back off at any sign that he didn't want me near him. But he didn't seem to mind, so I sat down next to him.
"Are you all right?" I asked softly. In response, he simply nodded and continued examining his hands. Of course, I knew that wasn't his real answer. "Hey," I placed one hand on the side of his face, and he finally looked up at me. "Are you all right," I repeated, putting nothing but my concern into my voice.
His eyes met mind for a moment, until he sighed and turned his head. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Why did you do that, Roy?" I continued, finally putting my worry and fear into my words. "I just don't understand. I know you're going through a hard time at this place, but I didn't think you'd cut your own throat."
My words may have been too much, I thought, when he dropped his head and his breath began to quaver.
"I know this is upsetting you, and I'm sorry... But don't you realize how much it upset me when you did that?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't seem to mean it; maybe he just wanted me to stop. I exhaled and dropped my shoulders, and then looked back to him. He had his head bowed, and through the strands of auburn hair that hung over his face, I could see that his eyes were barely open. He looked like he was ready to cry, but just couldn't manage the energy to do so. It was hard to believe that the fighter of stone that I knew in the arena was so sensitive off the field. He looked so worn... So fragile. As if his vulnerable personality and his soft, yet shivering pale skin could be broken by the slightest push. He could break at any moment.
No... He was already broken.
I realized that he was too weak for what I was giving him at that moment. At that time, the best thing I could do was to support him; give him someone to fall back on so that he could regain his strength. I brushed back a strand of hair from his face and placed a hand onto his skin. He glanced back up at me as I ran my fingers across his face, taking in the soft feeling of his skin... And silently thanking the gods that he was still breathing.
"Why do you keep doing that?" he mumbled, putting a hand over my and stopping my movement.
Upon his question, I realized just what I was doing, and pulled my hand away. "What do you mean?"
He let out a half-scoff, half-laugh. "You don't think I forgot that you kissed me yesterday..."
I bit my lower lip and sighed. Part of me was glad that he thought enough of it to mention it again, but most of me wished that by some strange turn of events, he did. But all of my longed for the chance to do it again...
"Marth?" he turned his head to the side and put me back into reality. "Please tell me."
I sighed again, heavier than before. "I don't think I should tell you when you're like this."
"Why?" his voice was soft and weak. It almost seemed as if he wanted to know to make him feel better... The answer was obvious, but maybe he just needed to hear someone say they cared about him. But that didn't make it any easier to say... "Well, if you don't want to tell me, I suppose it's all right," he closed his eyes and turned his head, "I know the answer, anyway."
"Oh, really?"
He looked back to me. "You love me."
"What?!" I immediately spat. I could feel myself turn red, although I tried to hide my embarrassment.
"Am I right?"
"Well," I cleared my throat and tried to keep clam, "I don't know about the way you put it--"
"I can tell, Marth," he half smiled. That was the most positive think I had gotten out of him all night. I told myself that it would be best not to lie.
"How long have you known this?" I asked, a little embarrassed to make eye contact. But still I ended up looking at him.
He closed his eyes for a moment. "Since you came back for me."
Somehow, his answer interested me, and I turned to face him. I didn't say anything; the questioning look on my face said enough.
"When I heard you calling to me, I swore it was my imagination. But then you found me... And I realized that you really did care about me," he ran his hand across my face, "and that kiss really did mean something."
I thought it was safe to assume by his words and gestured that it would be okay to try that again, but he beat me to it. Before I could lean in and kiss him, his lips were pressed against my own. I wasn't sure how to react to his unexpected action, but I ended up kissing him as well. I slid my fingers into his damp hair and took in the feel of being close to him. He leaned closer, pressing his chest against my own and pushing me back. I invited his actions wholly, brushing a hand across his shoulders.
He was already broken...
But maybe I could help to put him back together.
"Cause I am hanging on every word you say, and
Even if you don't want to speak tonight, that's all right
All right with me
Cause I want nothing more than
To stand outside your door
And listen to you breathing
That's where I wanna be."
Examining the door frames proved to be the only way to occupy myself as I walked around the dorm, waiting for Roy to finish changing in the bathroom. I didn't care much about the dirty white wood around the closet door, but I was trying to take my mind off of how anxious I was.
When the bathroom door finally creaked open, he slinked out in a faded white bathrobe. I noticed that his hair was still wet, and gauze was wrapped around his throat. I closed my eyes for a moment; I still couldn't get over what he had done to himself. Looking back to him, I could see that his eyes were set low; probably trying not to look at me. He glanced up at me, and I took that opportunity to gesture toward one of the beds, offering him a seat. He briefly put on a fake smile--or the closest he could manage--and slowly dragged himself toward the center of the room and onto the side of the bed. I cautiously made my way to the bed myself, ready to back off at any sign that he didn't want me near him. But he didn't seem to mind, so I sat down next to him.
"Are you all right?" I asked softly. In response, he simply nodded and continued examining his hands. Of course, I knew that wasn't his real answer. "Hey," I placed one hand on the side of his face, and he finally looked up at me. "Are you all right," I repeated, putting nothing but my concern into my voice.
His eyes met mind for a moment, until he sighed and turned his head. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Why did you do that, Roy?" I continued, finally putting my worry and fear into my words. "I just don't understand. I know you're going through a hard time at this place, but I didn't think you'd cut your own throat."
My words may have been too much, I thought, when he dropped his head and his breath began to quaver.
"I know this is upsetting you, and I'm sorry... But don't you realize how much it upset me when you did that?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't seem to mean it; maybe he just wanted me to stop. I exhaled and dropped my shoulders, and then looked back to him. He had his head bowed, and through the strands of auburn hair that hung over his face, I could see that his eyes were barely open. He looked like he was ready to cry, but just couldn't manage the energy to do so. It was hard to believe that the fighter of stone that I knew in the arena was so sensitive off the field. He looked so worn... So fragile. As if his vulnerable personality and his soft, yet shivering pale skin could be broken by the slightest push. He could break at any moment.
No... He was already broken.
I realized that he was too weak for what I was giving him at that moment. At that time, the best thing I could do was to support him; give him someone to fall back on so that he could regain his strength. I brushed back a strand of hair from his face and placed a hand onto his skin. He glanced back up at me as I ran my fingers across his face, taking in the soft feeling of his skin... And silently thanking the gods that he was still breathing.
"Why do you keep doing that?" he mumbled, putting a hand over my and stopping my movement.
Upon his question, I realized just what I was doing, and pulled my hand away. "What do you mean?"
He let out a half-scoff, half-laugh. "You don't think I forgot that you kissed me yesterday..."
I bit my lower lip and sighed. Part of me was glad that he thought enough of it to mention it again, but most of me wished that by some strange turn of events, he did. But all of my longed for the chance to do it again...
"Marth?" he turned his head to the side and put me back into reality. "Please tell me."
I sighed again, heavier than before. "I don't think I should tell you when you're like this."
"Why?" his voice was soft and weak. It almost seemed as if he wanted to know to make him feel better... The answer was obvious, but maybe he just needed to hear someone say they cared about him. But that didn't make it any easier to say... "Well, if you don't want to tell me, I suppose it's all right," he closed his eyes and turned his head, "I know the answer, anyway."
"Oh, really?"
He looked back to me. "You love me."
"What?!" I immediately spat. I could feel myself turn red, although I tried to hide my embarrassment.
"Am I right?"
"Well," I cleared my throat and tried to keep clam, "I don't know about the way you put it--"
"I can tell, Marth," he half smiled. That was the most positive think I had gotten out of him all night. I told myself that it would be best not to lie.
"How long have you known this?" I asked, a little embarrassed to make eye contact. But still I ended up looking at him.
He closed his eyes for a moment. "Since you came back for me."
Somehow, his answer interested me, and I turned to face him. I didn't say anything; the questioning look on my face said enough.
"When I heard you calling to me, I swore it was my imagination. But then you found me... And I realized that you really did care about me," he ran his hand across my face, "and that kiss really did mean something."
I thought it was safe to assume by his words and gestured that it would be okay to try that again, but he beat me to it. Before I could lean in and kiss him, his lips were pressed against my own. I wasn't sure how to react to his unexpected action, but I ended up kissing him as well. I slid my fingers into his damp hair and took in the feel of being close to him. He leaned closer, pressing his chest against my own and pushing me back. I invited his actions wholly, brushing a hand across his shoulders.
He was already broken...
But maybe I could help to put him back together.