Chapter 2: The good sentences

I remember, how I was walking around in the hallways of your bunker. There's not so much else to do, when you're resting. At least I thought you were resting. As I came by your room, I noticed the half open door and saw you packing a few clothes and other things into your bag. I knocked on the door a couple of times quietly and stepped inside. You turned around, but then continued packing.

"Where are you going?" I asked and tried not to let too much of my fear of loss resound in my voice.

"I found a job for us," you answered randomly and your active motions and the fast movements made me nervous.

"A job?"

"Yeah. Looks like a ghoul"

"Ok," I gave, "where are we headed?"

You paused and looked at me with that gaze I can't stand. The avoiding eyes, which want everything, but look into mine. The half open mouth, which waits for words you still have to think about. And I appreciate it. I really appreciated it, that you try to say it in a way I won't misunderstand it or feel hurt. But at the same time I hate that gaze. Because every time I have to see it, I know you're about to say something to me I don't like. And I hate, that you say things I don't like. I hate, that you try to say it nicely, as if it was nothing. I hate, that there aren't only good sentences between us.

"Listen, Cas," you said, and I listened, "it's just a little job. We don't actually need you with this, Sam and I gonna handle it"

My heart was burning. Sam and you. Never would I be as important as Sam. Never would I mean as much to you. Never would I mean more to you. Sam is your brother and he is everything in this world that is good for you. I just wished, you would see, that I am everything in this world you need. I am the one you should have taken with you to that job. I am the one, who should have fought on your side. I am the one you should have needed. But I started realizing, that we weren't there yet. One day you would realize it. One day you would see it. And I nodded and left the room without a word. Because the mortification would have deformed my voice and painted the words I would have said in a dark color. And so I went away soundlessly, because even when you can't say good sentences every now and then, I want nothing else than to say good things to you.

I remember, how I was wandering around the hallways of your bunker again and felt completely useless. And I wished, I could disappear in one of those grey walls and, in my unimportantness, at least not burden anything. As if the ground was sick of having to carry me and the air of being breathed by me. But one day I would mean something to you. One day I would be useful and the ground would carry me and the air would love me.

I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and stopped. As I turned around, I looked into your green eyes, which fixed me like they haven't ever wanted to avoid me. You must have followed me. And something inside me rejoiced and something inside me didn't dare to hope. Just to wait. I remember, how I eagerly anticipated what you would say, every fibre of my body tense and excited for the good sentences.

"We all matter - maybe less than a lot, but always more than none."

(John Green)