If I wasn't broken, would he still hug me? Would he look at me like that? His eyes are my life line. They're soft and warm like dark velour. He's hurting for me. I need his hand on my head, like he does sometimes. I need to feel his skin.
I touch his fingers and he doesn't move. He looks at me and I can see a question that he doesn't ask. "Can you...?" "Yes, Will?" ""No, nothing..."
I need to act. I can't let him slide away like that. I put my hand on his shoulder. He sighs. He's so tensed. Nothing helps. I press my thumb and circle my hand. The way he opens his eyes... He looks so afraid. I have to stop.
I put my hand down, I put my heart in a little inside box, tidily, so that it won't bleed at the sight of him. I want to save him. I need him to be better. He's taken me hostage with his fragile, wounded eyes.
What if it hadn't happen? What if I had met him in this house, all intact? If we could have stayed carefree and happy, would my soul moved when meeting him? Would have I gaped, would he have blushed? He's broken and I want him fixed.
His fingers are on mine "Sonny, please, can you do it again?" "Do what?" Whisper, whisper, don't frighten him, don't send the bird away with a loud voice... "Your hand, it was... I needed that..."
Slowly, slowly, don't scare him. He hides his eyes with relieved eyelids and I'm lost. I need their lights, the dreams they carry. There's a click. And another. Mom is coming with yarn and needles. I shoo her away. I don't want to answer to her frown, I have to do this. I feel her fight. She wants to be nice, she wants to help. But she senses I'm too much in. I'm falling down the cliff he didn't, to a sea of emotions.
How can I live anyway? How can I leave this place to nothing. They've disowned me. And the only thing that keeps me going, the one I cling too... He'll leave too. He has his own life, I'm nothing to him. He doesn't know his hand is the only one I can have on me. He doesn't know he's in my dreams, even when I don't sleep. My body betrays me. It should be for him to desire, I should be able to seduce him. How can I go on?
The clock is wrong, it's not that late. Where is everyone? Why am I alone? My cell is ringing. Maybe there'll be an explanation. "Will?" "Dad?"
"Will, I'm so sorry. I'm on my way, now. I'll take care of you, I promise. I take back everything. I'll make efforts, I swear."
The tears that the sea had stolen, they're back, now. I feel the wrong hand on my shoulder. I shiver. "Will, they're going out tonight. I'll stay with you." Go away, Adrienne, leave me be. My father will be there and I don't need you. He'll be there tomorrow, He said so. With Justin, and you'll be less angry at me. I push her hand, it is cold and limp. She doesn't fight. She's not like him. "Will, come on, make an effort... You need someone to look after you." I push again. My voice is strained, and I'm wailing. "Mom!" It's Sonny's voice. They're whispering. Loudly "Don't be so forceful, can't you see he needs us to be really soft? If he doesn't want you here, I'll stay with him." "No, Sonny, that's enough! You don't owe him anything. He's Marlena's grandson. Let her stay with him. You deserve to have fun!" She's taking him away. I won't sleep tonight until he comes to see me again. EJ is there too. "It's all right, Sonny, listen to your mother." "Excuse-me? I will do my own choice, thank you very much!"
He's so strong. I can't let him go. My dad will come and Sonny will leave. "Sonny, could you... stay?" "See? You guys all go out, I'll be at his side. Don't you event try to talk me out of it!"
The couch is big and I disappear in it. He's too far. There are inches, way too many. The massage was so good, that's why I fell asleep. But now, I want something else. I felt his heart against mine when we first came in. He held me and warmed me up, on this couch. My body is warm now. But my heart is cold.
His smile is a rose in my winter. I can't touch him but I can ask "Do you know why...?" His chin is a butterfly. He does know. "I am too, you know." I do know. The moment he first held me, I was sure.
I move a little. Is he poking me? It's a needle. His mother's. It's cold and pointy like her, underneath her smiles. He is not like her. He's kind and honest and he only smiles when he means it. My hand is heavy. My arm is a coward. He is the sun.