wherever I am, you'll always be
It hurts.
It hurts like hell. Letting it out, letting go. For years, he held it in. A shudder fell across his shoulders, the sob racking his body. His hand moved up from his chest toward his shoulder, almost as if to hug himself, to hold those pieces of himself together - not to let them fall away from him. The blame that he shouldered, the weight he carried, the shame he felt in his soul. It all came rushing out in terrible, silent tears.
He could feel Aisha resolving beside him, though not in the same way she had wanted to before. Something felt different in the air that she breathed out; something released. He fought against that feeling, the tug of that invisible wisp against his lips. He bit down on it.
Aisha moved to meet his gaze and, for a moment, he wanted to hurl himself away from her, to take to the sky and leave. He didn't want to be seen like this, either.
But he stayed put, locked down by feet that felt like stone and a gut that wrenched at the thought of leaving her here alone. His fingers clutched tighter around his shoulder, until finally he let go of his hold. His arm slid down until it fell to his side, and his gaze finally leveled with hers. Those warm, hazel eyes of hers met his hurt, bruised blues. He shook his head at her.
"Don't thank me," the words came blubbering out, quivering, "I'm your friend." And this is what friends are for. Not for leading you into the darkness, never to return. Another sob pulsed through him and he simply let it. "He was my friend, Aisha... and.." his voice raised, at first, and then lowered as his grit faded, "and I failed him. They ripped him apart right in front of me, and I- I couldn't do anything... I wish they'd taken me in-instead-" He choked on the last words, not because they were a lie but precisely because they were the truth. That's a hard truth to live with.
It hurts like hell. Letting it out, letting go. For years, he held it in. A shudder fell across his shoulders, the sob racking his body. His hand moved up from his chest toward his shoulder, almost as if to hug himself, to hold those pieces of himself together - not to let them fall away from him. The blame that he shouldered, the weight he carried, the shame he felt in his soul. It all came rushing out in terrible, silent tears.
He could feel Aisha resolving beside him, though not in the same way she had wanted to before. Something felt different in the air that she breathed out; something released. He fought against that feeling, the tug of that invisible wisp against his lips. He bit down on it.
Aisha moved to meet his gaze and, for a moment, he wanted to hurl himself away from her, to take to the sky and leave. He didn't want to be seen like this, either.
But he stayed put, locked down by feet that felt like stone and a gut that wrenched at the thought of leaving her here alone. His fingers clutched tighter around his shoulder, until finally he let go of his hold. His arm slid down until it fell to his side, and his gaze finally leveled with hers. Those warm, hazel eyes of hers met his hurt, bruised blues. He shook his head at her.
"Don't thank me," the words came blubbering out, quivering, "I'm your friend." And this is what friends are for. Not for leading you into the darkness, never to return. Another sob pulsed through him and he simply let it. "He was my friend, Aisha... and.." his voice raised, at first, and then lowered as his grit faded, "and I failed him. They ripped him apart right in front of me, and I- I couldn't do anything... I wish they'd taken me in-instead-" He choked on the last words, not because they were a lie but precisely because they were the truth. That's a hard truth to live with.
more than just a memory
HENRY
