Control

6.

I remember when it was you and me against the world. We'd been friends since forever, and it was going to stay that way: Just us, a quiet redhead and a messy blonde, a reader and a runner, a dancer and a player. Nothing would tear us apart.

11.

Middle school, and all the girls were talking about all the boys (or the cute ones, anyway.) I played on my cello and you danced to the music with the sky in your eyes and a thimble on your smile.

14.

High school was a blur of firsts for us: Our first test-kiss, our first boy-kisses, my first hangover, your first high. My mom left, and your dad died, but it was still us against the world, and always would be.

18.

We moved on to college, and I changed my mind as easily as I could change my nail color, but you'd found a boy, and you said you were going to marry him.


21.

We grew up [or so we liked to say] but we never grew apart, not us. I could control myself now, and you'd almost completely stopped needing to buy your own happiness off the streets.

22.

I knew what your boy was doing, and I was determined to stop it. At least, that's what I said to myself that night; but you spent my birthday fighting with him and slamming all the doors you could find, so I ripped a page off your book and let him be my happiness.

23.

We agreed you didn't have to know about it, and I made him promise to stop. We stopped, too. I stopped needing you to kiss my forehead when my bottles got the best of me, and you stopped telling me when I had to hold you down.

24.

You found out. You found out about a dozen other girls, but I was theloaf who got away. You knew I wouldn't do that; this was the boy you said you'd marry. I held you that night, and we kissed [properly, now] for the first time in a while, and you let me be your happiness again.

25.

You decided I was better than he could ever be, and I agreed. But all that time we weren't us was taking its toll, and I played only on our feelings now, but you still danced with the sky in your eyes even though you'd lost your thimble somewhere along the way.

26.

I don't know how you found out, but you did. And instead of trying to convince you it wasn't true, I let you make up your own mind. I went over and painted his cheek pink with my angry palm, but he had angel-eyes and a silver tongue, and it was over between us anyway, sweetie, so we don't need to be sorry.

--

You drove over that night, while we were breathing too hard to regret you [but you were never a mistake, darling, remember that.]
But something went wrong; maybe your sky-eyes were too clouded with tear-puddles, but I never got to see them again. They were closed in the coffin, and nobody understood when I screamed at you to let me see the skies one last time.

--

It was you and me against the world, darling. But you lied when you said it would stay that way.

You did this.

They weren't perfect, and the cracks were beginning to show.
And when she finally asked him to end it, he knew he couldn't say no; not this time.

~

"Do you still love me?" She asked at length.

"No," He knew he had to say it, but it still hurt.

"Promise?" Why does she have to make sure? Why does she make me lie to her like this? And though it killed him to say it, he had no choice.

"...Yes."

"Thank you," she exhaled deeply, and put her arms around him. He let her hold him for the last time as he tried to swallow down the painful lump burning in his throat.

"I'll miss you," she whispered to him, and his fingers turned numb as her voice crept about his skin.

He tried to kiss her, but she pulled away, and the plaintive look in her eyes told him not to force it.

"Don't," she told him. "Please just don't." So he buried his face in her hair and smelled her familiar scent one last time, and he heard her breathing turning shaky.

"Goodbye," he said, and she smiled weakly.

"Goodbye."

~

He could have pulled her back then, and told her she was making a mistake. But he was the mistake, and he couldn't lie to her anymore.

Up and Apart.

i.

I was four and you were two. My Ma says she remembers me saying how it was such a bother when we had a playdate because you'd take my animal crackers and mash them between your fingers and your mouth but you'd never eat any of them.

ii.

I was seven and you were five, and my Ma told me to find a rose to give to you so she could take a picture with her new camera. I couldn't find any, so I went to Old Alfred's field and picked a wildflower instead. But it had a bee, and you had allergies, and you stuffed the petals in my mouth after your Pa fixed you up with the Epipen.

iii.

I was twelve and you were ten. You went to a Catholic girls' school and you said if I kissed you on the mouth, you wouldn't tell my Pa about the magazines and the cigarettes you helped me steal; but you didn't tell me you would kiss back.

iv.

I was fifteen and you were thirteen, and even though we were tired from racing home on our bikes, you let me sneak you out into Old Alfred's field and pick you a wildflower (sans bee). You stuffed a kiss in my mouth under Jupiter and you told me you liked me liked me, but I knew better than to let you shove my hand down your shirt.

v.

I was eighteen and you were sixteen. I was still trying to call you even if I was getting ready to move across the country, but your Ma always said you were at some other party, and I was starting to wonder what you were asking in return for secret-keeping and if you knew better than to let boys who said they liked you liked you stuff their kisses and in your mouth and their hands down your shirt.

vi.

I'm twenty-one and you're nineteen, but I've got a girl who loves me, and she lets me kiss her under Jupiter without requesting for a high; she found me a thornless rose, sans bee, but the memory of you stings well enough for both.

Finally

You're crying again, begging me to stay, saying you need me; but I'm used to it now.

You'll always say that, but do you ever honestly mean it? What the hell do you need me for, anyway? You're the one who won't let me hold you, the one who won't tell me what's wrong 'til I start hurting you.

Am I suffocating you? Deal with it.

You're the one acting like you don't need me, like you really don't care. I gave you my trust, and what did you do? You shoved it in the dirt, stomped on it and kicked it back into my face.

What were you thinking? Were you thinking? This isn't even a relationship anymore. It's a nuisance.

I can't embellish everything like you can, I can't candy-coat my words to make them sound sweet. You've always known that, haven't you? You hate me for it, too. You're always saying how I'm too logical, I'm too critical. You hypocrite. You needed me to change, even if you never admitted it.
And then you said you changed for me? All you did was get worse.

I'm sick of this crap, you know? I'm sick of having to be there when you obviously don't want me to be. I'm sick of having to fix everything only because you still don't know how.

Maybe I really don't love you anymore. I know I did, once. I did, with all my heart. I can at least promise you that. You've lied to me more times than I've ever broken promises to you, you know.

You were worth something to me once, a forever ago. You were worth everything to me; more than myself. I thought you'd be the one to fix everything, to make me alright. I guess I was wrong, wasn't I? We both know I'm not making that mistake again.

You were an amazing screwup; you were the best mistake of my life. But I don't want to hold you down anymore, and I'm tired of getting hurt.

You're crying again, but I'm sick of it now.

Think Fast.

Copperhead Hall.

~

That’s what it said on the note Dr. Quin had left for him, so Matt folded up the paper and left for the Hall.

~

Nicole had been leaning on the railing for over an hour already, and she was just about to leave when she saw Matt heading her way.

“Did the Quin send you here?” he called out, walking faster now.

“Why are you late?” she called back by way of reply, getting up and moving towards him.

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly when they were finally in front of each other. “I only got the note now.”

“So I’m your girlfriend for the hour?” she asked quietly, suddenly fascinated with her cuffed grey laces.

“I.. guess so. And I’m yours. Boyfriend, I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“So how do we do this?” she looked up at him, and the sheepish look on his face made her laugh. “I mean, do we have mushy pet names for each other, or hold hands or what?”

“You wanna wait for the sunset?” he suggested, shoving his hands in his back pockets. His fingertips felt awkward.

“It’s three in the afternoon!” she said, but her eyes were bright.

“Yeah. We can figure this out while we wait,” he laid a hand on the back of his neck. “Unless you wanna find some candles and have dinner right now.”

“Sunset it is,” she decided, and moved towards the railings again. She turned around, placed her hands on the banister and pushed, trying to get herself up on it, but her feet hit the floor with a carpeted fwup.

“Here, let me,” he offered, and before she could say anything he’d put his hands at her waist and lifted her. She gasped slightly and reached for his shoulders to balance her, but this time she didn’t wobble like she used to.

“Um, thanks,” she said quietly, and she could feel the tips of her ears burning. She swiveled around so her back was to him, and bit her lip as the heat rose in her cheeks.

“So.. do I hug you from behind, or..?” and he tried to hold her, but she’d turned around as he spoke again, and before he could think he’d grabbed her by the arms as she shrieked, her legs flailing.

He pulled her back on the railing as she breathed deeply, clutching at his arms. Her nails dug into his skin.

“Sorry,” they both said, and she giggled.

“We’re very bad at this, aren’t we?” she said, and he laughed.

“Yes, yes we are,” he laced his arms under hers and around her waist, pulling her firmly next to him. “Here’s to hoping I don’t push you off again.”

Her cheeks were on fire as she chewed on her tongue, and she leaned into him hesitantly, breathing in his familiar scent.

“So… what are we looking at?” he asked at length, and everything felt awkward all over again.

“The parking lot!” she proclaimed, and she could feel him laughing silently. It felt too right to be with him. She took a breath.

“Think fast!” And before he could blink she’d pressed her lips to his and got her fingers tangled up in his hair.

It ended before he could realize it, and he was left blinking rapidly as she whipped her head around, her neck turning several shades of red at once.

“Erm. That was..”

“I’m sorry. I guess, well. I guess I, uh. I tried,” she said so quietly, he had to strain himself to hear her.

“It’s.. it’s fine. I.. just didn’t expect it,” he tried to reassure her, but he was pretty sure she couldn’t hear him well past his heart pounding in his throat. “We’re okay now?”

“I suppose,” she replied, even quieter than before. He only realized she was clutching at his hands when he couldn’t feel his fingertips anymore.

She could feel his heart pounding against her, and she wondered if he could feel hers, too. She loosened her grip on his fingers and threaded hers through them.

“Is the hour almost over?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. She sounded impatient.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” he said, pulling away. “You wanna just say we’re done after an hour?” She could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“No,” she said, pulling his arms back around her. “We’ll wait for the sunset.”