I Want You to Stay

An Official Date

"The good ole days weren't always good,

And tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems."

~Keeping the Faith, by Billy Joel

••
I trudge towards the boy's house.

No, the boy's old houses.

His new house is in 4. Where I can't look out for him like I have for the last two years.

I kick at a bush with all my strength. Damn that kid.

I scowl at the ground with my hands shoved in my pockets, my feet walking the memorized path I've learned over the years, even in my extremely hangover state.

We could say I had to...try to forget about the boy leaving last night.

I trudge up the steps and take a breath, turning the knob for possibly the last time. It's unlocked, there's never been any reason to lock doors around here, so I let myself right in. It's cold - no, it's freezing. I try the light switch and it doesn't work. I make a tight line with my lips.

The boy sure is responsible.

I go to the power box just in case he forgot to turn anything off, but see everything but one lamp still in and running. I scowl and flick it off.

Damn forgetful boy.

I kick the wall in pure anger, cursing profanity under my breath at the boy.

Why'd he have to leave. Why'd he have to leave. Why did the damn kid have to leave.

I take a deep breath and rest my head on the wall, closing my eyes to the pounding headache I've been rewarded with. I kick the wall trim once again and bite my lips together. Before I know what the hell in doing, I find my feet slowly trudging through his house.

His old house.

My feet lead me through the quiet kitchen, then through the studio. I scowl. His two favorite places to be. I let my fingers skim along the hanging pots over the stove in the kitchen, causing them to knock softly together.

I walk through his living room and look around at what he's done with it. It doesn't look like mine or even the girl's living room. He's put life into it. Just like he's always done. I glare at he thought of him taking that happiness to 4.

So I throw a pillow at the wall. Hard. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes.

I really need a gin right now.

I remove my hands and keep walking to wherever my feet take me. I end up upstairs, looking around and half wondering how I got up here. I just roll my eyes at myself and turn towards his bedroom. I turn the knob unceremoniously and trudge in, looking at the walls that he's marked as his own with personal touch of decoration.

I turn my head to the bed and have to cover my mouth to muffle the shout of terror.

The girl and boy lay there together, him spooned up behind her with their hands clasped together at her stomach. By the looks of the lumpy figures at the bottom of the bed, their legs are twisted together in a want of never letting go. Her head is tucked under his chin in a protective manner, and their soft breathes rise and fall in harmony with the other.

I lean against the wall, clutching my chest and taking short, shaky breaths. I force myself to look if it's real, urging my head slowly to the side to inspect further. I snap my head back.

They're really here. Both of them.

I take a shaky breath of anxiety, in through my nose, out through my mouth. I pinch the bridge of my nose between my eyes.