𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Overdue

I torcher myself with thoughts of you

These images in my head

They'll tease my every waking hour

Until I rest for dead

—————

"Do I make you happy?"

I knew where the question came from, why I'd asked it. It had been on my mind since the day before, since we'd returned from the wedding. I hadn't had the chance to speak with him then, but now I could. And I felt the need to ask.

A question like that usually came from a place of doubt, self consciousness. The asker might feel inadequate, unsure of what others think. But in my case, it was hopeful.

It was like I'd been torn in two, split down the middle. One half of me wanted him to say yes; it longed to be told how loved it was, how much it was needed by another person. It wanted to know that it was the source of another person's happiness.

But the other, wanted an easy way out. If he said no, confessed that I was beginning to bore him, that he was no longer interested in pursuing this- us, then I wouldn't have to be the one to end things.

It had been boiling in me since this started, but the words themselves could never seem to escape. They were bitter on my tongue, never spoken, only thought. So this was the compromise. Asking him if I made him happy, in hopes of getting over the taste.

The two of us lay under the sea above, our backs on the grass, cut short by grazing sheep. I was dark out, but I'd brought a lamp. Something about it made my eyes see orange in the sky, dark and warm. The weather was beginning to get hotter, the spring breeze slowly blowing away with every passing day. It was too hot to walk on rocky beaches without any shoes, or stray too far from a glass of water.

I could make him out in the reddish glow of the burning lamp, the angles of his face, the creases of his shirt. His brows were furrowed, pressed closer together and heavier on his eyes. The question had surprised him, or hurt him, I really couldn't tell.

It was a while before he said anything. I think he was expecting me to say something else, give him some from of explanation, because while I knew where it was coming from, he was clueless on the matter. But once he realized I wasn't going to say any more, after what felt like an eternity of harsh staring, he gave me an answer.

"Of course you do," He said.

I remained expressionless, turning my head away from him slowly to look straight ahead of me, up at the emptiness, not a star in sight. I don't know if it was what I wanted to hear, or if a different answer would have made me feel any better. But I could feel his gaze remaining trained on my face, so I think it's what he thought I wanted him to say.

"Do I?" I'd heard him swallow just before saying it. He'd never been good at hiding his nerves, the boy had tells. Whether it be running his teeth along his lower lip or biting the inside of his cheek, I could tell.

It hadn't been my intention to make him feel that way, like there was something to doubt or be wary of. It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me. I needed to tell him, I couldn't just pretend like it wasn't there, like I didn't feel that way. But that wasn't the time to do it.

"Yeah." And it was an honest answer.

Of course he made me happy, of course I wanted to be with him. He's the most important person in my life, and I would always want him to be a part of it. But as much as I needed him to be with me, and be there for me; I needed him to know that it couldn't be in the way he wanted.