Before you knew

144.

Clay is the first to retreat to his room.

I try to give him as much space as I can, staying downstairs till I can't keep my eyes open.

I head up the stairs, looking at the window down the hall as the streetlight illuminate the street.
I reach the door and I take a second to gather everything that has happened today.
Everything that I've been told since I got here.

Protect him from himself, is what his mother said.
But don't just leave the decision to him, his father told me.

With both things in mind I reach for the cold steel handle on the white door.
When I open it, my eyes fall on an empty bed, though when I step in, and my feet feel the soft carpet under them, I notice him standing at his old desk, shuffling though pages of a old notebook.

'You're not asleep.'

I state what I'm seeing.
He quickly glances my way.

'Im not.'

He puts away the notebook he's holding and opens the small cabinet under his desk.
A pile of notebooks with colorful papers sticking out from between pages.

I gently close the door behind me as Clay crouches in for on the pile, and takes one out.
He raises to his feet, and opens it.

I watch how he flips through the pages, looking through the haphazardly written lines.
I walk up, and lay my hand on his back as I stand next to him, feeling his heat seep into my touch.

'I'm sorry.'

The words make him stop his movements.
'We need to talk this out, I understand that now. Talk about every little detail.'
He lets out a breath, his shoulders easing.

'Thank you, but it's late. We should do this at home, or at least not where my family will be bothered by us.'
'Then can we go to sleep, like we always used to do, and forget about this for just one night?'

Clay closes the notebook.
'I...' he takes a deep breath.
Noticing how he wants to tell me something, I sit down on the bed, patting the place next to me.
He moves over and sits down next to me, holding his hands folded in his lap.

'Ive been having these nightmares...'
He takes a moment to collect the words, and I move to face the same way Clay is.

'Its about us. We fight, over and over. The house, the beach, the street we used to live on, always covered in dark shadows and looming memories that I haven't gotten over yet. And.... it's not you talking, you saying words you want to. But you say my words. You talk back at me with my own words and thoughts.'

He takes a second, and I need a moment to realize how deep this may go.

'Sometimes it's not you, but me. Younger me.'
He looks up at me and I can see the worry that looms over him.
The weight of his own mind.

He sighs and shakes his head a little.
'You talking to yourself is a nightmare?'

He chuckles half heartedly,
'Im scarier that you'd think.'

I reach out, and gently lay my hand on his arm, trailing up till I reach the short sleeve of his T-shirt.
My eyes move with my hand till it stops and my gaze moves to his eyes.

His green orbs are fixed on my hand.

'Im sorry.' I whisper again.
'Me too.'

I don't know wether it's to him or to me, but whoever it's meant for, it's sincere.