BLACK SHEEP | DW

051.

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life— It goes on."
robert frost

the way the sun caressed the falling leaves, a reverent silence fell upon venus as she had watched it so vigilantly.

more frequently, she was finding herself sleepless, and Dallas seemed to be running out of lullabies. he could tell her, promise her even, that everything would be fine— that her and him and johnny would walk out of that hospital better than they had entered it, but he couldn't even convince himself. his empty words had fell on deaf ears, venus hadn't believed him, but she had let him swear it up and down for his own health.

just sitting there, like they were neither asleep nor awake, basking in the presence of the rising sun on the last days of fall. he took her hand so gently as he sat on the corner of the bed— freshly made sheets pressed down to a prim perfection. "why," he would mutter every once and a while in the deafening silence. "you just had to save those stupid kids, man," he would continue on.

and eventually, venus would say, "you only see helping as a flaw or fault," her voice would crack under the pressure that had built up around the room. "or a weakness to be exploited," venus would tuck a rogue curl behind her ear. "but humans are messy, Dally. that's what makes it so great. we can live, and love, and make mistakes, and feel so much."

he would sigh after a moment, lost in his head that had always picked apart the meaning of her poetic sense of speaking. "feel," he would laugh under the harsh huff of air he let out from his mouth. "you make me feel," he would point out, while he turned his head away from her— to avoid any judgement. "and i don't like it."

"you can't keep running back and forth between feeling and not," venus would run her thumb over the back of her hand. "it's not easy," she would nod, like she understood, but then smile lightly. "but that's the wonder of it all. nothing worth having is easy."

it was a tiny victory, the half smile that turned up at the corner of his mouth and then disappeared just as quickly as it came.

Dallas, for so long, was given a name and then alienated from himself. his name did not allow him to trust anyone who could not pronounce it right.

all the bruised knuckles, and black eyes, and sleepless nights, and hunger, and the slow ticking of a clock— the clock to the day that it all could finally end. all of it was worth it if just one person could understand, if one person could pronounce his name so eloquently that it seemed like they might have seen through his eyes and read his life.

venus could.

maybe mountain tops are made so they can see the sun first every morning. maybe the ocean was made just so it can give the moon some company. maybe the trees root themselves in the ground so they can show how a living being can get so high. maybe venus was made so someone could understand Dally.

"venus," he would say, just above a whisper, so he could hear the way her name sounded on his tongue one more time. "i'm terrible for you," he would admit.

maybe what he wanted to say was, "on days like this, would you still love me anyway," but he only could utter, "i'm terrible."

terrible.

terrible.

but venus, gripping his hand a little tighter, gave him the answer, "on days like this, i will love you anyway."