What do the stars feel when they look at Us?

Chapter 6: Girlfriend Pt. 2

I spent most of the weekend trying to figure out what was going on in my brain. Because after the rain I slowly became sick and tired of the Caterpillars and not me being in control.

It didn't help much, all the thinking. And perhaps I kind of started avoiding Linda again.

I wasn't too proud of that, to say the least.

What I couldn't avoid, though, was seeing Pedro. Because it had been time for our monthly Sunday workday which we exclusively and only used to go to the library and then not work at all.

There's this tea shop, right around the corner of it.

We always meet up there, get ourselves the sweetest ever produced milk tea, sit on the wooden bench in the front, underneath a small, red awning that barely gives any protection from the sunlight.

Pedro then starts to complain about the Sunday workday.

This time it was about how it just had to fall on this exact Sunday, right before the holidays.

And I let him ramble.

And while he contemplated all of his life decisions I usually waited. And did nothing.

But today, on this Sunday that was so full of fate and ineffable euphoria, I watched all the people passing by and how the shadows covered exact and sharp parts of their skins.

Shadows made a lot of sense. They show up in all the places the sun doesn't properly shine onto.

The Caterpillars didn't make any sense at all. It always felt like they just showed up whenever they wanted. As if they had their own free will.

I imagined if the shadow's existence wouldn't be dictated by any natural law.

All the people passing by would be twitching messes of light and dark.

That would suck.

-

Our usual non-working spot was the top floor of the library. There were always some old and rancid beanbags standing around in the corner, farthest away from the escalator.

We sat down and talked about everyday things. About school. About books. At some point even about the weather.

But something significant had changed.

Because we then talked about the day his brother had been dead for two years.

I still didn't tell him why I had been upset on that day. Or what was going on in my head, after the seizure at night and at the lake in the morning.

He accepted it. We closed the subject.

It was an unfamiliar and strange feeling. To talk about things. But it felt so incredibly rewarding - as if the whole journey you experienced happened so it could be told to a person you trust.

It smelled like the grass in the park and like the air that foreshadowed rain. It felt like a drenched hug and stars falling onto a pavilion.

So I told Pedro all about that as well.

How I met Merlin and Oscar. How they reminded me of him and myself.

What Linda looked like. How differently.

He asked me if I thought she was pretty.

And it took me a while to figure out a way to respond.

He sat there in his beanbag, patiently waiting, looking out of the window, as it got darker outside.

"I like being used to things, but, obviously, everything's changing constantly. So that's part of the paradox in my brain that I have to get around."

Pedro smiled as he heard me using the word "paradox".