Crazy Together

Thoughts

Once we left Suzie's grandpa's hotel, things were quiet for a bit. Mike looked like we was focused on his thoughts, like he was constantly solving a math equation in his head.

— Hey, Umm... Are you okay?

Mike's face twitched back to normal after he snapped out from his struggle. - Hmm? I'm fine.

- Are you sure? - I asked, not convinced. - You look like your thinking about something.

— No, I'm okay. — He said, confidently.

— Okay, then.

We slipped back into the comfortable silence ( it became comfortable after a while when we stopped caring about the awkwardness),but that didn't last long.

— Actually — Mike said turning to me, his expressive brows asking a question before he even started speaking again. — Do you have a pencil and paper I could borrow?

— Yeah, sure. — I said, letting a small chuckle escape as I scavaged my backpack for a pen.

— What?

— Nothing, I... — I looked at him, a bit more serious, handing him what he asked for. His hand brushed against mine as I spoke. — I promise I won't read it this time.

After a few minutes of scribbling, I heard silence again. This time, accompanied by sounds of tears hitting the paper. Mike was completely quiet, but he was definitely crying. I couldnt see his face under his hair, since he was looking- no, staring - down at the paper, but it felt like he was panicking. I know way too well how that feels, my arm still stinging from last night's events.

I know how it feels to have your head so full of thoughts that you can't concentrate on only one of them, as if the whole world was screaming at you. And I know how bad he must feel that I can see what's happening. Well, not exactly, but I know he's not okay.

I stay in this paralyzed state for a few seconds, not knowing if I should say something, that might catch Jonathan's attention and I'm sure he doesn't want that. So I decide not to say anything. I just put my hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

He looks up at me and his face has fear written all over it. What was he afraid of? What I might say? What I might think? Whatever it was that he wrote on that paper? I didn't know. I'm not sure it mattered. I just needed him to know that he didn't need to feel that way, independently of why.

He was still looking at me, so I decided to give him a comprehensive smile. My own eyes were starting to get misty too, seeing the state he was in. He finally gave me a short, sad smile in response, that faded quickly as I could see he was getting overwhelmed again. This time, he was able to pull himself back to reality without my help, he straightened his back, sighed and wiped away his tears, making it seem like he was okay.

I removed my hand from his shoulder, as I felt I was "overstaying my welcome". Then, after a few minutes, he spoke.

— You know, I wanted to ask you something. — his words were a little shaky from all the crying. Nevertheless, he was smiling softly.

— What is it?

— When you read... What I wrote. How much did you read exactly?

I knew what he was asking me. If I had seen the sentence right above the two paragraphs I focused on during our fight.

— I didn't read much. Just the last part of it.

— You're not lying, are you? — I could feel my blood get slightly colder. There was no reason to lie to him. That would only make him more nervous.