Wings

Unwanted Love

~~"True love is always unconditional. Healthy, loving relationships are never unconditional." ~Harold J. Duarte-Bernhardt~~

By the time I got home it was completely dark outside and my shoes were soaked from the snow. I hurried to kick them off in the foyer and proceeded to take off my socks as well. Dangling the wet socks in hands, I rushed to the cramped laundry room and threw them in the dryer.

Jack was in the kitchen eating dinner. "Where have you been?" He asked, semi-curiously. His eyes were glued to the basketball game that was on the television. 

"The studio," I answered. I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and took it up to my room with me.

Once I was in my room I set my violin case in the corner and plopped down on my rolling desk chair. I shrugged my book bag off of my shoulders and pulled out my Calculus homework. After two hours of working and studying, I stepped into my shower and finally warmed my cold feet.

After showering, I changed into some comfortable clothes and was about to head downstairs for something to eat, when my phone rang.

"Hello?" I said, holding the phone up to my ear.

"It's Bush," he said. "Can I come over?"

I tried not to sigh too loudly. I wasn't in the mood for company. However, with the way Bush was acting lately, I knew it would only cause an argument if I refused. "Sure," I answered.

"Great, I'll be there in ten."

I hung up the phone and tossed it on my bed. Just what I needed. Releasing a loud sigh, I hurried down the stairs to grab a quick snack before Bush arrived.

I munched on leftovers and then answered the front door when Bush knocked on it. Jack was still watching TV in the other room. "Who's that?" He hollered.

"Just Bush," I replied. Jack knew that we were dating. He wasn't really impressed by Bush, but he tolerated him. As long as I seemed happy, Jack was happy.

I walked over to the door and held it open for Bush. "Hey," I greeted.

He gave a small smile, "Hey."

With that, we walked up two flights of stairs to my room. I took a seat on my bed, allowing him to sit on my desk chair.

"So what's up?" I asked him.

"Not much."

I bit my lip and looked around my room. There was a pile of clothes in the corner of the room that I had been too lazy to put in the laundry basket, my school books were spread out on the floor by my desk, and my desk was in need of some serious dusting. Nothing Bush hadn't seen before. I didn't really care what my room looked like. In fact, sometimes it was much messier, though I normally tried to keep my room pretty tidy.

Maggie always seemed to check my room whenever it was messy and so I tried to keep it clean most of the time. I hated getting in arguments with her over silly things like an unclean room.

Bush seemed to be perplexed by the little trinkets on my desk. He was busy fiddling with a new book I had gotten from the library. It was awkward really. Why was he here?

"So," I started saying, desperately trying to break some tension. "Did you need something?"

Bush set the book down and looked at me with a confused look on his face. "Need something?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Why'd you want to come over?"

He frowned. "Do I need a reason?"

I shrugged my shoulders a little and looked down at my hands. "No, I guess not."

He continued to look at me for a long time until he finally broke his gaze away and looked back at the book on my desk. He got up and took a seat next to me on my bed. I shifted over slightly. Something was up with him.

I turned my head to look at him, searching his face for any signs of bruising.

He returned the gaze, reaching with one of his fingers to tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ears. I hated it when he did that, it wasn't like my hair was in my face or anything. It was just an excuse to touch me.

I looked away from him and back at my lap.

He seemed to notice where my focus was because he took my hands in his, forcing my eyes to look back into his again. His eyes were a restricting brown color and there seemed to be no depth beneath them. His light brown hair lay flat on his head and I finally noticed the formation of a dark bruise by his forehead.

His dad had hit him again. That was why he was here.

"How've you been, Ray?" he asked.

I shrugged, something I seemed to do a lot around him. "You know how I've been," I said. "I ate lunch with you at school today."

"I know," he said with a sigh. "I guess I'm just trying to make conversation," he admitted.

I bit my lip and looked down again. I didn't like forcing conversation with Bush. It never ended well.

He cupped my face with his hands and forced me to look at him. "I love you," he said.

I didn't say anything.

I thought I saw his eyes grow darker. Not a good sign.

He kept my face in his hands as he leaned forward and kissed me. I tried not to jerk my head back. I let him kiss me for a few more agonizing seconds and then finally pulled away.

"Are you okay?" I asked hesitatingly.

His jaw clenched and I knew I shouldn't have said anything. "I'm fine."

I looked away from him and noticed the time on the clock. "It's getting late," I said. It was only 9:30 but I needed an excuse.

He seemed to notice this. "It's not that late. Can't I stay? I miss you, Raley."

"I miss you too," I lied. This wasn't working. I couldn't keep forcing feelings for him; I couldn't keep lying like this. But I didn't have the heart to break his.

"Sure," I replied. "You can stay."

He smiled and wrapped his arms around me in an awkward, sitting hug. I fumbled to return the embrace.

We spent the next hour lying on my bed, watching old shows my small television screen. After exactly an hour, I kicked him out, faking a yawn and pleading that I was tired. He believed me, I think.

I walked him out to the door, let him kiss me goodbye, and then returned up to my room. I climbed in bed and turned off my lamp. From my bed, I looked out the glass door to my balcony. The lights from the streets illuminated the corner of the balcony and I noticed a shadowy figure there. I caught my breath and carefully got out of bed, never once taking my eyes off of the figure.

With shaky hands, I turned the handle of the glass door and opened it. As soon as the door was open, a gust of cold wind chilled my bones and the figure was gone. A trick of the light, I told myself.

I let out a sigh and then turned back into my room, closing the door to the balcony behind me. I climbed back in bed and pulled the covers up tight around me, forcing my eyes to close.