ALL THE WORDS WE COULDN'T SAY

F I F T E E N

Persy Leos was going to be in my room, I thought to myself as I began to tidy the place up. It didn't need much tidying as I always kept my room fairly clean. But it felt too messy, too exposing for her arrival.

I checked myself in the mirror once I heard her knock. I then realised I was checking myself in the mirror for a woman who couldn't care less about my appearance.

I tried not to seem too eager when I opened the door. While I was glad that I was working with her, she wasn't too happy about the whole ordeal. I didn't even understand why I was so eager anyway. Nothing would change between us.

She was dressed in the same cargos she wore at that party, paired with a zipped-up hoodie. Her style was effortless. But then again, she looked good in anything, whether it was oversized clothes or her ballet outfits with leg warmers and leotards. That reminded me... did she still practice ballet? Or had she hung up her pointe shoes for good?

"Are you going to let me in?" Her words pulled my mind out of my thoughts. As we locked eyes, it was like our souls briefly connected. And through this the bittersweet history that we tried so hard to escape always stretched back and forth like an elastic band between us. It was painful. Painfully painful. It was moments like this that I regretted my decisions the most.

I let her through, trying to calm the erratic thumping in my chest as anxiety rose within me.

She stood in the middle of my room, unsure if she should sit down. The thought of sitting on my furniture probably made her want to gag in disgust.

"Are you going to fucking speak or am I wasting my time here?"

"Sorry," I let out as I opened my desk drawer. I pulled out a chair for her to sit down. She looked at it before hesitantly taking a seat.

From the drawer, I took out a plan written in neat bullet points. We now sat adjacent to each other. I could smell tobacco mixed with that infamous candy-cherry flavour. Just the faintest scent of it took me back to all the times we'd kissed at Lake Murphy. While I'd kissed many girls at University, none would ever compare to her. The years between then and now merely dissipated into nothing as the memory of each kiss felt so vivid like it was yesterday. How I'd give anything just to taste those cherry-flavoured lips once more. Just once.

I took in a deep breath. You fucking dickhead! It was beyond inappropriate to think about kissing Persy while knowing that she hated me.

•

"But what if I can't act when I'm not high?" I began to pace around the drama room.

"Relax. You're getting worked up again. Just try thinking back to when you were high and how you felt."

I tried but it didn't work.

"Fuck, Persy. I can't do it. The play's in two weeks."

"You're thinking too much, Killian." She placed her hands on each of my shoulders and pressed reassuringly. "You're not going to fail this class. You're going to pass. And you're going to do it completely sober. Breathe."

We took deep breaths for a few minutes. I felt my nerves slowly begin to wither away.

We tried the scene again. It wasn't as good as I'd liked but it was definitely an improvement.

As we began to put our shoes back on, I noticed a small limp in Persy's steps. My heart jolted at the thought of her despicable stepdad being the cause of it. It took every shred of my self-control not to call the police, and that control felt weaker with each passing day.

"Did you get hurt?" I asked in a semi-casual voice. Despite it being one of the core reasons for our friendship, I didn't want my concern for her to become another reminder of her pain. Plus, I made the mistake of asking where she got the bruise on her jaw from earlier today. She didn't answer but we both knew who. It felt like hell knowing there wasn't anything that I could do.

"I hurt my ankle in ballet. My pointe shoes have been dead for a while but I haven't saved up enough yet to buy a new pair. So, I've just been super glueing the fuck out of these but yesterday they finally gave out when I was doing a pirouette." She pulled out a shoe from her bag. It had been worn to shreds. The silk had frayed and the toe-box had split.

"Oh... How much are they?"

"About £70. They would've been 90 but that's for size 6 and above. Luckily, I'm a size 5 so I get the cheaper option. Still fucking expensive though."

The concept of money had never been an issue for me. £70 was like pocket change but to her, the amount was significant enough to cause an injury.

The next time we met up, I bought her a pair of pointe shoes. She looked at them in utter disbelief, fearing that if she'd blink, they'd disappear.

"No. I can't accept these." She pushed my hands that held the shoes back towards my chest.

"What? Why not? I bought these for you."

"Why?"

Yes, Killian. Why? Why are you buying gifts for her? Why is she occupying every space in your mind?

"Because..." I thought for a moment before splurting out, "I owe you, remember?"

"Owe me?"

"Yes. In the sports department. You said that I'd have to do something in return for you tutoring me."

"Oh." Her brows rose in realisation. "I completely forgot about that."

"Well, consider this my payment." I held the shoes out for her to take. She pulled me into a warm hug before whispering a dozen thank you's in my ear. When she pulled her head back, her arms still around my neck, I kissed her. The first kiss that wasn't part of an act or for practice. There was no meaning behind it, no expectation, no worry about if I was doing it wrong. Just four lips and two tongues intertwined with pleasure.

•

As I went through the plan for essay writing, I could no longer ignore the laser-like stare that seemed to burn into the side of my head. When I looked up, I was right.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Where are your glasses?"

It felt more like an outward thought than a genuine question. Why was that on her mind? She instantly looked like she regretted speaking but since the question had already popped out, she'd might as well stick by it.

"They're here." I opened the desk drawer once again and pulled out a pair of thinly framed lenses that I only wore when reading. Yes, I should have worn them as I was reading aloud the essay plan but I had already memorised the list in nervous preparation for this specific meeting.

"Ok."

I took this as an opportunity to expand on the potential conversation. "You know my sight's gotten much better than it used to be. Now, I only need glasses for reading and even then I can manage without."

Persy frowned. "Congratulations. It must've been such a burden to have fucked up vision when you were younger. I applaud you for your courage." She mock-clapped.

"But you asked-"

"I know what I fucking asked and I regret it. But I didn't ask for you to flaunt your good fortune in my face after all the shit you pulled."

"I'm sorry."

She opened her mouth to argue until registering that I actually had apologised. She must not have expected that.

It took her a moment to regain her thoughts before returning back to the sheet of paper between us. Was I feeling suicidal? It must've been the reason for why I decided to open my mouth again.

"Do you still do ballet?"

"No. I gave that shit up a long time ago." Her eyes didn't move from the paper.

Sadness filled my heart. Why did she give ballet up? Was it because of me? Was it because of him?

A billion more questions and confessions rumbled through my mind that I so badly wanted to let out. But I knew I couldn't. I'd lost the privilege of doing so when I picked my pride over our friendship.