Survivin' - [B.C.]

Chapter 37: A Different Sort of Love

I smiled.

That was it. That was the end of an era.

========= SURVIVIN' =========

The night wore on, and it spread my patience thin along with it. That's one of the great tragedies of mankind; you can hold onto something good for so long, but eventually, it will become insufficient for you.

At 10:00 PM, a couple of people had left, but there was still an impressive amount of extended Cumberbatch-Hunter kin that remained in our house. I began to feel gross; as if I'd had my hands down in a sink that was just swimming with wet leftovers. I needed to get out. I needed to breathe.

Without throwing my coat on, I slid my feet into a pair of keds waiting at the front door, and then I slipped out the back. I hadn't made it further than five feet before I heard someone rushing after me. The snow screamed beneath my feet when I used them to halt and make a 180-degree turn.

Martin was standing on the back patio, looking at me inquisitively as he softly shuttered in his light winter attire. He crossed his arms in front of him, though it was more of a reaction to the cold than anything else.

"Where are you going? Are you okay?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just, uh... I just needed to get some air."

"There's a whole tank of it right there," Martin said, gesturing to the bag hanging loosely on one of my sloped shoulders. I made a face at him. He cracked a smile.

"It's entirely too cold out here for you." Martin continued as he took a few steps closer to me.

"I could say the same for you," I retorted. "Why are you so worried?"

"It's not necessarily that I'm worried, but I just want to keep an eye on you. You're interesting, Cal, and I wanna get to know you as much as I can, that's all I'm saying."

I felt by once-tensed body now go soft. I stood there in the night, staring into the eyes of one of my best friends, and I felt happier than I had the entire day.

"You're staring," Martin's voice suddenly cut through my moment of self-awareness. I scoffed and turned around, stalking down the path that led to the gazebo.

"Oh— come on!" The older man called after me. He grumbled as he followed my footsteps through the decaying foliage.

I jogged up the few steps to where the piano laid on its pedestal. I marveled at it in all its winter night glory, and then I sat on the bench.

"Scoot over," Martin said as he gently pushed me to the side with his hips. He took the now empty place on the seat next to me.

"What's up with you?" He asked. He nudged me when I didn't answer. I took a short, deep breath.

"Do you remember... do you remember the conversation we had at the New Year's party? The one where we sat in the little cave in the wall and I told you about the fight Ben and I had?"

"Which fight?" Martin asked with a tint of mischief to his voice. He made a good point.

"The— the one that caused us the drift apart for a few days after his sister's death. The one where he said that my parents never promised they would stick around my whole life."