Sincerely

Cincere

Well, this is fucking awkward.

I thought I would have more mixed feelings about this. About him. But here he is standing before me, and just like him, I don't even know what to say. But I do know that I don't want him to leave.

I felt like I haven't seen him in forever, and staring at him makes me realize how much I changed, and how similar he looks to my old best friend. The sun hits his face perfectly. His sandy brown hair almost lights up and I can almost see his freckles from where I was sitting. He looks almost the same height since I last saw him, and his posture is no different either. He looks tense, threatened, and almost guilty.

I don't dare move. It feels like I have a cat on my chest and if I move just a little bit, it'll run away. I stay silent any longer, he'll run. If I say the wrong thing, he'll run. I cannot fuck this up.

I gesture him my half smoked blunt, "You wanna hit?"

He looks at the blunt then back at me and steps back, shaking his head.

Fuck. Okay. Bad move.

I put the blunt on the floor and stomp it out. Then, I scoot over on the bench, and pat the spot next to me. I look up at him, and try to smile as sweet and welcoming as I could.

He picks up his bag and starts walking away.

"Wait, Lee-", My feet moved on their own, and I don't even pick up my bag.

Then he starts running.

Shit.

I run after him, and I don't even know why. He probably wants to be alone or he just wants nothing to do with me. I know I should leave him be, but my feet thumping against the concrete tells me that my heart doesn't want to. I have to talk to him. I can't just not talk to him.

"Lee, fuck, why are you running? I fucking hate running!" I yell after him as I pick up my pace. I haven't ran in forever, and I swear I wouldn't run for anyone else in the damn world besides this guy.

He turns a corner, and I'm almost on his heels. But once I get to the corner, I stop. I can hear his harsh breathing, and it sounds like it's more than him just being out of breathe from running. It's sporadic and quick, out of place. Panic. My heart wants to jump into action and help him, but now my feet are stuck in place. He's panicking because of me, so I'm sure that he wouldn't want me around to witness his panic attack. He ran just to get away from me, and I haven't seen him run since we were 12 and he was chasing a kid while throwing rocks at him because he said something about my skin looking like dirt. I'm his problem right now. And the best thing I can do is walk away. Leave him be.

But that sounds fucking stupid.

I turn the corner and approach him slowly. I try to control my own breathing, since I wasn't really able to catch my breath. His back is against the brick wall. He's hugging his handbag, his glasses on the end of his nose, and he's trembling. And I don't think it's from the cold. He doesn't seem to notice me, either that or he's pretending I'm not there. A small part of me wants to hold him, or push his glasses up his nose. But I'm not stupid, I know that's a horrible idea.

Instead I stand next to him, not too close, but not far enough for him to feel alone. I lean my back against the icy wall, look down at my feet, and listen to his breathing. It's slower. I hope me being here is helping more than hurting him.

"Go away, Cin." he breathed out.

Well I guess I got my answer.

I chuckled softly and slide my back down the wall until I hit the floor.

"I'm not leaving you like this." I say. And I meant it.

I flinch at the sound of his bag dropping. I look at the bag then at him, and he's glaring down at me. Well, it looks more like his normal face, his glare is way meaner.

"Lee-" I started.

"Don't." he says. Sharp as hell. "Don't fucking call me that. Cin, what are you even doing here?" he steps closer, and I can see his face is burning red.

"I had to come back for my senior year. Homeschooling wasn't an option." I say, looking him in the eye. He always looks like a bomb that's going to go off. And the timer was always in his eyes.

"But why here? Why did you have to come back to Timex?" I could practically see him steaming. I can't tell if he doesn't want me to be here because he's concerned for me, or because it's inconvenient for him.

"I don't know, Lee. It's closer, I was already enrolled here, I didn't see a problem with coming back, and.." I trailed off.

I wanted to see you again. And maybe even start over.
I scratch my head, hoping the itch to tell him would go away.

Lee stares at me, "You didn't see a problem with coming back? Are you fucking serious?"

I sigh and look away, "Look-"

"No, I'm not going to sit here and watch you get harassed all over again. You're fucking crazy for coming back here."

My eyebrows furrow and resentment arose in my throat.

But you did nothing to stop it. You encouraged it. You fucking started it.

I swallowed it all, "Maybe I am, but I don't regret it."

I look back at him, and he's already looking at me. The cold air makes my cheeks sting.

"And I'm not mad at you, Lee."

He's silent for a moment, then he shakes his head and picks up his bag, "I don't give a shit if you're angry with me or not."

I stand up, "I put you in a bad position and-"

"Cin-"

"I'm sorry."

We both look at each other. We were closer than I thought we were gonna be while I was still sitting. It took me a sec to realize that we both said I'm sorry at the same time. It's kinda funny that we're still like that. Even after almost 3 years.

I try to smile at him. He backs away and grips onto his bag strap. I realize I don't have my bag, but I can't leave now. I have to say something. And he's not running away, so he must have something to say too.

"I'm going back in." He breaks the silence, and a bit of something else in my chest, "Don't say another word and don't fucking follow me. I can't be seen with you." He says without looking at me and starts walking away.

My heart sinks more than I expect it to, and as much as I wanna reach out and tell him not to go and that we can just talk it out, I let him go. The whole time he walks away, I hope for him to change his mind and come back, to at least hesitate. Or maybe even look back just once. But he never did.

I go and retrieve my book bag alone.

What a waste of a good blunt.