Pain Killer

27 ~ A Good Kind of Sting

I close the directions on my phone and stuff it into my pocket, glancing about the neighborhood with anticipation. I bite my lip, scared. Nervous. Giddy. And so sweaty. I rub my palms down my legs once again but it doesn't seem to help.

Why does this feel like a date? This shouldn't feel like a date. It's like the opposite of a date, so shut up brain, because thinking that this is a date is making everything way harder than it already is and a date is the last thing I need right now. But when I think about how I'm meeting the one I'm in love with, it makes me so nervous even though this is going to be such a painful event and that thought alone should honestly-

Twirling around on the sidewalk, I stop and my thoughts and heartbeat stall out.

The couple of weeks I haven't seen Uri seem to add so much age to his face. The freckles look darker, his eyes sadder, his smile shorter. That could be due to the weight of the situation. Patchy shade from the towering trees around us passes over him, making him blink as he finds me standing like a gawking idiot.

We hesitantly approach each other, taking small steps as if rushing will turn it all into smoke, like a magic trick. I study his red hair, a little longer now, and a brown hoodie instead of his common-place jean jacket. It makes me wonder if I look any different to him. Have I changed in the last bit of time? My hands touch the hem of my navy green jacket with the brass buttons. We're both wearing different clothes. I cut my bangs just above my eyebrows and bobbed my hair up to my ears. Maybe I look even more different than he does.

Uri takes a final step towards me, now just under a foot away from me. I can somehow smell the powdered donuts or perhaps that's my memories coming back. The smell is sweet and for some reason, it stings.

I'm not exactly sure what to say as the boy in front of me stares at me hesitantly.

I reach out my arms and he senses the gesture, silently closing the distance and pulling me against himself. His head drops towards my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Delilah." Uri squeezes his arms around my shoulders tightly as if ensuring that I don't disappear. "Thank you." I feel his fingers digging into me. It hurts so wonderfully.

I missed you so much. Why can't I seem to get the words out? My lips are frozen shut.

"I like your hair," he murmurs. "it fits you."

"Thanks." My eyes close to the sunlight and the suburban streets we stand on. But in an instant, we pull apart and I force myself back into a stable position, remembering where we are.

Zac's house.

White brick, a modest one-story townhouse. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Uri gives me a silent look as if hoping I'll tell him we don't have to do this.

"We came all the way here, didn't we?" I ask.

He only nods and we continue forward up to the door. A woven wreath hangs on the knocker, flopping against the door with the breeze.

My eyes fall to the mat under our feet that says wipe your paws.

Uri gently knocks on the door. I can see all over him, he hopes no one is home. He hopes they're too busy to answer the door. Perhaps they could be on vacation and he wouldn't have to go through with this.

The silent agony behind his guarded eyes is hard to look at. I can feel the apprehension as I stand beside him, resisting the urge to take his hand and squeeze it as hard as I can; to reassure him that he's doing the right thing. Why can't I utter it? Why are my lips so resistant?

The door creaks open within the next minute and I all but freeze up entirely.

Uri swallows hard, his knuckles tapping mine momentarily.