Little Things

13- Cards

"Could you turn that down?" The question seems so simple, to anyone else it's a base line question with no hidden meaning but to him, I know he'll take it with all the attitude i'd never intended, asking regular things to him summons egg shells, testing my balance over the fragile material scattered around me, waiting for me to breathe wrong, look at him incorrectly, anything to influence the man to break, reminding me once more that he isn't the boy I once knew far to well

"Why exactly would I do that?" He pauses his music at my words, directing his attention to where i'm sat on my bed in our room

"To prove that you're not a complete asshole and have some regard for others"

"I have no desire to make sure you have a positive view on me"

"Right" I sigh, turning my attention back to my book, lacking the energy to take a blow to my self confidence without it being obvious

"Fucks up with you?" I see his eyebrows knot together out of the corner of my eye, his arms crossed over his chest where he's sat on his own bed

"Nothing, i'm doing swell" a lie

"Well that's bs" I cringe internally, two letters, an abbreviation for bullshit, a card game I taught him,  memories, so many of them.

"You don't care, stop waisting your energy acting like it" I shake my head, pushing my aggravating thoughts out of my head

"Trust me, I don't, just can't have to underperforming, we're still in a constructors battle"

"Everything's about racing with you, isn't it? Then again, it was four years ago, too" I close my book, placing it on the night stand before turning the lights off, my surroundings falling into darkness, a silent clue that our conversation is over although he clearly hadn't got the memo because as i'm beginning to relax into the mattress his light flicks on

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly how it sounds, Leclerc"

"Still stuck on that bullshit?" Can he stop fucking saying that word?

"Get over yourself"

"Sure, once you get over me too"

"You always surprise me, when I think you can't get more self absorbed, you do, it's fascinating, truly" I shut his light off, my jaw locked in annoyance begging to get out

"Didn't think that in f3, did you?" The light flicks back on.

"You have no right to talk about the past, it's irrelevant" I snap, forcing darkness once again.

"You seem to be quite stuck on something that you're claiming has no relevance" I don't answer, I have nothing to say.

I'm not stuck on it, not in the way others would assume. It's not like I still love him, or I struggle to get over him even now, it's not the 'emotions' attached but rather the lack of answers. It took me a while, sure, but I did fix the heart he'd managed to shatter, although even now, I can't mend the racing mind pleasing for answers.

The days together run on replay in the worst of times, reminding me of how real it all was. In my perception at least, with how each of the memories we'd built were genuine. The evocation isn't what's held my mind in a place far to long ago to be an excuse, what did was how it only took a day. If it was all so real, what happened? Something that made me feel more alive that I could have ever put into words shouldn't hurt me so bad I believed my worth was equivalent to that of nothing.