He Calls Forth the Better Feelings of my Heart

Winter Walk

Somehow, I had entirely passed out amidst my exhausting thoughts, the stress of the days before finally defeating me in their epic battle. I knew not what time it was when I finally awoke, though I had a sense that it was far later in the day than my usual rising hour. The pounding in my skull had been reduced to a dull ache, resting uncomfortably behind my eyes. My vision was blurred by sleep and my lack of glasses, which I found unceremoniously wedged beneath my pillow. The room was bathed in clarity at once when I adorned them, forcing my weary body to rise from the mattress into a sit.

"Victor, you are awake at last." Immediately upon hearing this soft voice, I turned my head to search for its source. There Henry sat upon the chair he had pulled to my bedside the day before. A novel rested in his lap, his hands folded neatly atop it. The moment our gazes connected, I felt a sudden and nerve-wracking warmth taking over my face. There even seemed to be a bit of a light tint to Henry's face. Flitting his gaze to his lap, he laughed softly. "Apologies for the intrusion... I-I just came to check on you and, well-" Cutting himself off, my friend simply shrugged and looked away.

Still adjusting to the sight of Henry, I simply mumbled an entirely too nervous, "Good morning, Henry." I could feel the heat of my face, not knowing if it was due to my dwindling fever or the sheer embarrassment. I had only just awoken, and my mind already spun with thoughts; How long had he been sitting there? What reason could he have had for joining me like this? The world seemed to close in for a moment, leaving behind only myself and my thoughts in a deep abyss.

At once, I was jolted back into reality by a sensation. I blinked, looking first to the source of the feeling: my hand. It rested atop my blanketed leg, and Henry's palm laid carefully atop it. When I looked up, I realized that Henry had moved from his chair to the edge of my mattress, sitting comfortably with a smile. Although I believed my face could not possibly go warmer, my cheeks went distinctly pink. My heart beat steadily against my ribcage, and thusly I swallowed down a lump in my throat.

When he spoke, my beloved friend's voice was soft. "... How are you feeling, my friend?" His words dripped with sincerity, a genuine concern behind his gaze. As I looked upon him, I could not help but wonder - would he still look upon me with such care if he knew of the terrible secrets within my heart? Surely not, especially after I had learnt of his mystery love interest.

Realizing I had, as usual, gotten lost in my thoughts, I managed to respond. "Much better, I believe... I feel much stronger and my skull no longer feels like it is ready to burst..." I laughed at my own misery, biting my lip as my gaze wavered down to our hands. Tentatively, through some miniscule burst of bravery, I just barely moved my own hand. Just enough so that my thumb grazed the side of his own. Even as I made the minute motion, I knew every part of it was wrong.

And yet, to my surprise, I felt the light pressure of Henry's hand grow tighter around my own. It was subtle, and yet I could not convince myself that I imagined it. When I tentatively returned my gaze to my dear friend's face, I was met with his own staring right back at me, his mesmerizing eyes holding a wistful expression. I found myself getting lost in his gaze, if only for a few seconds. The air around us hung heavy with unspoken words, my love clawing at my mind and begging to be let out. I could not allow it, and yet it was near impossible to fight.

Saving me, Henry simply spoke as if everything were perfectly normal. "That's wonderful!" His expression turned to a smile, that same warm and encouraging smile that he always held. It, like every other action Henry took, added yet another spark to the raging fire in my heart. "I do hate to brag, Victor, but it seems I was right! A bit of rest was all you needed to be healthy again."

"You love  to brag," I retorted, a smile playing on my lips. "But yes, I suppose you were right." The tension, the ever-present pressure of Henry's hand upon mine, still hung heavy in my mind like a drifting fog. But it was cleared, partially, by my friend's positivity. So much of myself longed to stay just like this, to go back to laughing and joking together as usual without the threat of my love hanging over my head like a guillotine's blade. That, however, could never be.