Between the Lines

Twenty-nine - Calvin

Nothing can explain how relieved I am to see Oliver, not even the fact that I can barely breathe through all these tears. Nothing can explain how happy I am to know he’s okay, or alive. Alive is probably a better way to put it. I loosen my grip the tiniest bit just to make sure I’m not hurting him. He looks so different. He’s so much skinnier, unhealthily skinny, his whole face is tired and sad and he has cuts and bruises all over him.

I want to know what happened. I want to ask so many questions and say all those things I never thought I would get to say to him. I want to apologise. I want to help. But I just need to be here for him now.

I feel his whole body shaking and his choked tears slowly soak my shirt. I can’t tell if he’s in pain or just overwhelmed, but I’ll be here for him no matter what.

Now that I’m here with him again, I’m never letting him go.

Even if this isn’t the worst scenario, it's still so fucking scary. He looks like he's falling in and out of consciousness. I can smell vomit and blood. I've never seen a single cut or bruise on him since I've known him. Now there's millions and his skin is so cold.

I move my head carefully, from hiding in the crook of his neck, until our faces are barely centimetres apart. Oliver sits back slightly, taking his arms from around me for the briefest moment to wipe his face with his shirt, then he cups my face with his hands and watches me. He searches my face as I search his. I can tell he has as many questions for me as I have for him, but neither of us break away from this moment. His eyes are puffy and wet with tears, his nose is red, his skin is flaky and pale, his lips are chapped and his brow is furrowed. He’s been hurt, so much, and I couldn’t help... no one helped.

I take another breath and speak through my shaky voice as his deep gaze studies my face, “Oliver, I’m sorry. I could’ve-”

He kisses me.

The kiss passes in a moment but lasts an eternity.

The kiss is simple and short, and means everything to me. It means he’s okay. It means he’s better now. It means everything is better now. It means that we are okay. Tears stream down our faces. Oliver holds me with shaking hands and I hold him.

I was so lost, so unsure of what I should do, but Oliver saved me once again, like how he saved me from my school, friends, parents and everything that was putting so much pressure on me, he saved me and gave me an escape from myself.

I ignore everything and just focus on him. I focus on him so much that I don’t notice the car driving up to us, until the lights are beaming us down. A large man steps out of the driver’s seat and calls out to us, “Hey kids, you’re in the middle of the damn road, you know that?”

I look up and try to see the man, past the light of the headlights.

“Look it’s dangerous yeah? So just get to the sidewalk. I won’t do anything about it cause my shift’s over, but you’s moving would be great,” he continues.

His shifts over? Fuck. His shifts over. He’s an officer.

Just my luck.

My mood changes in an instant. I’m not crying anymore, I’m just staring at this man knowing that he can ruin everything, knowing that I’d do anything to stop that. I hold Oliver closer as I glare at the man. There’s no way I’m letting go now, not after everything that happened. I can’t let go.

The officer steps in front of the headlights and peers at the two of us. He seems to be doing one of two things; scrutinising us or analysing what we look like and the situation we’re in. I look at Oliver and then look at the officer, only taking my hand away from holding Oliver to shield my eyes from the light that’s flooding over us, and watch him. I’m not moving and I’m not letting go.