Bygone

17

Clypeum

Jaclyn rushed down the stairs hurriedly, frantically throwing her eyes towards where she last saw him; where she last abandoned him.

It wasn't right.

She was so goddamn stupid, she should've said something, done something, done literally anything.But she couldn't find him there against the cleaned floor.

It could matter less to her at all if someone knew she did this to him, she just needed to be there. She just wanted to be there for him after what she did, what she did knowing it was so wrong, so goddamn wrong. This should've never turned out like this, it shouldn't have resulted in this, in this much violence against something as simple and stupid as being considered 'uncool'.

Marcus was never the type to beg for help or even just ask for it, especially in times of struggle like this. So, he must've rushed over to the toilets on his own accord, he couldn't have just left the area with the way he looked, Jaclyn knew that for certain.

That's where she began to step towards swiftly.

It was all so childish. Why did they think of him as much lesser than them? What was it about him that was lesser than them? Why did she humiliate and mock him when she was given the choice between being 'cool' and 'uncool'? It was so stupid, so unbelievably naive.

Why was she this horrible of a person to lead someone on for months at a time into believing that she was worth being a friend with?

No, she was his friend. She was worth being friends with.

Jaclyn pushed her own thoughts aside, she just wanted to be there for Marcus, to show him that she still cares even if he'll never even believe anything she says again.

She was his friend–No, no, Marcus was her friend.

The air was as cold and pervading as it should've felt. She walked behind the building and to the rather hidden under-section that housed the home of several plants and flowers in their makeshift garden, seating and tables for community events and even a handmade pond for fish.

That same fear and anxiety that ravaged her heart was so much more prevalent and tarnishing now. Mere steps away from turning where she knew Marcus would be standing, mere seconds from witnessing again what she did.

And there he was, bent a little with his hand against his ribs and his benign, innocent white sweater battered with splotches of red that looked natural enough to pass as a design.

It made her heart so damn warm to see that he was at least standing, that he was at least still there.

Then she heard a whimper, and his other hand wiped against his eyes. She's never heard him cry before.

"..Marcus?" Jaclyn's stomach churned, watching as he fearfully turned towards her from a distance.

They were both caught in a trance, in the eyes of one another. Different feelings, different emotions, different expressions filled them. Although she could never be that same Jaclyn to him anymore, she'd be damned if he wasn't still the same Marcus to her.

There it came again, it fucking returned. A feeling festered deep within her again, clawing, scratching at the walls of her heart begging for her to grab hold of him, to keep him close and beg for forgiveness.

Jaclyn hated this feeling, she hated the power it had over her in this moment of vulnerability she hated the way she felt for Marcus now because it was exactly who she knew herself to be.