Sorry Not Sorry

-11 🐕

I'd shut up forever, and fade out of existence, never to be seen, only a story that real friends tell, huddled around a campfire, bugspray lingering in the air, s'mores in hand, snakes in the bush and dust under their feet. No sight of me though.

I dont get much sleep that night.

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I fall out of bed when someone knocks on the door, landing of the ground with a thump. The door creaks open a crack. "Are you okay in here?" Max asks. I stay silent, digging through my brain to see if today will be OK. Max waits through the quiet, speaking more only once I've lifted myself back onto my feet, "Need anything?" He asks, simply.

"Sit with me please? " I say, flipping back to sit on the bed, and he follows suit, sitting next to me.
I angle myself towards him, clamping my hands together. "I'm sorry." I say, tears slowly filling my eyes.

"You don't need to be sorry." Max says, leaning forward. "It's not your fault. It's no ones." He pauses.

"I was worried you'd leave me. Kick me out." I say.

"Can I tell you a story?" He asks, and I nod.

He sighs, leading down, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. "When I was little, I had a dog." He starts, "His name was Oska. One day, Oska ran away. I was devastated, but I decided I'd wait for him. I sat on my front porch step for hours on end, waiting for him to return." He picks at his nails. "He never came back, but I kept waiting until my sister forced me back inside, to eat. Even then I kept watch out the window."

"Are you comparing me to your dog?" I ask, bit he ignores my silly question, only laughing.

"What makes you think I won't wait for you? I didn't leave the dog." He says.

"You've only known me for three days... Why wouldn't you? I've been nothing but bad."

Max straightens his back, sitting up. He turns to face me. "You've been so much more than bad. Sure there's been bad times," he shrugs. "That's bound to happen, even without the 'Issues' you and I both have." He airquotes the 'issues' part. "But there has been good too." He says. "So much good." He smiles.

I wipe my face with my arm, and he stands. "You can leave whenever you want, and you can come back anytime you want. I'll be... Out there" he waves his hand, signaling to the living room. "I'm not leaving."

I smile. "Thank you." I croak. He gives my hand a squeeze then opens the door and sneaks out. I sit on the bed, taking deep breaths.

I walk into the bathroom, rubbing my eyes. I wet my hands under the tap, then splash my face. I wish I wasn't like this. I wish I was able to... Be normal. Max said he'll wait, but so what if he waits? I'll still blow up and ruin everything, no doubt.

I poke my pointer finger nail into my thumb, staring into the mirror. I take a deep breath in, then walk back into the room. I pull out my phone, then open my mums messages. 'Hey, can you pick me up?' I follow it with a message of Max's address. I shove my phone back in my pocket, then turn to face the bed.

I fold the sheets over, making the bed swiftly. I pick my bag up off the floor and unplug my charger.

I open the bedroom door with a sigh, entering the living room. "Morning. I'll be picked up in like an hour." I say. Danny is standing in their kitchen, and Max is sitting at the dining table , near the couch.

"Good morning." Danny says, and Max waves with a smile.

"Sorry about yesterday." I say. "And this morning, I guess."

Max smiles. "It's ok."

Danny wider "Not a problem at all, mate."

I sit down in the couch and pull out my sketch book. It's A4 sized, and has a black leather cover with stickers covering it. I open to a fresh page, smoothing it down with my palm. I usually use it to write character ideas down on the left page, and draw on the right. Though sometimes its different. I also usually try to draw or write something every morning, but that also doesn't always happen, like yesterday.

I pull out my mechanical pencil and rubber, clicking the lead out of the pencil.

I write the date in my crisp handwriting in the top left corner. Thursday. The next class is tommorow. I don't really have any ideas, so I decide to draw some of the plants I can see from around the house. By some, I mean all.

The first I choose is a potted flower, a peace lily. The drawing turns out good. Eventually, I've drawn every plant I can see, including the Lego flowers on the coffee table.

I feel a presence behind me the whole time I'm drawing, but I ignore it. Until Max says, "You're really good."

"Ah!" I jump, dropping my pencil down on the book.

"Sorry!" He says, leaning closer to look a t the book. He's standing behind me, at the back of the couch.

"I'm not really used to drawing plants." I say.

"Why are you drawing them then?" He asks, followed by "What do you normally draw?"

I chuckle, flipping back a page. "Uh- normally I draw character designs and stuff like that, and just jot down ideas for stuff here."

"Wow." He says, leaning closer. I can feel his breath on the back of my hand, which is rested on the page. "You're like- really good." He says, his eyes sparking, "Really really good."

I blush at the compliment. "Do you want to see more?" I ask.

"Can I?" He says, turning his face to gace me. "I'd like to." He smiles like a puppy dog.

"That's why I offered." I smile.

"Awesome!" He cheers, jumping over the back of the couch and flipping down next to me. "Any favourites?" He asks, clapping his hands together.

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