24) Names

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Luck is weird. I abandoned everything to go on a long trip and some teens going to an empty mall by WCKD (allegedly on a bet that they couldn't do it and sleep there for $100) offered me a ride.

They asked me my name. Knowing better than to offer up any personal information, I obviously lied.

I didn't think about it though. It was on instinct, me already being back in my element.

Poet.

I told them my name is poet without actually realizing it. Without comprehending that he was right. I do respond to it as though it's my name.

I didn't think about it. I also didn't think about the way that meant people other than Aris would call me that. If they ever talk about me in the future, they’ll use his name. The one that meant so much, that had so much thought. Dare I even say, was sentimental.

I’ve never felt like this before a mission. I always collect myself, go over what I’ll do, and get prepared to make it as quick as possible. My mind is always at ease.

My mind is broken. It won't do what it's supposed to and focus. All I can think about is Aris. His genuine smile, and constant talking, and persistent nature, and pretty eyes, and soft laugh. It haunts me. Everything about him is haunting me, and I’m only a day away. Everything about him. How he was the first one to give me something without expecting payment, how okay it was to talk any way I wanted, how he had a wonderful outlook on life.

I’m not supposed to be soft anymore. This was supposed to fix that. It was supposed to give me my old self back.

I don't like this. I don't like how being away from him makes me feel bad. I don't like the way my throat tightens and stomach churns when I think about him.

I kept looking at Cain’s note to fix that. To make myself forget about him.

I can't. Nothing is letting me forget.

I feel awful about everything. Leaving him like that, yelling at him, insulting him, putting him in danger in the first place. I feel horrible.

There's nothing I can do. At least he’s safe now. No Cain trying to get to either of us, no Cranks, no girl who wouldn't admit she wanted anything to do with him.

That's what matters. That's what's important.

As I sit in this truck though, I can't help but think about him. How I jumped in one the first time with him, panicking and telling him way too much. How I had been so condescending yet him so understanding. How he had laid me on his lap and gave me his jacket on the next ride, not realizing I knew. How he had cleaned me up. How his head had been on my shoulder before, his eyes shut. How we asked questions that weren't supposed to matter.

If he were here, he’d offer to stay up and keep a watch on everything so I wouldn't be too paranoid to sleep. He would care despite not having to. He would sacrifice his own comfort and health for mine.

He’s something I’ll never be. He can show people he cares without a second thought. He’s kind. He’s empathic. He’s comfortable to be around. He’s fun. He’s lovely.

He’s everything that I’m not. He’s everything that I will never be.

He’ll move on I’m sure. He’ll live a nice life and settle in. He’ll smile and talk with his friends. He’ll find someone else to talk to.

Someone who isn't me.

Staring up at the stars, I thought about the way he had taken me to see them. The way we held hands. How nice they felt in mine. How he wouldn't say anything about it because I didn't want him to.

He spoke so beautifully. Very slowly but surely he was giving me different outlooks in life. Ones I didn't think even existed.

I want the stars to mean something again. To see them at the edge of a home when everyone but us was asleep with what must be the greatest person the universe has to offer.

Feeling something wet fall down my face, I searched the sky for any sign of clouds. Rain or storms or something or anything like that.

As my eyes stung with more falling, I knew better.

I haven't cried before. Not that I can remember. If someone was watching I couldn't show weakness.

Trying to be subtle despite the others being in the actual vehicle, I wiped my face with my hands, keeping my gaze at the ground. Forcing myself to take a breath, I tried to remember what people do when they need to stop crying. Is there anything to do? Is there any way to stop it?

The bad feelings somehow got worse, my throat almost feeling strangled but internally. My chest seemed heavy, like someone was stepping on it again. But also internally somehow.

Tensing my body, I tried to tell my shoulders to stop shaking as I bit down on my already cut lip, small sounds trying to escape. Not letting them, I shut my eyes as I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I don't do this. Ever. I never have.

Janson. I need to think about Janson and how to get rid of him. Not Aris. Don't think about Aris, don't think about Aris, don't think about Aris. Or Sonya. Or Harriet. Or the way they had been pretty nice despite not knowing me. Don't think about it. About the way sleeping in a tent was different. About how great it felt to have books so close by. About having someone who was always there to help if anyone was ill or hurt. About sharing that experience with Brenda yet us exchanging barely a few words.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.

Don't think about Aris emptying his pockets so I knew I was safe with him. Don't think about the way taking him back to the tent wasn't a fight or something that had me annoyed. Don't think about the way he wanted me to make friends instead of seeing me as property that can be discarded. Don't think about the way he was so patient with me even if he didn't understand why I did some of the things I did. Don't think about the way he put thought into what he called me. Don't think about the way he never judged me. Don't think about the way he saw more than a bloodthirsty assassin who could solve his problems whenever needed when he looked at me.

Don't think about the way he’s the first person to ever do those things.

Just think about Janson. About getting rid of him.

Just think about how tiring this all has been.

I’m tired.

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