smile | cth

1- the thing about pain

The battered copy of The Fault In Our Stars sat in his large hands on the desk opposite me, like always. His beautiful brown eyes were glued to the pages, like everyday. His long fingers hold each delicate sheet of paper in anticipation, waiting to read what happens next, even though he knows fine well how it all ends. 

I could see his eyes scanning over every page, yet I know he's taking in every single detail. He was flicking the pages over in an inhuman speed, and yet, I know he's read every single word. 

It must of been well over the 150th time  he's read it, which sometimes makes me worry. 

I've seen the maps, diagrams and essays he's written about character development and plot lines. I've seen it all, I've seen him stay up until three in the morning pouring over the tired copy of his favourite book. 

I've seen him slyly swap his copy of Goodnight Mister Tom for the book he's now holding during English, just to read it again. I've watched him hide it in his lap and sneakily read during family meals, I've listened to him whisper his favourite scenes to himself to send him to sleep. I've seen the scribbling of his favourite quotes and lines that he does on his wrists when he's bored. 

You wouldn't think of him as a romance kind of guy, but he's assured me that this book is more than that. Apparently it's about trust and confidence, and how one person can make you feel so much. It's about friendship and relationships. 

Almost every time he reads it, I watch tears form in his eyes. 

So that's kind of how our friendship works, most of the time I'm just watching, or seeing, or listening. I listen to his endless rambles about Hazel and Augustus, about his constant fights with his parents, or even about how crappy our school system is. 

"Calum, could you help me with this please?" I whisper, sliding my Physics homework across the table to him. 

His eyes take a moment to move from his book, before finding my homework and his fingers grasp my pen. 

He's one of those annoyingly brilliant all round students. The only subject he struggles in is History, and maybe that's only because there's already so much in his wonderful brain that there just isn't space to record all of the dates and names. To him, that stuff isn't a priority. 

It's only a few seconds before my physics stuff is returned to my side of the desk, and his eyes are returned to his page of the worn book. 

I've always seen him like the universe, so absolutely full and bursting with ideas and theories, that there's no way a normal human like me could possibly explore everything. It would take years for me to understand even half of his reasoning, never mind his entire extents of knowledge. 

He's not just book smart, he's people smart too. Slightly socially awkward, yes. But he's capable of picking up on someone's hidden emotions the second he lays his melting brown eyes on them. 

The drive home is quiet, but at least he's finally put away his book. We're headed back to my house, like always. 

Calum doesn't get on with his parents very well, and for some reason, neither do I. I never have. Even before he started fighting with them, I could always tell something was up. As an 11 year old, I used to choose to walk for fifteen minutes home rather than get a lift from one of his parents. As a 14 year old, I would invite him to sleep over at my house every weekend, just because I knew something was up with his parents. 

Now, as a 17 year old, I know that Calum and his parents can't be alone for little more than an hour without jumping down each other's throats. I don't know what it is, but I know that something makes them strongly dislike spending time with him, and he, them. 

"Do you believe in happily ever afters?" He asks quietly, dropping his school bag by my bedroom door and lying back on my bed. He fails to let his eyes meet mine, and I know instantly that something's up. 

I've known Calum since before I can remember, and it just so happens that we grew up and developed into the same kinds of people, with the same interests and same hobbies. 

Shrugging, I move my body closer to his and lie down beside him. "Maybe. I think, everyone gets what they deserve, and we all have to sacrifice something to find happiness."  I turn my head so my eyes meet his beautifully carved cheeks. "Why? What's up?" 

A sigh escapes him and his shoulder curl in. I notice the words  'that's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt' scribbled along his left wrist, which breaks my heart. 

"Cal..." I whisper, quickly sitting up and gripping his hand. Holding hands is not something we normally do, but I need to feel him here with me. I need to feel the pulse in his thumb as I hold his large hand in my small one. 

"I... We don't always get what we want, you know." He closes his eyes tightly and swallows hard, his Adam's apple moving as he does. "See, I wanted parents who love me... But I won't get that." 

I shake my head and do something I haven't done in so very long. "Calum, I'm going to be honest. Your parents should probably show you what you mean to them a little bit better. But Cal, you have other people. Mali, Michael, my parents, my brother... Me. I love you. We all love you." 

His eyes flutter up so they meet mine and a smile forms on his face. "I love you too." He kisses my forehead and leans back. 

Then, he stands up, grabs his bag and leaves.