The Story of Why

Keda - At Fault

~Keda's POV~

Sunday, after church was when I saw him again. He was waiting at my house, sitting on the porch. He was wearing jeans and a pullover with a cool indie band logo. I couldn't get used to seeing him without glasses. He still looked good, don't get me wrong. It was just weird, seeing him without them, it made him so different. It was like the biggest possible sign that signals that he's changed. It kind of hurt, knowing that it's true. That he has changed.

My mom, Olliver, and I all got home and saw him sitting there. My mom invited him to stay for lunch and we ate together. Drew was a little quieter than usual. He wouldn't jump at the chance to make a smart remark. He wouldn't laugh as much or make as much effort to make my mom or little brother laugh. But I could tell he was trying. Trying to seem...normal. It made me sad, knowing that he wasn't truly happy. I know he liked to be around me, but I also know that it's not enough to soften the bad things going on in his life.

We played on Olliver's ps3 in his room while he was downstairs, talking to my mom or something. Drew would grin and mock me about how horribly I played compared to his expert skills, and I, of course, gave a nice comeback about his inability to do anything other than play video games, and we would laugh together. For a moment, nothing seemed different. But then the laughter died and we were left, sitting next to each other, but not being able to speak simply because we no longer lived in the same world as we used to. He was there, and I was here, and we were together, but our minds were lost, far away from each other.

I glanced at him, causing me to lose, again. I could tell he was putting all his attention on the game, not wanting to focus on his own thoughts, probably. I suddenly got very angry and paused the game. That seemed to get his attention.

"Why'd you pause?" he asked, looking at me. He seemed a little dazed, as if he had been drunk on the game. It made me angry. He wouldn't have noticed if I left. All he cared about was the dumb game.

"Why don't you ever want to talk about it?" I asked, feeling more irratated at him than I had ever been.

"Talk about what?" he asked, innocently. He was playing dumb with me and it was pissing me off.

"Talk about anything. You just push down everything that's happened to you and pretend like it's okay. I know you're doing that just to protect me and be a hero and all, but you need to talk about it at some point," I told him. How does he expect me to help him and to know how he feels if he doesn't talk to me? How does he expect me to just stand in the sidelines and watch him crumble away?

He stood up, he looked a little ticked off at me now. "Oh, yeah. I just want to be the big hero. Sure. I just lost my mom and I've got a really shitty guardian, I don't see any heroism there, sweetheart."

I stood up, so he wasn't looking down at me so much. "I just care about you a lot, okay?"

"I care about you, too," he said, his anger draining out of him, very, very slowly.

"I'm just really worried about you," I said.

He seemed to get angry all over again. He threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. "There you go, again! Look, I'll talk about it when I want to, okay? Stop trying to know everything about everyone and focus on your own goddamn problems!" he said angrily. My heart was racing, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. He had a hard expression, that made me feel like I should run away. I'd never seen him look so angry, and seeing him like this drove all the anger out of me. I was scared.

I felt guilty about all of this. I shouldn't have tried to pressure him into talking to me. That was wrong of me. Tears welled up in my eyes. His expression softened immediately. For a second his face was a mixture of emotions. Guilt, shock, regret, horror. Then, in the next, his arms were around me. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry," he kept whispering in my ear, holding me tight against his chest. I just shook my head, tried to speak, but ended up not being able to use my voice and crying harder.

We managed to get to my room and we were laying next to each other on my bed. We weren't touching. Just laying, breathing, thinking. "I'm sorry," he said at last, breaking the silence.

"It was my fault," I replied simply.

He turned on his side and looked at me. I continued looking up at my cieling. "Don't," he said. "Don't blame yourself for other people's mistakes. It's unhealthy, and you don't deserve to feel that way."I turned to face him. I just looked at him, but said nothing. "I'm sorry I got mad at you, I just can't talk about it. Any of it. It's hard just to think about, but forming those thoughts into words? It seems close to impossible," he said.

"But you're forming them into words right now," I pointed out.

"This is different. I'm not talking about anything specific," he paused. "I'm sorry. I hate myself for hurting you, I'm sorry. I can't afford to lose you, because you're the greatest thing in my life and I love you. I love you and I want you to be happy and not to worry about me because you need to worry about you."

It took me a while to process all of that. My mind was still fuzzy from the fight and everything. I closed my eyes and kissed him. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close, never breaking apart the kiss. We cuddled and I fell asleep in his arms. The only place in this world that seemed to matter.