Stuck with me

neuf - change

Valerie

It was Wednesday, January 24th, 1990. The middle of the week. Normally, I'd be stress free, content in knowing the week was halfway over, but today was the day I explain myself, and I've never wanted to do anything less than I do right now.
Seeing the light reflect off of his raven tinted hair already had the anxiety in my stomach setting off like fireworks, but I kept waking to him.
"Uh.. Billie?"
The words scraped at my throat. Watching as he turned to face me, I was so tempted to bolt off.
He didn't say anything as he looked at me, green eyes full of curiosity. Already, I had tears pooling around the brim of my eyes.
"Jesus fuck. God, I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry."
I already felt like shriveling up into nothing. All I could do was stand there pathetically, my head hanging down and tears dripping onto the concrete. I regretted even taking two steps in his direction.
"Valerie, why're you ap-"
"Because! Because.. Jesus Christ, Billie. All I do is push everyone away and.. fucking forget it, okay? Jesus, fuck... I'm so dumb."
My fingers were tangled in my hair, threatening to rip out a handful any second. I breathed shakily, and uneven, and he still didn't say anything.
"Val, would you stop that?" He said, pulling my hand away from my head. "Where have you been? Why weren't you at school all last week?"
"I stayed home."
He looked up to the sky for a second, as if I'd stated the most obvious, because I had. "Yeah, no shit. I mean why, though."
And again, I was left feeling cornered.
"I don't know," I lied horribly.
"Tell me."
The lump in my throat rose. I nearly lost all self control just then, but I remembered why I was doing what I was doing and why I was doing it; not only for him but for myself.
"I didn't want to see you."
And it was as simple as that. Or maybe it wasn't. I hoped that he wouldn't take it the wrong way and began to over-analyze it.
"Look, i don't even think I realized i freaked you out the other night.. I was really buzzed. Not that that's an excuse, but-"
"Shut up."
He looked totally awestruck. "What?"
"My mom died when I was fucking eight, okay? And ever since I have been really incapable of keeping anyone around because I've been too much of a pussy. Do you realize how fucking scared I am of losing people? And no, it's not even just my mom. My dad too. He's not himself anymore.. God, it's like he's been fucking brainwashed or something. He's like a robot. And I do not fucking ever want to lose anybody else so instead I just make sure they lose me."
He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Jeez, Val..."
I was crying. And I didn't say another word after that. I stood there like I was, except more vulnerable than before, and I hated it more than I've ever hated anything before. It was an awful feeling; being so helpless.
"Hey.. look," he said, beginning to take off his leather jacket that even fitted him somewhat loosely. "It's too cold to be standing out here in this disgusting ass courtyard. We can ditch, okay?"
He draped the jacket over my shoulders and held me closer to him, and yet, all I could do was nod. I practically felt like a toddler; childish and crying over something so small.
About thirty minutes later, we were out of the courtyard and inside the Armstrong residence. It hadn't taken me long to realize he was part of a working class family.
"How do you like it?" He teased. "Mi casa su casa."
"You don't even take Spanish, doucheface," I laughed.
He let out a chuckle. "Yeah, but I at least know that much."
I was pretty fascinated by his house. It was a lot smaller than mine, and there were pictures practically hung all over the whole wall. I guess it was pretty cool to see something different for a change. At my house, I see the same shit every single day.
"Uh.. You, uh.. Wanna go to my room or something?" He asked hesitantly. I nodded in response, dragging my feet behind him all the way up the steps.
Billie's room was small and it smelled like him. He had posters of everyone from The Who to Hüsker Dü, and I'd never seen anything more beautiful.
"Your room is badass," I said. "I only have posters of John Hughes movies and Morrissey.. and I think I have one of Social Distortion, maybe."
He laughed. "I have a whole stack in my closet. I'll give you a few, if you want."
After looking at his poster collection and taking a few to be my own, Billie decided he was going to finish our conversation from the courtyard.
"Listen," he said hesitantly. "I know this isn't exactly what you want to hear, but uh.. I meant what I said outside of the Longview house, Val. You might be stubborn as a damn bull, but you will never be able to get rid of me."
I swallowed. "I just don't want you to go."
He sighed, followed by a small laugh. "Why would I?"
"Because! It happens every single time. And knowing me.. well, one day it's bound to happen. I know it. It's just a matter of-"
"No. No matter what you do, you'll never give me any reason to go. And if I do, then obviously, I would've turned into a poor bastard and you will have been proven to be too good for a man like me."
My head couldn't wrap around it. Billie was the only person to ever had wanted me to stay; for everyone who I pushed away had let me. He pulled me closer instead.
I began to cry. And he stood there and smiled, and offered me his open arms, to which I took the opportunity.
Things were changing.