Cracked Up

Connor

Gray.

Gray eyes, transparent and fear filled.

Ace.

"Ace!" I shout, sitting upright.

He jumps back, startled and shaken out of his skin.

"Connor." He says, breathlessly. He scurries towards me, enveloping me in a fierce hug. "Connor."

My arms wrap around him, squeezing. Right now, he is solid. He is the only thing solid. I'm holding, holding on for dear life. For dear love. For him. For me. I don't want to spaz again, and I'm exhausted, and hungry, and I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back. I don't want to know.

I don't want.

My hands find their way up Ace's spine and into his hair. I grasp and tug at it, and Ace's breath hitches. He pulls back from the hug, and looks at me funny.

"Why-"

I shake my head. I don't know.

Ace's mouth is clamped shut, his ears red.

"What's your name?" I say weakly.

"Ace Williams. You know that by now, don't you?"

"You don't look like an Ace. You look like a Trent."

"Trent's my father's name."

I crack a smile. "Really?"

"No."

I laugh quietly, not able to muster more than that. Ace doesn't seen to even crack a smile. I notice this and eye him carefully.

"Why don't you laugh? Or smile? Are you devoid of joy and happiness or something?" I ask, playing with the collar of Ace's shirt so I don't have to meet his eyes.

"No. I don't think so, anyway."

I can feel his eyes burning into me. He's openly staring, and I can feel his gaze travel along my face to my neck and along my arms to my hands. His eyes flick back up to mine and I refuse to look at him. I can't handle looking at those gray eyes.

It's too much.

He's too much.

No he's not, he's barely enough, he's barely present, barely here, and yet he's too present in my eyes I can't even handle it.

"You don't want to be here, do you?" I ask.

And suddenly, me touching his collar feels too intimate. I pull away.

"No. I don't."

I sit back, letting space build and grow between us. My hands are not touching him anymore.

"I'm not keeping you here. Feel free to leave."

He's indifferent. He doesn't even give me a flash of hurt.

He doesn't care enough to look hurt.

He nods, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him fidget. Then he gets up from my bed and walks out the door.

My eyes follow him.

And now, the only thing solid I had has left me to drift away into the atmosphere.

Because I told him to.