sick in love

im not good with confrontation

david's pov.

i laid tiredly on the couch, wishing i was physically able to go to school. i was in such terrible shape. my body ached, the slumped feeling you get after attempting to recover.

ester sat with me, she was done with school for today. the silence between us was ultimately comfortable.

"david?"

"huh."

"what's it like?" ester asks.

"it's something i'd never wish on another person ever, ester. absolutely terrifying, terrible, and everything you can think of," i answer, immediately assuming that was what she was asking. she nods, allowing me to know i answered her question. i guess now that i think of it i did give her the hard truth.

she stays silent for a minute and asks another question.

"what's it like to be in love?"

"it sucks, if you know they don't love you back, but it's also great," i answer blankly.

"i'm sorry," she says.

"don't apologize," i tell her. "it's not your fault, it's no ones fault."

the home phone rings and esters friends voice sounds through the speaker.

she's hesitant if she really wants to leave me here alone, she's honestly too caring.

"ester please go. i don't want to keep you here."

"are you sure?" she asks, concerned.

"i would never want you to miss out," i smile.

she smiles back and soon enough she gives me a brief hug and happily skips out the door, through the rain, to her friends, mothers car.

i was glad she decided to go. she needed to have fun and sitting here with me, feeling sympathetic all night is no fun. i was sick, and i was going to be like this for a while. so she didn't have to sit around and wait, no one should.

the house was silent other than the patter of the pouring rain. i began to sweat with the upcoming heat flash from a fever.

when you stay at home all day like these for weeks it became hard to stare at your phone, seeing things you've seen before. i become restless and i don't like it.

doing something i rarely ever take interest in, i began to read. the great gatsby. f. scott fitzgerald's extensive words came easily through my mind—what a fitting book for the rain actually. and the rain was non-stop. sometimes i wished i lived alone in seattle, i mean i loved the rain so much and the city lights were always a great wonder. the patter of rain and mixture of silence.. i loved it.

a half hour of being alone, turning the amazing pages, under a blanket—changing sitting positions every so often—and bearing the headache and annoying heat, a knock sounds at the door.

slowly, i get off the couch wiping the cold sweat from my face and go to answer it.

i open the door to see the brown girl, hair wet and the rain pouring down on her. the drops ran down her cheeks just at the same time as the rain did. she looked sad. my best friend sad. it practically shattered my heart. for once she didn't seem angry at me for keeping a secret. i felt like a mess even if i compared myself to the soaked and mascara stained cheeks, at least she was still better looking than me. i hated to see her like this and i have a feeling it was my fault.

i stood there speechless and she stood there the same, except tears ran down her face continuously.

"you- you," she shook, trying to utter out the words. "why didn't you tell me?"