the sun always rises || dybala

05: whenever, wherever

sabato 00:37

You know how in every television show there is, whenever the girl cries, the guys always has to take her back to his place and then they kiss? Like it's the norm to take a girl back to your place in her most vulnerable state?

Paulo said fuck that, and he took Charlene back to her own place because of course, you'd want to go in the comfort of your home if you were crying. He knows how to treat a girl right.

Maybe.

Because Charlene's lying on her couch crying while he's sitting right at her feet, panicking because he doesn't know what to do.

"It's okay, Charlene, it's okay!" he rubbed circles on her back. "Okay, I don't think I'm making this any better. Sorry."

What is he supposed to do? Is he supposed to call an ambulance? Take her to A&E—no, now that he thinks of it that's a dick move. He should let her decide for herself, but he's not so sure that he should leave her alone.

But then, he should be comforting her. At least doing something other than rubbing circles on her back—does she think it's annoying?

"Um..." Paulo stuttered, letting the words escape his lips. "Should I call someone? I should—I should call the suicide hotline, right? They're trained and—"

"No—" Charlene said, the first word she's said since breaking out in tears on the bridge, "does it look like I want to talk about my life problems with someone I don't even know?"

"Well, they're trained and professional—"

"No, Paulo." She sat up, breath still hitching as she rubbed her now-red eyes. At first, he thought she was finished crying, but of course Paulo's always wrong and she's back at it not even ten seconds later.

Should he...call someone? He's not really sure what to do now. I mean, she doesn't have a boyfriend, he doesn't know any of her friends, and she's far from home. What could he possibly do to have her at least stop crying?

"It's okay, Charlene," he rubbed her back comfortingly. "I care about, okay? You're a good per—and you're crying even more, okay—everything is fine."

Come on, Paulo! You can do this! What does someone want after crying a lot? A dog? A boyfriend?

Ice cream.

"Hold up," he told her as he left the couch to wander into her kitchen. Her simple, small kitchen with beige walls and little cute magnets on the refrigerator as he opened the freezer to find more than enough pints of ice cream. Vanilla, strawberry, mango sorbet, chocolate chip cookie dough—you name it, she's got it all.

Christ, this girl must either love ice cream or she has a problem with ice cream, he's not sure which one but it doesn't matter.

He quickly snatched two pints—one for Charlene and one for him, of course—and some spoons before trotting back to her, seeing her finally calming down her mini breakdown.

Her eyes were red, cheeks awfully stained with tears, and she was sniffling. It's a horrible sight to see—someone right after an emotional breakdown and there's nothing much you can do. For once, Paulo feels useless. He doesn't have the experience to handle this, but she obviously needed someone, and he's not leaving anytime soon.

"Here." He handed her the pint and spoon, sitting next to her as she nodded silently and breathed shakily.

What just happened? he asked himself.