Pieces

10. The Third Piece

a/n: There's a lot of history behind this one. This is where things really take a turning point in this story. Hope you guys enjoy!

"Where are we going?" I asked as I tried to keep up with him and failing miserably. 

He didn't reply.

"Can you at least slow down, please?" I said, annoyed, as I stopped to catch my breath.

When he realized I wasn't following him anymore, he turned around, his eyes dark and his dark hair glistening in the streetlight. It was clear he wasn't in the mood for a conversation. I hated when he got like this. First he'd ask me to hang out with him and then he'd be a complete jerk and pretend I didn't exist. I was sick of his crap.

Just as I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, his expression softened, the frown on his face slowly fading, as he walked up to me, looking into my eyes. "I'm sorry." He said. And I could see he really meant it.

"I'm not your dog, okay? You don't own me. I'm not going to follow you around like a lost puppy anymore, if this is how you're going to treat me. I am my own person and though I'm young and new to this place, I still have some dignity. And I'm not going to lower it for you anymore. So much for trying to be friends..." I muttered, suddenly feeling very angry at him. 

"I understand." He said, softly, his eyes expressing his guilt. "It's just hard getting used to..." He started. 

"Marcus was my friend too, you know. And he was close to me too. I don't expect you to understand when I say this, but I connected to him in a way I haven't ever connected to anyone." I said, truthfully. "Not even my friends back home. He was there for me through everything, good and bad and I think most of who I am today, is because of him. I don't think I would have been the same person if I hadn't known him." I paused, trying to choke back the tears that threatened to spill over. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, followed by a gentle squeeze. When I felt like I'd regained my composure, I continued, "What I'm trying to say, Antonio, is you have to know you're not the only one who's broken. You're not alone in this struggle. And that it's just as hard for me as it is for you because though you've been around longer, the bond I shared with him was so deep, that it'd have been enough to last a lifetime." I felt my voice breaking again. I dared to look up at him and immediately melted under his soft gaze, his eyes wet with unshed tears, of sympathy or pain, it was hard to tell. "And I keep trying... to... trying to make this work..." I swallowed, before continuing, "To make us work because I feel like, like if I have someone by my side, it might be just a little less difficult and that I might feel just a little more stronger." And then I broke down completely, right there in the middle of the street, right in front of him, crying for the first time in front of someone, baring my soul. I felt so exposed right then, I tried to make it stop. Just make it stop but I couldn't.

"Shh... It's okay to cry." He whispered against my ear, as I felt his arms engulf around me in a comfort hug. I don't know what it was about him, but it was like, in that moment I felt close enough to him, to cry in his arms, something I'd never done, even with my dad. And so I let him comfort me, as I kept crying, letting it all go, all the feelings I'd bottled up inside of me for so long.

I kept crying, until I was so numb that the tears wouldn't come. We must have been standing there for hours and I felt a little guilty for wetting his shirt, but never once did he complain. "I'm sorry." I said in a small voice, as I backed away from him, feeling a little embarassed for my little breakdown.

"Hey, you don't have to apologize." He said, as he brushed a strand of my hair out of my face. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing." He said, throwing me a sad smile. "Come on, now. I'm starving." He said, as he offered me his hand.