curious cat | randy

133

I ran until I had no choice but to pause, legs on fire and lungs burning for air. I used to jog a lot – Not because I thought I could run away from my problems – I knew well enough that they'd follow me wherever I went – But because I liked the pain of it, how it reminded me that I was alive. I liked when it hit the point where the ache faded away, when it became just me and the world outside and the rare feeling of clarity in my mind. I liked seeing what my body was capable of, liked knowing that it was good for something, even if it ultimately got me nowhere.

            It had been months since my last pleasure run, though, and I had started to fall out of shape, and I was paying the price for it. Not to mention that I was in an area that I was unfamiliar with, and I wasn't quite sure where I was headed, other than away. Away from the pain that I was sure to inflict; away from the one person I most wanted to be close to. Life was a bitch like that sometimes.

            It was only when I had stopped that I heard the panting voice behind me.

            "Oh-" pant "My God." More heavy, labored breathing. "I have asthma, you know. I wasn't built for this."

            "I didn't ask you to follow me," I said without looking back. I already knew who it was, and I didn't know how to feel about it. My chest felt tight, almost as if I was about to cry again.

            "Well," He said through more deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. "I did anyways."

            I looked at him now. The sun had set, but there were enough street and store lights on that I could see him anyways. He was slightly bent over, hands planted on his knees, as if even standing upright was too much energy after running had drained it all out of him. Sharp shadows cut across his face, and his hair had several wild strands that had fallen out of place, and he was still absolutely, achingly beautiful.

            "This is what it's like you know," I began, even as the words scratched my throat on the way out. This was to protect me, to protect him. It was the right thing to do. "Being with me."

            "That's okay," Andy said, slowly straightening himself. "I clearly need a little more exercise, anyways." My heart twisted at how hard he was trying.

            "You know that's not what I meant." I hated how sad my voice sounded, at how weak he made me.

            "I mean it. Rye," He said softly, taking a cautious step forward. "I made a promise that I would've leave you, and I meant it." He stuck his hand out, and it took me a moment to realize why – His pinkie was out, waiting for me to link mine with his in a pinkie promise. It was childish, and in no way a guarantee that one's word would be kept, but it still made my heart feel a certain way. I had never done one before, never had somebody who would want to keep a promise for me.

Andy waited, hand still outstretched, shaking slightly, through my reluctance, and I couldn't lie to myself. It felt good to have someone who was willing to wait for me. Andy tried to hide his happiness when we met in the middle, but I could see it in the way his eyes creased, in how the corners of his lips quirked up. Somehow, despite everything, I was still able to make him happy. If I didn't know any better, didn't already know that things would fade, I would want to stay, just to continue finding ways to make him smile forever.

            He didn't even move after our shake was done, and we were close enough that I could see the different layers of blue in his eyes, darker around the edges and then gradually growing lighter towards his pupil. I realized I was staring and looked back down, embarrassed. I could see his chest moving up and down as he breathed, and the tips of his teeth as he bit his lip. I had been afraid of proximity for my entire life, but being here with him, so close, was like watching a masterpiece come to life.