Paris Wills is a dreamer. His father always said he got it from his mom, an artist who was unlike any other. Her virtue was painting, and Paris' is poetry. No matter where he is, Paris finds inspiration for his poems.
In the summer after his sophom...
A rush of terror jolts me awake, the sound of Gray's terrified screams ringing through his bedroom. Sobs spill down his face as he reaches out for me with flailing arms. In my dazed state, I sit up and pull Gray into a tight embrace, soothing him with the gentle caress of my hand on his hair, slicked back by cold sweat. His startling wails start to ween down from the reassurance of my soothing touch. Shaking, Gray loosens from my grasp and stares at me with streaks of tears drying on his cheeks.
"What's wrong?" I whisper calmly as I wipe away the snot trail dripping down his lips.
Gray tries to talk, but another sob overcomes him, rendering him speechless. I bring him back into me, letting his chin rest on my shoulder. With his mouth against my ear, he musters, "I couldn't save her. She died because of me."
I realize now that Gray must've had a nightmare about Tessa. I'm not surprised. I still have some nightmares about my mom after all these years. It's not surprising for Gray to blame himself. Even though we both know we can't blame ourselves for things out of our control, there're times when it's impossible to see anything but the irrational.
Life is a very delicate thing. It can break as easily as glass. One moment, you're a beautiful gleaming piece of art. Then, the next thing you know, you've splintered into a million little shards, brushed away by the broom of death. You can't blame yourself for the inevitable. Sometimes you just need that reminder.
Tears fall once more, but I give Gray a tight squeeze and use my finger to draw figure-8s on his back.
"It's not your fault," I speak softly, "There's nothing you could've done,"
"I know," Gray replies with a sniffle, "It just felt so real. One moment she was there, the next, she was gone. And I couldn't do anything to save her."
All I do is lie there with my boyfriend, rocking him back in forth as we sit on the mattress, the full moon maintaining its strong glowing gaze.
Soon, Gray's weeping slows, and we're laying down in bed, the sheets pulled up to cover our goosebump-ridden skin. I'm still holding Gray in my arms, placing his head under my chin, protecting my love and keeping him warm, helping him through one of the toughest nights he's ever experienced. I want to be there for all those experiences - good, bad, and everything in between. I need to be there. There's no doubt in my mind.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
