All The Things I've Never Told You

Maps

You stayed away from me for a while and although a dull ache began to set in from you being gone, my mind was a lot clearer without you around. But you could never stay away for too long, you'd always map your way back to me.

This time we found ourselves sat in my bathtub, my back pressed against your chest while I sat in between your legs. You kept combing your fingers through my wet hair as you softly hummed the soft tunes coming from the stereo in the living room.

I looked up at you from my position on your chest. Reaching up I kissed you on your jaw, your cheek and I just barely reached the tip of your nose. I sat up straight to grab the loofah to wash myself but you started drawing symbols and signs on my back as I giggled softly.

Your finger glided on my wet back, writing invisible words out as I pondered on what you were writing. Your finger abruptly haulted and your hand dropped from my back.

"Would you forget? If you could, would you forger?"

The sunlight composed melodies in your hazel eyes, curly wet hair falling in front of those hazels. Your features were soft but your voice held an agency that had no deadline. I wanted to hold you, to comfort you but I knew that would cause more harm then heal— who would hold you like I did when I was gone?

"No," I said shaking my head. "No, I wouldn't. Would you?"

You sighed, your soul heavy and your eyes about to weep. "Wouldn't it be better to?"

"Remembering would be your way of learning from this. But these memories will serve as something eternal for us."

"What if everything after this hurts?"

"Time will make sure that one day it doesn't hurt anymore. Listen," I said but paused to gather my thoughts, "if somehow you forget or find a way to completely erase me from your memories, I hope you are happy and that you know that I'll come back for you."

"If you could prevent the pain now by erasing the memories somehow or learning from the pain. What would you chose to do?"

"The latter," I said. "I wouldn't choose anything else, ever. Because I'd never wanna forget you."

You fell silent still sitting in that tub, water now becoming cold but we still sat there. You sighed before asking me to move so you could get out of the bath.

"I don't regret you, I never will," I whispered.

You stopped in your tracks and let the words soak in before you continued walking out of the bathroom.

-

"You should meet my mom," I said.

You had a book pinched between your fingers as you sat on the bed with your hair falling into your face. Your eyes looked up from the book to mine. You raised a brow in question.

"I just want her to know you."

You stayed silent but started readying yourself soon after you'd read enough. You seemed thrilled to meet my mom, a part of me was very proud to be introducing you to her.

My mom's house was always comfortable and felt like home, irregardless of all the horrible things that happened within its walls. After we had parked into the driveway you were hesitant to exit the car but I gave you a smile.

"Mom?!" I called into the house as I walked into the house, you following in-toe.

Honey blonde hair and caramel eyes peeked around the corner from the kitchen before her voice came, "in the kitchen."

My mom loved you, mostly she loved you for me. She'd thought I'd never like anyone or let anyone in after the whole collapse. She loved having someone to share dinner with, having us over cheered her up and I liked you a lot more as I watched you make light conversation with her and made her smile. It had been a while since she smiled.

Mom convinced us to stay overnight and I couldn't say no to her, if we were to leave she'd be extremely sad and lonely again, she'd recoil into herself again.

After dinner you spent time getting to know her as I set up my old room for you to stay in for the night. Once you had indulged my mom in enough conversation, she had retired back to her room for the night- we did the same.

You stepped into my old room, stepping into a snapshot of my younger self. You looked at the photo's of me and friends that adorned the walls but you stared more concentrated at pictures of a little boy who looked a lot like me.

"Is this him?" You'd asked as you traced the frame of the picture of two ginger-freckled smiling faces.

I nodded.

"He looks a lot like you," you'd said. Again, it was nothing but unfortunate to look like a deceased sibling and I recoiled.

You saw my recoiling because the follow up questions were answered in a curt, clipped manner.

"What happened?" you'd asked. "What really happened?"

"It was a few days away from my 17th birthday when I finally told my mom of what my dad had been doing; the rape, molestation and crude commenting. She was torn, she loved him but he'd done the unthinkable," I said. "She decided that a day before my birthday I'd move into the apartment I live in now and that she'd confront him and ask for a divorce."

You hung on my every world, eyes watching me talk and ears following closely. At that moment I was a rival of Shakespeare because my lips dripped something poetically melancholic.

"She confronted him, he argued. The argument was heated when I got home, after all it was my birthday and I wanted to spend it with Lloyd. She was so engrossed in the argument she'd lost track of where he was."

I breathed.

"I looked everywhere for him; in his room, in my room, in the yard, in the garden. But he wasn't there so I tried my last option, his sanctuary. This little fort he made in the wood behind our house, he usually swang on a tire over a stream to get to the fort."

A sigh.

"When I got there... there was no tire, so I wondered how he'd gotten across without it. But I looked into the stream and there was the tire."

A tear. Drop, drop, drop.

"But my brother, he was no where to be seen. The stream wasn't deep for me but for him... I lept into the stream, walking in shallow water and looking for my brother. His shoe, his teddy, his handkerchief; all discarded in the stream. I had hope he'd swam out but then I saw it..."

I weeped.

You held me, caccooned me in your safe embrace. You let me weep into your shirt as I clung onto you. You held me until I could speak again.

"I saw the honey blonde hair flowing in the stream. I ran home and called my parents, it was too late. He'd hit his head on a rock and drowned. Mom always felt guilty, she'd told him to go explore while she talked to our dad."