Dear Neveah,

15. Dear Neveah

Dear Neveah,

I wish I could say I don't want to feel anymore. So I'd stop caring. Or maybe I could take it slower. It strikes me at odd times, leaving me alone to wonder what he's up to. What he's doing to numb the pain. The pains that come from the rollercoaster ride of dizziness after suffering punch after punch. I'm falling fast and he doesn't seem to move to catch me. I don't want to feel because I'm scared I might not recover if I break again.

It's been a couple of days since I started following him to the Playhouse. I still wonder why they call it playhouse when it's practically pain they feel in there. Is it because it's a quaint little home? Is it worth following when I can't even help him up when he's beaten helplessly?

I didn't write yesterday because I was resting and getting over the fact that some perverts couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

Why do I feel like mum was aware of what would happen to her family? Like she knew it would break down to the lowest point. She made me take kickboxing practices claiming it would help me when it came in handy. learning kickboxing at twelve when I didn't want to finally proved worth it. I still knew lots of moves that could shoo the nightwalkers, pickpockets away.

The alleyway wasn't dangerous until yesterday. A couple of guys who were drinking and walking around aimlessly decided to use me as their target. I hope they still have enough energy to walk today. I feel proud of myself, I did a real good job with them.

I always had to leave before he had so he wouldn't see me. I know I can't do anything about it, yet. Will it be creepy to figure out a way to help him?

At school today, even before I saw him, the rumours about his bruises got to me and I wish I could defend him but I couldn't. In the hallways, in the cafeteria and everywhere. They attach his bruises to him being mysterious and dangerous.

I saw him play with the kids a week ago. Kiss their tiny foreheads. He smiled genuinely at them. He carries my tray at lunch. That's a sweet gesture if you ask me. He's a good person but he hides it from everyone and that's the problem. I can't defend him when he can't stand up for himself but I covered his scar.

He got to class before I did and upon scrutinizing him, a long scar stretched on the side of his neck. The small bruises on his face had healed which helped my nerves a little.

Our eyes locked and he gave me an apologetic look but what could I do? I ignored him and moved to sit next to him, a musky scent of smoke and mint stinging my breath. He smelt homey but why did he always have to mask the scent of smoke with mint gum? He's mysterious. Did he also not know that smoking isn't good for our lungs?

He wasn't paying attention, yet he made sure to make sure I also didn't pay attention. I paid attention to every little detail he spared. From drumming his fingers on the desk. Was it a song he was drumming to? A song that reflected what was going on inside him? To tapping his feet on the floor in a slow rhythm. It wasn't loud yet loud in my head. Trying to figure out what he was trying to do exactly.

I had a different class after that and we couldn't meet again till lunch. His hands were delving deep inside his pockets while he stood beside me, waiting for me to finish choosing what I wanted to eat.

As sweet as he is, he took the tray from my hand and led the way to the table, setting it at my usual spot and slid opposite me, with his face buried in his palms, making his scar visible.

Every once in a while, he would raise his head and stare at me for a few seconds before bowing his head again. Probably checking if I finished my food. Why wasn't he going to eat his salad today? Or he wasn't hungry. He only came to keep me company because he felt I'd be lonely. It warmed my heart so I decided to return the favour.

I finished eating quickly and headed out of the cafeteria with him closely on my heels. I did something I've always wanted to for long and he didn't even comment. I slid my fingers through his, in a tight knot, his warm palm heating mine. Being a head taller than me reflected in the size of his palm. Adorable long fingers overshadowing mine. It was nice.

I saw a small smile creep onto his lips but he changes it quickly and follows me to my locker, even hiding the expected surprised look. I quickly grabbed a concealer from my bag and dragged him outside where nobody could see us.

He raised his eyebrows at me in a questioning look and I smiled, showing him the concealer in my hand. Another smile slid onto his lips and this time, it was wide and held emotions. One I didn't want to believe. Appreciation.

Opening the small lid, I swooshed the brush nervously over the surface and covered his scar without him making the slightest comment but I knew he was grateful.

Smiling at my handiwork, he smiled back at me and walked away, with the same grateful smile on his lips. That was all I needed. All I needed. A true expression is better than a thousand words. A grateful smile was the best I could ever ask for from him.

Maybe this is my use in his life. To cover his scars. To make him bring out that dazzling smile. Even if this is my use, can I cover the scars in his life, his past or even his heart? Maybe.

Yours truly,
Alli.

How is it? They're becoming close and it's warming up my heart. I love Lucas  😩😩

Please vote and comment, just tell me what you think. Your vote is going make my day. Please vote 🙏💯❣️