Schizofriendly

He was suicidal when i met him, so I can't really blame myself for much. Running into him was an accident; it was merely by chance. But honest to God, it was the best chance I've ever gotten.

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8. ~8~

I couldn't tell you how long it was, but it felt like forever as we sat there, my arms around him. We didn't speak, we didn't move, and in my case, I didn't breathe. 

 

What could I possibly say at a time like this.

 

"Evan, I--" was all I could say before he turned around and embraced me, pulling me into his lap.

"I'm sorry, Shae," his voice is muffled by my hair, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

I could form no words. The feeling of his body against mine, or any body against mine, is foreign. The way his hand held my head gently; his other arm curling around my waist. I could faintly feel him drawing circles on my hip, even through such thick clothes. That is how sensitive I am to him right now.

"Please say you'll forgive me, Shae."

"Of c--"

"And not just this once. I'm probably going to do a lot of bad things in my lifetime, but you've gotta forgive me for it," he hugs me tighter. "Everyone else in my life has given up on me. Please don't leave me like they did."

His words are a whisper, almost like a secret. I feel something lightly pad on my shoulder: a tear?

"I won't give up on you, Evan," I comb some of his curls through my fingers.

He pulls back, looking at me. I can see a glimpse of the war waging on inside of him.

"Do you mean it?" his voice is accusatory, but his face looks pleading.

"I mean it." The look on his face tells me he doesn't quite believe me.

"Hey," I take his hands in mine, earning his undivided attention, "you can trust me."

One corner of his mouth turns up in grin.

"Now," I help him up by the hand, "let's go clean up the kitchen."

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