brunch

we're sitting across from each other at a diner. her eyes look up at me. there are tears in mine.

"it just reminded me that my friendships with them are deeper than i know; that people actually care for me. it's so easy to suppress that awareness, and to be self-destructive and do that when i feel the way i did. i went back there for the fist time the other day and she practically tackled me as soon as i entered. then i went to pick up my meds -- he was almost brought to tears. they'd MISSED me. i didn't know anyone could actually-- i mean i don't have to explain it to you. we've had a year and a half..."

i'm visibly emotive, not caring who sees my bewildered face. the archaic colloquialism "men aren't supposed to cry in public" flashes through my head, but i don't give a shit.

she reaches for my hand. we're always holding hands when we're here, and i love it. one or both of us is always crying here. if the staff gets annoyed every time they see us walk through these doors, then they're pretty damn adept at concealing it.

"...almost 2. and yeah, they do. do you know how EASY it is to love you?"

her touch is perfect. it always has been. i can't hold back, but i also can't make a sound. i can't make eye contact. i bite my lip.

her eyes are still on me, brows still partially raised.

"you almost died. it got so bad that you lied to me. you've never lied to me before. AND YOU ALMOST DIED. so when you told me you had one the other day... i was scared. i didn't know how to handle that feeling. and i know you can take care of yourself, but you weren't, and i was just..."

i'd known, because i saw it on her face that night. it's around 1pm, so 41 hours ago, almost exactly. i've always been able to read people fairly easily, but not as easily as her. all the oxytocin and prolactin flowing through me for the past 2 years ensured that.

i'm finally able to meet her gaze, my cheeks now dry.

"i just remembered something i wanted to tell you, but i can't right now. i'm too--"

i flail my hands, then point to my face. she understands.

-------

the lights i have strung up in my room always remind me of looking up at the stars for some reason, even though all we see are sparkles of white. for me, it's... ambiance. it turns my anxieties into apparitions. it sends loud noises, crowded people and lost personal space into a lockbox.

after the sun goes down, amalgamations of indigo and amber are what i live for. they're the buzzing of streetlamps, the warmth of a night sky.

they're... solace.