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Did he get home safe?
He was drunk. And alone. So is he safe? Did he get the bus? Did Georgia pick him up? Did he go back inside the house?
He's safe. He has to be. He has to be.
But there's no way for me to know for sure, so all I can do is wait.
I'm back to gossamer, to walls that don't want me and floors that barely hold my non-existent weight. I'm running towards the doors the second I comprehend what just happened, but it comes into play: the same force that always stopped me from screaming and touching and returning home keeps me locked in this prison now, apart from Theo and alone only with painful, rolling thoughts.
I range from five years old to fifteen to fifty without even realising it, running the length of silent and empty corridors or just lying on my back and staring up at the filthy ceiling. Sometimes screaming, sometimes sobbing, even though my death won't let me make a sound.
Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo.
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I think about all the things I could've said to keep him wanting me.
"There's nobody I care about more than you." "You're all I have left." "The fact that you mean so much to me is the reason I'm doing this."
"You are worth it."
Sometimes angry things, too. I call him selfish and childish and petty and demanding and petulant in my head. "You haven't lost like I have - of course you don't understand." "We barely know each other." "Stop relying on people to make yourself happy and start working out your own fucking issues."
But it all just comes back around to how fucking much I wish I was at his side.
I don't know how time passes, but it's daytime when I feel a tug.
I'm sitting near the cupboard where I found James (they turned it into a classroom years ago, leaving the memory of what happened to him in my mind, the mind of the man who assaulted him and maybe even James himself) (although I doubt it). At first, I ignore it.
But then I feel it again, slightly more insistent. Then again, leaving me slightly nauseated due to the distance.
I stand and head towards the doors, slightly lessening the yanking in my gut by doing so. The front doors won't open so I just sit with my back against them and wonder who's calling me. Either it's Theo, or it's another kid and I'm back to not existing for good.
About twenty minutes later, the lock starts to click and I leap to my feet, footsteps not even echoing. The door's opened by some staff member and the students start to file in.
And that's when I hear the words: I miss him. I don't want to be alone. I want him.
Five minutes later, I see a head poke out from over the rest. Black hoodie, headphones, dark curls spilling out from underneath.
Theo.
He's right about me being a coward. Because the second I see him, I turn and run.
I can't face him. Can't face it: the possibility that I won't exist to him anymore.
I run to my locker, which also happens to be his, and wait there for him, doing my best to ready myself. It doesn't really work.
He walks up to me, eyes down. Without glancing at me, and therefore heightening my anxiety, he punches open his locker and grabs a few books before slamming it closed
I think he's going to turn around and walk to his form room, but instead he stands still, staring at his converse.
"Are you there?" he mutters, mouth almost unmoving like a ventriloquist.
I'm here. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.
"I forgot you," he mutters. He grabs his phone and holds it at hip-height, probably looking to a passer-by like he's just staring at the screen even though it's black and blank. "I forgot you, and I went home not knowing why I was sad, and then I saw that shitty painting of you in my cupboard and it clicked. So if you're there, and you're listening, talk to me. I think we need to talk."
I open my mouth to say something, forgetting for a moment that I have no words.
He sighs, shaking his head, and walks right through me with cloudy eyes.
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So, because I'm a self-destructive idiot, I follow him around.
(Don't Get Attached was thrown out of the window long ago; I'm attached, trapped, and by this point unable to let go.) And, because I'm crazy, I talk to him in my head.
"Did you know I've known you for four weeks today?"
"Such a short fucking time, right? But I feel like I've known you forever, because you're literally the only person I've emotionally and physically connected with in decades. Funny, huh?"
"Have you made up with Kyle? Are you dating now?"
"Stupid question. Don't answer that. Which you can't anyway, because I'm not actually saying any of this."
In his art class, while he's staring at a sheet of paper like it insulted his mother, I try to hold his hand. He flinches but doesn't react further. I very nearly cry, but at the same time I feel too empty.
He's tense while walking to English, and I soon realise why. The chair next to Theo's is empty as he sits down, staying that way throughout the lesson. Kyle, who he used to sit next to, has moved sit next to some girl on the other side of the room. Both of them - Kyle
and Theo - look so miserable, looking away quickly every time they make eye contact, that I feel nothing but terrible for the mess I caused.
I had good reason. I did. Because this situation we're in now is the exact one I foresaw, (except I didn't imagine Theo would be as aware of this separation as I am). But that doesn't mean I don't feel awful.
During the break, he goes looking for me. At least, I think he does. He walks around the school aimlessly, craning his head and flitting his eyes about the rooms and the corridors and the field, while I walk alongside him. I occasionally smack my hand through his face or his arm and even his ass, once, just to try and be funny, but he does nothing except pull his jacket tighter around his shoulders and look around during the latter instance to see if he's being assaulted. And it's not funny.
Near the end of the break, I can tell he's given up. And it crushes me, admittedly, because it feels like a sign of things to come. He's going to give up completely one day.
We sit under that tree where I first noticed Amber, back in those beautiful and shockingly recent times where he could still see me and I could still feel his body against mine and talk to him about Star Wars like there wasn't a clock counting down the hours we had together.
Just as Theo starts to eat his orange, none other than the girl herself comes storming up to him.
Amber sits down in front of Theo and lights a cigarette, giving him the evil eye as she sucks in a lungful and breathes the smoke on his face. Still glaring, she taps the ash out by his feet. It ends up passing right through my toes and resting on the grass.
"Dramatic," Theo says, making me smirk despite the crushing sensation in my chest.
Amber's eyes tighten. "What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?"
Theo stares at his lap, all traces of humour vanished from his eyes. "I didn't do anything," he mumbles.
Amber leans forward, cupping her hand over her ear mockingly. "What was that?"
"I didn't do anything!" Theo snaps. His chocolate skin flushes as Amber raises her eyebrows. "I didn't do anything, okay? Kyle kissed
me. I didn't mean to hurt him. But I don't like him like that."
"Good."
"Good... good what? Do you like him?"
Amber rolls her eyes. "Men. You're all so end-of-the-world dramatic. Honestly, I don't give a fuck. But if he happened to see anybody in the world except you, I wouldn't be opposed to it."
Theo looks somewhat shocked and even more upset than he was before at this news, but his expression quickly irons out.
"Thanks, Amber, I was looking for my daily dose of misandrism."
Amber shrugs. "Look. Whether you wanted to or not, you did hurt him. You should've stayed whether you liked him or not instead of storming off. Maybe explained yourself, like rational people do."
Theo hangs his head. "I know. I was pissed, is all. Tell him I'm sorry."
The bell rings and Amber stands. "Tell him yourself, dude. Like the great Hermione Granger once said: I'm not an owl." She snickers, then loses her grin. "Don't expect any back and fourth from me; I'm sticking with the one good friend I've ever had - even though I think
you're both dramatic as hell." She sighs and smiles at Theo, surprisingly softly for one so rough around the edges. "You're an alright guy, Theo, even if you are an inconsiderate prick. So once you're man enough, it'd be nice to talk to you again."
Patting him on the shoulder, she heads towards the school. Theo starts to follow her a minute later, but instead of heading inside the school he turns left, ducks underneath all the windows and ends up sitting on the fence around the back where he, Jack and I had that
fight.
He sighs, then laughs sadly. "I could do with your advice, Evan."
Just do whatever makes you happy.
But the only thing I can do is sit next to him, wishing I was really here. I place my non-existent head on his existent shoulder, almost but-not-quite passing through him. He doesn't even shiver.
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I almost follow him home that evening, forgetting that I no longer have a place by his side.
I stick with him all of Tuesday, too. The second he passes through the front doors (I stayed outside overnight) until he goes home in the evening. But on Wednesday, it's Kyle who I follow out of English class instead of Theo.
Because being with Theo without really being killed is a messed-up, self-inflicted torture.
He doesn't do much. Just goes and gets food from the canteen, sits with a bunch of people who laugh like a pantomime audience at his jokes until he's eaten it, then finds Amber and goes to sit with her outside.
Theo's out here, too. Sitting under our tree, headphones on. I want to go to him - that yanking in my gut is still present, his words
about wanting and missing me still occasionally echoing across my mind, plus it's just him - but I can't stand him being in my presence without being in his, so I stick with these two.
Amber glances at him and tries to pull Kyle in his direction,, but he shakes his head violently and eventually she concedes and they head around the back with me on their heels.
A handful of boys and one punk wannabe girl are hanging around there, passing around a joint. Amber passes right by them with
Kyle, not looking in their direction. I vaguely recognise the faux-punk girl - maybe she's one of Amber's ex friends.
"How did you even get on that stuff?" Kyle asks, plucking a stubborn old dandelion out from between two bricks and beginning to yank off each individual seed. He gestures at the smokers, cringing at the smell.
"Something cliché. Family issues," Amber mutters, throwing a glare at the girl. "It was drugs or running away and selling my virginity
to some old creep to survive, or suicide. My brother deals, so that and one other thing made me choose option one."
Kyle glances at her from underneath his long fringe. (He's stopped gelling it up, I notice.) "That's messed, Am."
Amber scowls at him. "You know, not all of us have perfect family lives."
Kyle hangs his head. "Yeah. Sorry."
"You seem to attract a lot of broken people, Kyle."
"Yeah. I guess I do," Kyle says grinning wryly. It's an attractive smile, but it just reminds me of how beautiful Theo's is.
They're silent for a while, and I almost consider ceasing my eavesdropping and returning to those painful silences with Theo, when
Kyle speaks up again.
"What's the... other thing?"
"Huh?
"You said there was another thing that made you start smoking weed."
Amber laughs. "It's kind of dumb, really. Just some guy. I was breaking down in the park because my brother caught me stealing from his stash and the guy at the shop wouldn't sell me cigarettes. He came up to me - must've been eighteen, very short, weird scars. Kind of creepy, but I couldn't help but trust him. He took my money, brought me a fag, and fucked right off before I could thank him."
She chuckles dryly. "But it's the dumb things that set you straight, sometimes. Well, not really, because I'm still a druggie and a mess, but you know what I mean. Some person helped me, noticed me, and, I don't know, it just helped. I still fill myself up with a heck of a lot, but it's not chain-smoking anymore. And you help me, too."
Kyle smiles at her, onto the dandelion stalk now. "Glad to."
I'm just staring at her.
She's talking about me. I did that.
And then I stand up, suddenly, leaving Kyle and Amber, gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful Amber behind me.
Because I'm not done.
I'm not done helping Theo. I refuse to be done. He needs me. His father's coming, and he needs me to be there. I can help him.
And I need him, too.
He's still sitting underneath that tree, so I sit in front of him.
"Theo!" I scream in my head. "Theo! Look at me! Listen! I'm here!"
He doesn't react, doesn't move.
But I follow him. I follow him to and out of his last lesson of the day, hope and resignation to my reality battling fiercely in my chest. I
follow him all the way to the gates, my skin shining in the autumn sun and my eyes on Theo and Theo alone.
When I get to the gates, it stops me. Because of course it does.
"Please," I say, slamming my hand on that invisible force field. "Please let me go. He needs me. Please let me go.
"I'm sorry. I always was and I always will be. Please let me go. Please."
"Please."
And that word wasn't just in my head: it came out of my mouth.
Somebody bumps into me, looking down at their phone as they stride out of the school. I look down at my hands. They still glow in the limited light, but they're real.
I put my hand up. Hold it out in front of me. And nothing holds me back.
Then I run