pink in the night ✓

06 | integration

march 22 2010

"Tanner," I called, tapping the shoulder of the aforementioned boy as he tried to escape from my grasp. Unable to ignore me again since I was addressing him directly, he huffed out an annoyed breath, shielding his eyes from the sun beams that were peaking through lumpy storm clouds with his hand.

Luckily, school had ended for the day, so students were bustling away from the both of us, who were loitering at the front stairwell, staring each other down. A quiet whistle of wind settled between us, filling the silence. Thunder crackled from above. Fat drops of precipitations fell from the sky, splatting against the concrete. Raindrops seeped into my shirt, down my back, and into my socks.

Finally, I pressed my lips into a thin line, and approached him. "What the hell was that back there?"

He gritted his teeth, and took a step forward. The storm raged on, this time at full force, circulating in the air with a strange electricity. "Charm, I didn't write that."

"So?" I said, unable to hide my annoyance at him. Not just annoyance, but disappointment as well. Because despite everything, I knew he was better than this. This was not the same boy that stood up for me numerous occasions when I was vulnerable. I refused to believe it. "You let your friends write that. You sat there and watched them without saying anything. That's just as bad."

"Don't you think I know that?" he snapped, voice strained, clawing the sides of his forehead. Water streamed down from his matted fringe onto the base of his throat. "I regret it already, I swear. I was so mad at her and I let that get the best of me."

There was a tender note in voice that suggested he was being sincere. My expression softened for a second before a strike of lightning flashed, the static rattling me back into reality. "So you don't think about us like that?"

"Of course not," he assured me, putting a warm hand on my shoulder. "Charm, you're like family to me. I would never say that about you, ever."

"You have to apologize," I told him, shaking my head.

"I will," he promised, nodding, "as soon as possible."

"Not just you," I said, tucking a strand of wet hair that was plastered against my forehead behind my ear, "all of your friends. Every single one."

"Charm," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you're being unreasonable."

"I'm really not," I retorted, crossing my arms while I ripped away from his grasp. "Frankly, you're lucky that I don't want an apology from them as well."

"The reason why Jane's upset is because I was a part of it. She's not mad at them, she's mad at me. Let's not blow things out of proportion. You're overreacting," he fired back.

There it was again: his way of flipping the situation so I was the bad guy instead. I was always either overreacting or underreacting. Too clingy or too aloof. Reading too much into things or not paying attention at all. Whatever it was, it was always my fault, not his.

When he sensed my discomfort, he reached to wrap his arms around me, and I let him. His chin settled on the top of my head. My cheek squished against his chest. His arms nestled on my waist. Our breathing synchronous. I was so cold, and he always radiated warmth. So much warmth, that I felt safe when he held me like this. So much warmth that my guard melted away. So much warmth, that I almost forgot why I was mad at him. Almost.

"I'm sorry, Charm," he whispered in my ear, rocking me back and forth as the world around us seemed to be falling apart more and more by the second, but I didn't care. He was there with me, and that was all that mattered. Amidst all the chaos from the storm, he held me close, like he always did, because he is constant. Unchanging, like the math problems I was so fond of. Even when the Earth rotated round and round, he was my one focal point, the one still point in an ever changing world that I could rely on. The anchor to my shore. My rock. "It won't happen again."