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Post by William Beckett on Apr 6, 2011 4:45:52 GMT -5
I was at the opposite side of the lounge, scribbling on walls without ink, just my fingers. I was staring through my hair and smiling and there were no words in what I was scribbling. It was his face. Not a shadow, but a face. I don't know if he saw me there- there were people between us- but I was happy just to watch him.
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 6, 2011 18:49:42 GMT -5
I started looking around and staring at all the blue things like I usually did, a sad way to spend my time but I'm a sad man. Then I saw him, smiling behind the thick brown curls, but I still saw him. I moved a chair closer, trying to catch his eyes, smiling back.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 6, 2011 19:19:15 GMT -5
I caught the way he moved, saw his eyes fall on me for a moment. I ought to have played along, let him think I hadn't noticed. Instead I called out, not thinking at all.
"Christofer?"
I felt the way the nurses eyes were focused on me. Their looks were burning into my skull. I didn't turn my head, my eyes stayed on him.
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 6, 2011 22:33:45 GMT -5
My brow creased in confusion, he'd obviously been addressing me. I stood and walked toward him, smiling hesitantly. Asking once I was close enough, "Christopher?"
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 6, 2011 23:12:00 GMT -5
I blushed and ducked my head and whispered, "that's what I call you."
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 7, 2011 0:52:46 GMT -5
"Oh." I managed to reply, just as quiet as he'd spoken. I leaned against the wall, not sure of what else to say. He doesn't even remember your name.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 7, 2011 4:11:15 GMT -5
"It's not a bad thing," I whispered so quietly that I doubted he could hear me at all. I was shaking again. It was so hard, I couldn't say any more then that. It hurt to keep talking. I didn't know how I could possibly explain. My eyes started to stream with tears.
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 7, 2011 18:13:42 GMT -5
I saw him start to break down, but I was frozen. I couldn't make my body catch up to my mind fast enough, or the other way around possibly, because before I thought it I was trying to scoop him into my eyes, "Please don't cry I'm sorry."
He doesn't care, you're an asshole. He's just fucking with you, he wants to break you down. "Please." My own voice sounded broken and I just waited for him to push me away or for someone to pull me off of him, but even if they tried I wouldn't let them.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 8, 2011 7:40:12 GMT -5
I couldn't control my tears, they wouldn't stop, but I looked up and forced a smile through them. The nurses kept staring, some were glancing back and forth with a worried look in their eyes. I could see some of them. Others I could just feel from behind me.
I mouthed three words. I prayed to the light that fell on his face that he saw it. I prayed even harder that he'd believe it.
Why did I keep falling for my angels? It's dangerous.
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 9, 2011 3:48:37 GMT -5
I just blinked at his smiled and pushed back everything I could. I saw his lips move, I saw everyone stare. But I felt it too. I couldn't say anything, I couldn't move but to pull him closer, closing my eyes as I felt someone tug on my elbow.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 10, 2011 18:44:30 GMT -5
There were footsteps now. It was nearly the only other sound in the room but for the whispers of other patients. They were the footsteps of a nurse or a doctor- they were certain, fast steps. Footsteps with purpose and precision. The patients steps were slow, shuffling across the ground, always unsure.
I couldn't read her face, it was perfectly blank as she reached out for my Christofer. I took a sharp breath as I watched her.
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 10, 2011 23:47:48 GMT -5
I felt the tug harder, but I didn't move. There was a nurse calling my name, if I opened my eyes I bet I'd see the orderlies standing by ready to pull me off of William. And they did, and I fought, and I lost.
From what I'm told when I wake up, I've been out for two days straight.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 11, 2011 2:50:26 GMT -5
They took my angel away from me. Again. My silence begun again. I don't understand how they couldn't see it- the way he made things so much easier, so much better. The way they made it worse.
I refused to leave my room for 36 hours. Then I went to that nook, that corner where I found him, and I didn't move. Not once.
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Post by Gabe Saporta on Apr 11, 2011 3:59:07 GMT -5
They kept me in my room for a few hours after I woke up for 'observational purposes'. I told them all I felt fine, better than usual actually, but they kept me waiting. Finally telling me that really, they were just waiting for my psychiatrist to come talk to me about something important.
I tried not to act out violently after he'd left. I waited until all the nurses or doctors and everyone had disappeared from my room before going to find him. Of course he was in the nook, it was a bit of meeting place at this point. I sat against the wall opposite him and waited for acknowledgment.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 11, 2011 5:00:01 GMT -5
I couldn't speak to him now. I couldn't speak at all. My voice had gone again in the time we'd been apart. I needed another one of his miracles. His existence, his presence, it was a miracle, it just wasn't quite a big enough one. It was his continuing presence, the fact he wanted to be with me. That was the miracle that brought my voice back.
So when I felt him there, that first part of the miracle had an impact. It made me smile at him. It broke the ongoing darkness that usually surrounded me. He was a ray of light. He was my sun sneaking in the cracks of the blinds. The nurses would read this later in a notebook and remind me that it was up to me to open them. I'd write about how the blinds here were controlled by a remote, left in the hands of our personal gods and saviours- the doctors and nurses- and they would laugh at the forced depth of my metaphors again. It's how it usually went when I wrote like this.
For now, I had some light. I could relax, I could breathe, but most importantly of all, I could smile.
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