His cheeks were beginning to feel warm—unpleasantly warm, and flushed—stinging with self-consciousness, and nerves, and most of all—with worry. There was a heavy, sinking feeling somewhere down in his stomach, and it was getting bigger—getting harder to ignore. He knew Stan probably wouldn’t believe him—probably didn’t believe him, and that what he’d just said might’ve only made things worse. Might’ve only rubbed in what’d already happened. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to pin the whole thing on Stan’s dad like that. It must’ve been true—he didn’t believe for one second that Stan of all people could’ve been doing anything he shouldn’t have, but—sometimes it just made shit awkward to rag on somebody’s parents.
He’d felt kind of awkward saying it—he just hadn’t known how else to make Stan feel better. Besides—there was really no way it’d been Stan’s fault. He guessed it wasn’t anybody’s fault exactly, but still—his dad probably could’ve been more careful.
Eddie held his breath, hovering there as Stan began to really shake, began to really cry—feeling his heartbeat quicken again, staring at the other boy with a mixture of high concern and slight horror. Because he felt so bad—so, so bad, and what Stan was describing was awful—terrible. Everything seemed to fall apart very quickly, and he nearly panicked. Because he needed to help—should’ve been helping. Stan was upset—he was really, really upset. He felt like there should’ve been something he could say that would just make Stan believe that he hadn’t done anything wrong.
He wished Bill was here—he really, really wished Bill was here. Bill would’ve known what to do. But instead—he was here, wanting to help, but not knowing how—wanting to get closer, but not wanting to risk getting pushed away. Not wanting Stanley to have to push him away.
“Hey—shit, man—hey—it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” His voice came out hushed like before—light and wavering, a little too fast. Not quite taking purchase on his tongue, but brimming with concern. He dampened his lips, breath thinning nervously, ducking in closer—his fingers glimpsing Stan’s shoulder, sort of squeezing it gently, and then reaching to put an arm around him. “It’s not your fault, okay—? I’m really serious—there’s no way that could’ve been your fault. That was just—that was just some, like—freak thing.” He took a quick breath, eyelids flickering, sort of trying to pull the other boy towards him. “I’m sorry—I’m really fuckin’ sorry. That’s—that’s really messed up.”
Eddie must’ve thought he was so stupid, crying over something like this. Something that happened every day. Something that would’ve made most people go ‘too bad’------and then they wouldn’t have thought about it ever again. He thought he was stupid------he thought Eddie was just being nice, feeling sorry for him or whatever friends were supposed to do. Lie------friends are supposed to lie. Friends are supposed to pretend to get you when really they don’t get you at all and they just wish you’d hurry up and get over it. He grabbed harder at his face------almost clawed at it, biting down. Biting back a hitch in his breathing.
He could feel Eddie shifting on the grass next to him like he was going to get closer. He didn’t exactly want him to get closer------get away from me, just get away from me and stop feeling sorry for me, I hate that, you know I hate that, a part of him screamed------but the more Eddie talked, and the more those hot tears streaked down his cheeks, the more he realized he didn’t exactly not want him to get closer either.
There’s no way that could’ve been your fault------no way.
But you didn’t see it, Eddie------you didn’t see------and then he felt Eddie’s arm slip around him. First he shrank back, but then something else inside him gave way------not just floodgates, but something bigger than floodgates------and he just slumped into Eddie and choked out another sob and started shaking and crying harder. Maybe Eddie was right. Maybe it really wasn’t his fault------maybe he’d been talking too loud and his dad hadn’t been paying enough attention and the bird had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe it was just one of those things that happened sometimes, just the sort of bad thing that happened sometimes that you couldn’t really help. Just something ‘messed up’, like Eddie had said. Some freak thing------some cruel, unfair thing that nobody could do anything about.
Was that really better though? Better than it being his fault? Maybe not------maybe it was worse, or maybe it was just as bad either way. But there was something that felt better about Eddie being there------and about getting to cry and just go on crying.
“It just------it just sucks, y’know?” He hiccuped and dropped his hands down finally, fingers curling back into his palms------thin and damp and digging in hard. “I mean, it’s nesting season, so------it probably had one s------somewhere.” He knew he was half just spewing nonsense now, and he still hated how he sounded (Dumb------like a little kid and dumb) but he was starting to care less and less. He hadn’t even been able to tell what kind of bird it was. It had all happened so fast------too fast. First that terrible little thump when it had hit the car (He could still hear it, had been hearing it ever since, thump, barely there, but somehow murder on his ears) and then him looking out the back window and seeing it, laying in the road at those odd angles. Ugly, broken, offensive angles that just seemed wrong somehow.
(Things like that shouldn’t happen. Things like that shouldn’t happen but they do every day. They happened before you and they’ll go right on happening after you and nobody will care and nobody could stop them happening even if they did. Wrong, wrong, wrong.)
turnnoffyourmind
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
jacobvanloon
