"How dare you talk to me like that!?" "Please, just trust me, just this once." "Why are you so calm about this?" "I’m not accusing anyone, I’m just saying it looks suspicious." "How could you be so careless?" "I can’t keep letting you hurt me." "I… I’m just disappointed in you." "Did I even mean anything to you?" "You’re so special to me, you know that right?"
“How dare you talk to me like that!?”
“Like what?” His brows rose, along with the volume of his voice, as he spat the words right out, soon completing his own question with yet another rhetorical one – “Like you’re a child?” Darius adverted his gaze, scoffing from the pointless argument happening in between the two. He shouldn’t be standing here entertaining Little Miss Sunshine – he has better things to do than just stand here and waste his time away on a girl like Emma; like getting high for instance. If getting high was an option right now, perhaps tolerating the blonde and continuing this conversation wouldn’t be that much of a problem. “Maybe if you stop acting like one, i wouldn’t have to treat you like a little baby – or talk to you like one for that matter.”
“Please, just trust me, just this once.”
The boy was reluctant to acknowledge the presence of a figure he held no plans whatsoever in inviting her in. As he sat there on the park bench, attempting to hold himself together, as well as his body which shook from the amount of sorrow and pain overwhelming inside of him; Darius’ sight was locked on the view of his favourite place in the world. The knot in his throat kept tightening its grip, straining him and almost choking him, while the picture he had so wonderfully played over again and again in his head grew hazy. The sight of the park – his park, were soon blurred from the quick tears triggering to overflow. He gasped for air; and continued to drag for more oxygen, taking in a deep breath in a desperate manner from his heavy chest; which stung him. It hurt. The memories he truly love of his mother, and their time (which seems so little now) together, and how often promises between the two were made at this park, and on this bench. The memories hurt, and though he hated it with every space of his heart, he too loved it.
It was embarrassing. How quickly the lost four year old boy inside of him had sprinted his way over to the twenty-one year old man he grew into; hiding behind him for he was too scared to come out. Emma. What exactly is she capable of? Her big heart, her constant bright smiles and optimism scared him; it intimidated him. Help. She wanted to help; that was all she wanted.
Licking his lips and rolling them in, with tears that had already poured and had pushed over his limits of self control, he lifted a hand faced upwards. There wasn’t a need to say anything. Frankly, in his current state, he was unable to even utter a word or two. Tears had already rolled down his cheeks, and yet the stubborn boy was still fighting against it. Never once allowing himself to lose a fight, even if it’s him he’s fighting against. He swallowed hard; as though it was his pride he’s swallowing down, and gave the girl a small nod – a permission for her to hold his hand.
“Why are you so calm about this?”
He felt restless. His aching body bruised and scarred over a punishment he once again felt was needed. He should really consider himself a masochist; a meddlesome and stubborn one; not realizing the pain he willingly inflicted on himself had found its way onto those surrounding him. It wasn’t intentional. He swears by it.
All he could do as he lay there on the couch with fresh bruises was blink softly at the girl; forcing himself to offer her a small smile despite how much he suppressed every wince from the pain. It wasn’t as bad as it looks; after going through fights after fights, it’s about time one gets immune by it. “I’m fine,” he managed to mutter, “it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve found me like this.”
He forced out a light laugh to stubbornly prove his point; his body tensing up while he did for every time he moved, pain followed. “Please stop worrying,” he pleaded very quietly, moving his gaze away from the girl standing in front of him. He could not bear to look into her eyes any longer, but yet he wanted her to believe him. So instead, he reached for her; no matter if touching her scared him. It did at first; back when he didn’t know her, and frankly he’s still scared, but knowing Emma, she must be as terrified as he is right now.
He wriggled a finger into the palm of her hand, and rested it around her grip.
“It’s late,“ he swung their hands lightly as he held on.“I’ll be okay,” … and again.“Go get some sleep,” his finger playfully wriggled; tickling the palm of her hand.“I’ll see you in the morning,” and he promised, with yet again, a bright smile.
“I’m not accusing anyone, I’m just saying it looks suspicious.”
"I didn’t do it,” Darius immediately interrupted; the quick defensive statement easily becoming an invitation to draw in people’s attention; to believe anything but what comes out of the boy’s mouth. Most knows he’s not to be trusted anyway. “Believe me,” he shifted his eyes directly at Emma, ignoring everyone’s presence except hers. “I didn’t do it.”
And he didn’t. With the poisonous smell filling up the hallways, the graffiti writing staining the lockers in all black and red was in a much different aesthetic. It wasn’t his writing at all -- in fact, it was the shittiest writing he has ever read. The shittiest piece of artwork he has blinded his eyes from. The fact that the culprit mocked him and his inability to write didn’t hurt. The fact that Emma could possibly not trust him, could. “Come on Emma,” he shook his head as he softly pleaded; his eyes kept firm contact with hers. “You know it wasn’t me.”
“How could you be so careless?”
He tried to catch his breath, but it took him quite a while to steady his breathing; and while he did, he was left with the sight of the girl in front of him bursting into tears. It wasn’t the kind of sight he wanted to see when he had fallen from a gun shot.
“Stop crying --” he managed to utter out. The incomplete sentence making it sound like a demand, one the girl would jump straight into conclusions and take it through his harsh and arrogant tone. “...please.” He forced out a chuckle, in attempt to make things better. He seem to do that all the time, especially when it comes down situations like these. He took in a shaky deep breath in.
“I’m sorry.”
“I can’t keep letting you hurt me.”
“Then save yourself – save yourself the trouble and give up on me already!” Darius interrupted in full force, yelling at the younger girl with his body towering over her. If this was a story featured in a child’s bedtime stories book, Darius would have played the huffing and puffing wolf with a quick temper of a volcano erupting. His striking features and strong gaze kept its focus, despite how near to tears Emma was.
All he could feel in that moment was anger. He felt angry at the stubbornness Emma held; how kind-hearted, forgiving and patient she is when it came to dealing a difficult person much like himself. But he too was angry at himself from the incapability of opening up; and for treating Emma inhumanly. He couldn’t help it. The person she is is the person he isn’t.
In his defense, he had already told her from the start to not bother with him. He had given her warnings and yet she approached him. He had told her to give up on him as he isn’t worth saving, and yet she ignored his warnings. “You brought this on yourself,” he firmly told her, keeping his gaze on her. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
“I… I’m just disappointed in you.”
Darius froze. The words coming at him like sharp knives and yet, no matter if he was capable in dodging them, and could easily save himself, there was no way in escaping them. He hated that word; God, that single word could ruin him like an ink on paper. For the longest time he could ever remember, it was all he ever felt; a disappointment. He believed it too. He believed no matter if someone attempted to make him feel better by offering lies, that he was nothing more than just a disappointment. But it was supposed to be different with Emma. She was one of the people who continuously believed in him – but time changes, and people get tired. Especially when you treat them like they’re nothing, Darius.
He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t be feeling like this – after all, he had made it clear through his harsh words and inconsiderate actions that he could not care less about what Emma thought of him. But then again, he was close in getting used to the kindness she had patiently offered to him. Perhaps he got greedy. Perhaps he took advantage of her kindness.
“I told you before, didn’t i?” He choked out; his throat sounded dry but it was only caused by how much control he was putting on to stop his voice from shaking, from giving away his own disappointment. “That’s what i do, Emma. I disappoint.” Darius swallowed as he allowed silence to take over him; his eyes slowly bucking up the courage to look at her. He forced out a persuasive chuckle; shaking his head as though it was meant to make him feel any better.
“You should have listened.”
“Did I even mean anything to you?”
"What kind of question is that?” He retorted quickly from her sudden question. Sitting at the 24/7 diner and being awake at odd hours didn’t really help -- people are often vulnerable when it’s after 12am; nothing ever good happens after the clock strikes midnight. He rolled his lips in and shifted his gaze to the salt shaker, fiddling it as he thought to himself mentally.
People do matter to him. There are people who he genuinely cares about and even if he is inconsiderate and withdrawn, once attached, he’s pretty much a game incapable of functioning without a token.
“Yeah,” he simply answered; the word coming out extremely vague. “I mean, yeah,” he repeated himself, dropping the salt shaker from his poor grip before he quickly place it back up.
“You matter. You do matter to me.”
“You’re so special to me, you know that right?”
He leaned towards her and beamed brightly at the girl. The rocket ship he had took off to the moon finally made it’s landing and he has finally found his Goddess. Blonde locks, puffy cheeks and a voice like an angel, dressed in nothing but white.
“No one has every said that to me,” he slurred, getting lost into a random fit of laughter; an image in his head growing causing him to blush all red. “I need to tell you something,” he whispered, oh-so-carefully. “I need -- Emmy, i need to tell you something. It’s important, it’s very important and you just -- you need to know.” He moved himself slightly forward, trying to lure the girl closer towards him with his finger.
“You’re special to me too,” he admitted, giving her another wide smile. “And your nose is cute. God your nose. I just want to kiss it -- but i shouldn’t,” he shook his head. “I shouldn’t, i shouldn’t, i shouldn't.”
