paisley // every teardrop’s a waterfall
Paisley didn’t feel like going to class. In fact, she didn’t feel like doing anything, which meant that Lucky didn’t feel like doing anything either. His tail wagged lazily in front of her, even though her eyes weren’t tuned to pick up such a movement. But, the blonde could feel the ends of his fur brushing over her skin. It was a calming sensation when nothing in her life could be considered that.
Everything around her would be considered calm by anyone else, but the quiet didn’t settle well with her. It just reminded of her of the morning that lady found her, and how no one could seem bothered to ask how she was doing before that woman. How alone she was. How long had it been since she heard the door open anyways? Terrie hadn’t been around in awhile, and neither had Steve or Bucky. Steve had an excuse — he was out of the country. And, she guessed Bucky and Terrie did too. They were all working through things, and she was selfish to want them. She was selfish to want anyone, if Paisley was really thinking about it.
This was her problem, her fault. She needed to keep the whole thing to herself.
There was a knock at the door — Stephen’s. He was the only one who used 3 gentle knocks, followed by two more, spaced out slightly. He used it every time. It was something Paisley had gotten used to, even soothed by sometimes. Those knocks meant someone was around who understood her troubles, and didn’t try to push any limits. He didn’t react. He just went along with everything, and with no trouble. Plus, Stephen read to her. She liked that.
“What are you up for today?” His voice asked. “Chemistry notes or our Literature assignment?”
“Literature, please.”
Thirty pages and two glasses of orange juice (a favorite of Paisley’s when she needed comfort) later, the two sat on her bed and tried to take a break before rushing into the homework assigned. “How’s Terrie?” Paisley asked gently. If Stephen didn’t know any better, he would even say hesitantly.
“She’s okay,” he replied. “She isn’t perfect, but she’s feeling better, I think.”
Paisley bit her bottom lip, nodding with his statement. “Good. She just hasn’t been the same since my…”
Stephen hesitated to reply, knowing they were entering careful treading. “No one has.”
He heard her breathing hitch, knowing he had said the wrong thing in an instant. That wasn’t what he meant, and he needed to be precise with his follow up. “Those things affect everyone around.”
“It’s my fault,” she whispered.
“What?”
“It’s my fault!” The words rushed out of her. “I was stupid. I was the one who went with him. I got drunk!” Her voice wobbled.
He looked at her in complete shock. “Paisley, it could never—” Unable to go on, Stephen was at a standstill. The gravity of her words were hitting him; he was completely at a loss for words. One look at her, however, and Stephen knew he had to keep going. He couldn’t be the same person who had watched her from afar in the hospital, weeks ago.
She couldn’t keep holding in the tears, though. Paisley had been holding them for too long, afraid to shed them. Everyone else was crying, so no one had time for her to do the same. They were crying because of her, so if Paisley wasn’t strong, who was going to be? The idea had seemed to important to her every time she wanted to cry before, but it was hard to keep them at bay now, especially in front of him.
“Can I cry?”
Stephen’s eyes rushed to look at her. Thick eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why she would ever need to ask that question. Gently, he sat down besides her. She sensed the shift in weight, Stephen watching as she shied away slightly. “Do whatever you need.”
It had to have been a cue, and Paisley must have been really holding them back because as soon as he gave some kind of permission, she was sobbing violently in to her hands. He watched her: the way she curled into herself and how her shoulders shook from the intensity. She looked alone — utterly alone. And that wasn’t right, because when he had stepped into her life, she had been lively and had friends everywhere. He had even debated talking to her much, not willing to invest himself into the world she had created. Paisley was like a garden tender, and the beautiful florals she had arranged and grown through hard work were the people around her. But that world had completely withered away, and now she was here. And he was afraid to touch her, afraid of how she would react.
Alone, with only her guide dog and a misguided friend besides her.
Stephen frowned profusely. And then, he saw her hand moving down towards the bed and beginning to search for his. Taking his hand from it’s place out of his lap, he pushed it against the quilt on her bed and waited. She grabbed it without hesitation after finding it, and he held it tightly while the tears kept streaming down her face.
He hadn’t expected to walk in on such a similar scene a month later. Except, as soon as he did, Steve was looking up at the scientist. His face looked grim, and he glanced between Paisley and the new arrival before quickly standing up and pushing his way past Stephen.
The frail girl Stephen had learned to call a friend practically wailed from her spot on the bed, and when he looked back to see where the baseball star had gone — he found nothing.
“Go ahead!” She shrieked, shocking Stephen from his stare down the empty hallway. “Run away again!” He moved back to her, trying to piece together the situation he had just walked into. Willingly, no. But walked in all the less. Stephen knelt down in front of Paisley, daring to place his hand on her knee. She jerked away with a sharp gasp, but then recognized the hand.
“I’m sorry,” Paisley cried, her tone not as rough as it had been a few seconds earlier. “I’m so sorry for everything.”