I Know About the Pain, Love

He used to have long, wavy black hair, but he cut it all off. I think it looks better this way. He wears several rings and a necklace with a little bell. It means something to him, but I won’t tell. That meaning belongs to him. It’s not my place to give it away.

I believe his hands and arms are his defining points. They are permanently marred by cuts, burns, and scars. They stand for his reckless attitude, his all-fun-and-games-until-someone-gets-hurt-and-it’s-usually-me mindset, and of course, his pain. His emotional anguish, his torture, his suffering. We are alone together.

But we are not alone.

And we are not together.

To me, our relationship goes so far beyond the depths of traditional high school relationships. Those are puddles created by a lovely spring rain next to the terrifying, deep, dark trench that is our friendship. It is based on a love so strong that it defies words and breaks down the barriers of what teenagers should be capable of feeling. It is based on his need to protect my childlike innocence. He lost his so unfairly. It is based on my attempts to comfort him, my attempts to shield him from The Pain. It would be an insult to our closeness to “go out.” Plus, who would accept the good girl and the bad guy?
But I love him. I want him in every way.

Shh. That part’s a secret.

I look closely at him. He’s smiling, but it isn’t real. A genuine smile would light up those beautiful eyes. This one doesn’t quite reach, though it would fool someone who didn’t know about The Pain. There are people out there who feel close to him, who may never understand who he really is. He could do that, if he wanted to. Hiding is a strength of his.

Hide from your fears.

Hide the cuts.

The Pain won’t find you this way. I’m sure of it, love.

Oh, his hands. I hold them, feel him shiver. It’s not cold in here, he must be scared. I trace his scars, my fingertips barely grazing his skin.

I’m at a loss.

What do I do to heal The Pain love? I can’t fix you, but maybe we can find the tools you need to fix yourself. We’ll heal your heart together.
The tremors rocking his tall, thin frame are beginning to slow. I’m not here to hurt you, honey. His whole body is slowly beginning to relax. His breathing steadies, his muscles loosenup, and soon he is completely at ease with me. I grasp the necklace he gave me, a silver chain with a single charm, a yin yang symbol. "It fits us perfectly," he told me. I look up, and unintentionally meet his gaze.

Suddenly

Our lips are touching.

It’s an amazing sensation. It’s full of all the things that we wanted to say that couldn’t be spoken aloud. It’s full of genuine passion and love and safety and just feels absolutely right.

You’re right for me.

We are not alone, but we are together. And that is how we’ll get through it all.

It’ll be ok.