asteria

My throat is dry, my diet lemonade is empty on the floor. It’s quite messy here.

Click, click, click.

Charlie has just greeted Nick at the door, I hear their happy voices in the distance. It’s gross. It’s lovely.

Click, click, click.

My hoodie is starting to bother me. The hood is too big and it keeps falling from my shoulders. I should throw it away.

Click.

Anonymous: Thought for the day: wouldn’t it be all easier if everyone was the same?

Anonymous: Thought for the day: how worth it is saying the truth?

Anonymous: Thought for the day: what happens to the different ones?

Anonymous: Thought for the day: is it morally acceptable to end your life?

My hands stop. White noise is in my ears, Charlie and Nick’s voices gone. The overheating computer is gone. My heartbeat stays.

It has been radio silence from Michael for a week. Knowing he is alive is nice, so I don’t know why my finger has clicked the call button on my phone. However, he doesn’t answer.

My sheets make me turn and roll and get up. They’re too hot and itchy, so I throw them to the floor.

I don’t know how it happens, or why, but the breeze makes my hair messier than it already is. My jacket does barely anything to cover me from the cold, but that’s just my own fault.

This is where everything started. The long brown house and the cliff over the river. Michael is standing on that same cliff, with his hair ruined and big pyjamas. It’s just like going back in time. But he is not smiling, he wears a frown on his face like a medal and his hand holds his ice skaters over the river. A tear falls on top of his arm.

I don’t want to be pushy. I hate pushy people, but I can’t stop myself from walking right to his side.

“What are you doing here?”

His harsh tone hurts. His free hand is curled against itself, like everything he wanted to end with was in the air.

“You can’t die.”

He turns, the wind makes his hair cover his eyes, so I don’t really see what I want to. I don’t see if he understands me, if he agrees. I am scared.

“I’m not going to kill myself.” His feet step away from the cliff. “If that is what worries you.”

His voice is laced with anger, not something I’m used to. I look at him and we’re silent for a couple of minutes. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

Hugging him is something I don’t do often, but seeing him about to throw his whole life into the river… he can’t give up.

His body is stiff as my arms circle his torso, my head pressed in his arm. He sniffs, so I press my arms harder.

“I am sorry. Please don’t throw away your life.”

We go backwards, as away from the cliff as we can. I take his ice skaters, leaving them on the floor and then I hug him correctly. I don’t want him to be like this anymore, I want him to laugh and say stupid jokes like he always has, but that’s selfish. I’m selfish for wanting that.

“I’m sorry Michael. I’m so sorry.”

We’re both crying, but we are also laughing, so everything is okay. For now, at least.