For most, this would sound like a warning, or maybe even a threat- the words themselves holding such a negative connotation. In this moment, however, you could not have felt more determined to get closer.
You had noticed it a few weeks prior, the purple-blue that was ever darkening underneath his eyes, but with the light from the window shining against his face, all it did was show you how truly exhausted he looked. He sat on your bed, shoulders slouched, bouncing his leg against the wooden floor. His beard had become disheveled, and the lips underneath the unkempt hair were cracked and spotted with red- obviously from where they had been bitten to the point of drawing blood.
It wouldn’t have taken a genius to see that he was not doing well, solely based on his physical appearance. It was when he came into your home after being missing for a week straight and sat on your bed that you knew it was something more than that.
Tim stayed silent while you lectured him and practically begged him to tell you where he was. He stayed quite though, and let his rough and battered hands run over your bedsheets, almost as if he was savoring the texture- like it was the last time he was going to do so.
He took a deep breath as he sat there, letting his eyes stay shut for a few moments, just breathing in the smell of the room that was so you.
His corners of his lips were pointed down in a slight frown as he looked at you with those beautiful, tired eyes of his.
“Stay away. I need you to stay as far away from me as possible. I know you don’t understand, and it’s not your fault, but it’s for the best.”
You wanted to be angry, to scream at him for making you worry. He had been slowly deteriorating for a while, then just disappeared, and had the gall to come back and say that? But no, there was something about the way he talked and the way he was looking at you.
His eyes looked almost pained as they spoke, almost desperate. He looked so run down and wore out, and as he spoke the words he looked as if he was being forced to spit them out. What he said sounded like it had been well thought out, like he had rehearsed it before he came. Tim just looked broken, like a shell of the person you knew and had grown to love.
It was easier for you to stay silent due to the progression. Part of you knew something was going to happen with him, it was only a matter of time. This is why when he rose from the bed and walked out the door and out of your life it was a lot easier for you to cope.
You still left Tim messages, tried to call him daily, and let him know that whenever he was ready you would be there for him with open arms.
But a call back would never happen.
And the last text message you got from him a month prior would stay the same.
Short lil Tim sad times :)
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