Page 92 of The Story Of Us

Despite trying to stay strong for her, I can feel tears leaking from my eyes, and my voice comes out shaky, which is what makes her finally look at me. I try to wipe them away quickly, but she’s already seen them, and then she’s turning away from me, lifting both of her legs onto the bed and hugging her knees to her chest.

I attempt to pull myself together while she keeps crying and sit in front of her on the bed, running my hand up her calf before lifting her legs over mine, pulling her into my lap. She throws her arms around my neck and clings to me, burrowing her face into the crook of my neck.

I keep one arm around her, stroking up and down her back to soothe her, while my other hand holds the back of her head to keep her close to me.

“Violet, breathe with me. In, out. In, out. That’s it, in, out,” I chant slowly, trying my best to calm her down. I can feel her heart beating quickly against my chest. It feels like my own is being torn apart.

Her breathing starts to slow down, and she quietens as I continue to rub her back. It’s only once she’s started to breathe evenly again, and my worry lessens every so slightly, that her words finally register in my mind.

My work is gone.

The clips I’ve spent months drawing and redrawing are all gone.

My hand stills on her back. As if she can read my mind and knows the gravity of her words has just hit me, she whispers, “Isaac, I’m so sorry.”

The ache in my chest gets worse, but now I don’t know what’s causing it - seeing her cry and her apologising to me or knowing that the project we worked so hard on is gone.

At this moment, all I know is that it’s not her fault, and I need her to know that, too. I should have thought about something like this happening and prepared for it so it would never get to this point.

“Please don’t apologise,” I tell her, keeping my voice steady even though the hurt I feel is unbearable. I start rubbing her back again, my other hand stroking her hair, because I need her to know that I’m still here for her, that my words are true, and I mean what I’m saying. “It’s not your fault. I should have backed it up somewhere else, too.”

I pull back so that I can try to look at her properly. When she leans back from me, I worry that I might have made her think I was trying to move away from her when, in fact, I mean the opposite. I move my hand from the back of her head to her cheek, bringing her face close to mine so I can look into her eyes, but she squeezes them shut. I gently urge her to open them, but she shakes her head.

“Please, I can’t look at you yet,” she mumbles, bringing her hand up to hold onto my wrist.

“That’s okay. I just need you to listen to me,” I say, stroking my thumb across her cheek to wipe the tears away. “I’ll fix it, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

She nods her head and presses her forehead to mine.

“Okay,” she whispers, so close to me that the word ghosts across my skin. She moves her head to the side and buries it in my neck again, wrapping her arms around me. I do the same to her, holding on to her as if I need to physically keep her, me, us together. “Isaac, let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

“Of course, jaanu. For as long as you need. I’m here with you.”

I stroke my thumb across the nape of her neck, the action comforting her as much as it does me. I ground myself with her and start thinking logically. I have some other passion projects scattered on different USBs that we could potentially use, but none of them are anywhere near finished. However, if we use one of those, it means all the writing she’s done and the story she’s created is useless, too, because it won’t match up with anything I’ve already drawn.

There’s one other option, but I don’t know if it’s something I want to share yet.

Every solution I can think of feels hopeless. I don’t know how I’m going to fix this yet, but I will. For her.

We sit like that for I don’t even know how long and my legs are starting to get numb from sitting in the same position for so long, but I don’t move. If she wants to hold on to me, she can. I’d be happy to stay here, holding her like this, for the rest of my life.

Eventually, I feel her breathing even out and realise she’s fallen asleep. I tap the screen on my phone to check the time to see that it’s already past one. I didn’t even realise how late it had gotten. I shift backward, sitting with my back against the wall and gently taking her arms from around my neck. I pull back the covers, then lift her from my lap, trying my best not to wake her up as I lay her down and adjust the pillow underneath her head. I tuck the covers around her and move so that I’m sitting facing her as she sleeps peacefully.

I push her hair back from where it’s covering her face, and seeing the dried tears on her cheeks has me on the verge of crying again. I never want to see her cry like that again. Every sob felt like a punch to my chest, and I didn’t even know it was possible to hurt so much just from seeing someone else cry. I cup her cheek and stroke my thumb back and forth across it before leaning down to kiss her forehead softly before pressing mine to hers.

“I’ll fix this. Don’t worry, jaanu. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you,” I promise her so quietly I can barely hear myself say it, but I mean every single word. As if she can hear me, she nods her head slightly.

I pull back slowly and lay down next to her. Almost instantly she turns in her sleep to face me. I rest my head on the same pillow she’s using, wanting to be as close to her as possible so she knows I’m here for her when she wakes up. I don’t even consider going back to my room and leaving her alone. If we get caught, I’ll deal with whatever consequences there are because nothing will be worse than leaving her alone right now.

I bring my hand up to her face again and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. I’ve never had a chance to look at her like this before, and I’m not going to waste it. Seeing her sleeping through a phone screen doesn’t compare to her being in front of me right now.

Even with the tears and puffy eyes, she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I knew as soon as I saw her on that first day in Year 7 that no one would ever compare to her. I never imagined that she would be mine, though. I keep my hand on her cheek, stroking it softly before kissing her forehead once more.

She lifts her hand to the pillow, placing it between us, and I take it in mine, pressing my palm to hers. As I watch her sleeping, her face unguarded and raw and beautiful, all I can think is I am so in love with you, and the feeling is so overwhelming that I start crying.

I cry because I don’t know what to do with this love I have for her and because I don’t know if it will ever be enough or if it will be too much. I’ve lost her once and refuse to let that happen again. I can’t imagine a life without her.

From the start, I’ve tried to keep it cool with her and convince myself that it was just a childish crush, but I think I’ve loved her from the moment I first saw her. It just took me a while to catch up. With her lying next to me, I now know that I could never feel anything for her but love. I feel it deep inside of me every time I look at her, talk to her, even think of her.

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