Page 82 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

Whatever happened earlier between us, it was little more than a new battle in an old war.

I’m worried I reopened scars.

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I flop myself on my bed and stare at our message stream.

Xios: Want to know what unit of measurement I identify as?

Snowflake: No.

Xios: km/s :D

Snowflake: Xios, I am working.

Snowflake: And your suicide humor isn’t even creative anymore.

Snowflake: Dig deeper.

Snowflake: Preferably six feet under.

Xios: XD

Xios: Okay, okay. I’ve got one.

Xios: Guinea pigs don’t have a will to live. If you put them under for any kind of procedure, they give up really easily.

Snowflake: ???

Xios: Relatable.

Snowflake: Riveting conversation. Pity, I need to tell a kid to stop eating sand again. Goodbye.

Blowing out a breath, I wince. The kind of conversation I want to broach now is nowhere near the tone I text her with. I have no idea how to start this when the last thing I sent her was a gif of a guinea pig flossing and the message: #me.

Where to even begin…

Hey, I’m worried about you.

I love you, no mater what.

Whatever you’re scared of, Pollux can probably help you through. He’s good at stuff like that.

“Stuff” being “therapy.”

Maybe I shouldn’t give Pollux new clients without his consent…

Xios: Hey, I’m sorry for messaging so late.

Xios: Can we talk about what happened earlier?

Moments pass.

Then, she replies:

Snowflake: If we talk about it, things will never be the same.

Xios: Despite how I feel about change, I don’t think I’d mind growing with you.

More moments. That slip into minutes. That drag until my chest hurts and I’m hyperfocused on the torment filling the room next door.

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