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.
