Say sorry

It took no more than two hours for Seth to find me. He surely will have continued to argue with Charlie for a few miles, then he will have given himself a couple of beers and finally turned on his cell phone to track me down with the GPS - at which point he will have decided to join me.

So here we are, sitting side by side on the same ramshackle bench.

When he made his appearance, he walked past me without saying anything, then he let himself fall on the wood that squeaked under the weight of both and, finally, he shortened the distances between our bodies.

Despite this gesture, however, we still didn't say anything; the only noise between us was the cigarette card being burned. I didn't even look up, though the desire to admire his face now that it's quieter, corroded me for the first ten minutes.

Suddenly he leans forward, putting himself in a position similar to mine: «Are we leaving?» He asks, pointing with his chin to the subway stop which, until now, I avoided taking to get home. For some strange reason I hoped until the last he would come looking for me - if not him, at least Charlie. I was here to sip fruit juices in white paper brik, smoke cigarettes and listen to music, silently praying they would come and get me, showing me that I'm not so unwanted, in the end.

I nod, getting up from the bench and walking without hesitation. Seth does the same, albeit with a few seconds of delay and, as soon as he recovers his pace - something quite simple for one of his size - he puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him.

So many little chills start to fill my body and, regardless of my anger towards him, I can't help but bask in his move. Even if it may not look as so, such love gestures have never been a problem between us. Jace has always allowed his friends to hug me, kiss my cheeks as a sign of greeting, or drive me home under their arm, probably due to the fact that for my brother I was a bit like the little sister of all three, but he never evaluated the possibility that I might nurture some other kind of interest towards one of his friends. Therefore, if in their eyes all this is natural and innocent, for me it is equivalent to a dip in the heart and a lash of hormones.

We go down side by side to the dock and even when we get on the wagon our bodies remain close - the more time passes, the more its heat makes me shudder. Fantasy starts to wander in directions that it would be better not to take. Create stories with unprobably endings, which are fueled by his gestures. He steals one of my headphones, sprawls on the seat enough to be able to rest his head on my shoulder and then, stand there, motionless staring beyond the window - and I find myself staring at him, feeling the internal temperature increase drastically.

"I should stop looking at him, yet I can't."

He's beautiful, this thing is undeniable. He has charm, as do all the bad boys that can be found in a bookstore, among the pages of stories that are sweeter than honey itself and has a way of capturing the looks that seem unnatural.

And now that it's here, that it's so close to me, I can't help but rejoice at it, to find in its relaxed expression the purity I've seen him lose over the years. So I glance over his dark hair, his thin cheeks, his crumpled shirt and tattered jeans, then entangling my eyes in the elaborate rings he holds on his fingers.

«You stop by me, don't you?» He asks suddenly, shifting his gaze. I see the blue of his eyes filling up with my image, where red cheeks leak the embarrassment of having been discovered in flagrant.

For an instant I wish I could disappear, but how can I escape from such authoritative irises?

«Maybe» I whisper, not ready to give it to him: he still has excuses to make me and now, even less, I feel ready to be alone with him in such an intimate and limited place.

He makes a pouting grimace, blinking: «Either it's a yes, or it's a no, Jay. The next stop is ours» he points out. I shift the attention to the display at the end of the wagon, noting from me that, available to make this choice, I only have a couple of minutes.

I don't want to go back home, but I don't want to be alone with a person as irascible as him.

Between the two things, however, the less attractive is to go back to Raven's home, lock up in the room and hope that Sunday will be better than this terrible Saturday. So, in the end, despite all the fine words put together so far, I give in to Seth : «Okay» and as soon as I agree to follow him, he jumps to his feet and moves towards the exit.

His back is staring at me, expecting me to come close and follow him up the escalators that will lead us to the street. I wish I could stay a little longer, but I can't, because I would really like to be able to stay with Morgestern without having to deal with my bad mood or other people. My crush on him is more overbearing than anything else, even will or common sense.

We slip safely along the station and the tunnels that make it up, re-emerging in the shadows of a cool early evening.

I walk not far from the boy who is with me, trying to never put too many steps between us - I would never want him to notice how, unlike him, I still feel uncomfortable, tense after the cruel joke he made about Jace . I know it's a childish reaction, that at eighteen I shouldn't be offended by such nonsense, but I can't stop it, maybe because my brother is really the only person I can trust blindly; my best friend, the shoulder to cry on, the missed love or the unlikely twin.

"Despite this, however, he betrayed me, leaving."

It is also true that it is only for a few years, a mandatory step for those who want to grow and change their lives, but until he showed me the Sorbonne's acceptance email I always thought it was me, along with Charlie and Seth, his everything.

Morgestern's voice suddenly breaks the silence around us, as well as my flow of thoughts and, when our eyes cross, I feel a sensation similar to emptiness filling my stomach.

«And about what happened before... sorry Jay, I exaggerated» his footsteps stop, the bust turns and, without realizing it, I end up in his arms that hold me tightly, albeit with a certain sweetness: «You know that for any what we are here for you».

And even if I wouldn't, I can not help but let myself go in his grasp, assimilating his warmth, his scent and the sound of his heart that goes just a bit faster than usual, perhaps because of the effort that such a gesture requires.