Chapter Three: Goodbye Acquaintance
"Miguel?" she whispered. Her voice was scratchy, like she'd been crying.
Crying over me.
I'm an asshole.
She's slowly making her way to me and I don't know what to do. So I stand there. I stand here and hope for the best because the worst would be a hard right and Kay tends to hit her mark well.
Not like I wouldn't deserve it.
"Beauteous Kay."
. . What?
Did I say that out loud?
Damn.
Her eyes just hardened and I have no idea what to do next.
~*~
What an asshole.
Ha. I should say what an idiot.
That would be me.
I can't even let go, coming back to get that damn picture, seeing him there.
By the jungle gym.
I felt a few tears but also a smile.
He remembered.
And I say his name, and he looks to me. His brow doesn't furrow like all those years ago in our first meeting. He just looks sad.
Could it be from this? Us?
Or maybe Charity decided to dump him when he brought her a diamond watch but not the tiara.
Yeah, that is bitchy.
I've passed the point where I care.
Fuck them. Right?
But now I'm looking at him, and his eyes are so sad and he opens his mouth, and I want to hear him say it. Not I love you, not a dream that I wanted but could never quite get. It hurts and it will always be there in a tiny golden box in the back of my mind, my dream of us. For now, though, it doesn't matter. For some reason I just want to hear him say my name.
Just like so long ago. When we were still Kay and Miguel, Miguel and Kay. When he would smile every time the syllable left his lips, like it gave him such joy. Like *I* gave him such joy.
And then he does say something.
"Beauteous Kay."
My eyes burn with tears.
Fucking bastard.
It feels like my chest is collapsing in and he is standing in the park mocking me. In *our* park. He just whispers it like a memory and it doesn't hold what it used to. It sounds different, strange and I don't know what it means, it feels like maybe what used to be is there but . .
It's changed.
I turn fast, he will *not* see me like this.
I'm used to feeling alone but I'm not used to feeling weak. I fucking hate that feeling. He doesn't deserve to see me like that.
But he has.
Once before . . .
When my parents forgot my play.
I was seven and I was so excited, an after school play. It wasn't the lead role, fuck, I had three lines and two consisted of 'G'day'. And I walked out on stage, smiling and nodding to other 'assistants' to the 'princess' before I looked out.
And no one smiled back.
I mean there were the happy couples with camcorders seated all around, beaming like we were fucking graduating but . . . there was no one for me.
Then the tears started to creep up. In front of everyone. And I was weak.
I finished my second line with a cracked voice. I filed off stage, winding away from the bustle of teachers trying to keep children calm.
No one noticed.
Big surprise.
I wasn't going out there again. I felt humiliated and alone.
So alone.
Before the warm hand touched my shoulder.
I looked up with tears running down my face. I looked at the 'prince'. I looked at Miguel.
He sat beside me, his arm going around me shoulders and holding me close.
"I thought you liked this play stuff, Kay," he said softly.
More tears just cut loose.
"Don't cry," he told me like if I didn't stop he would start. "Are you going back out? Your big line is in a couple minutes."
I knew he was trying to cheer me up.
My big line.
'Oh, princess, please be careful in the forest!'
Friggin' poetry wasn't it.
I just shook my head and then I saw that look. That 'fine!' look. The ultra-Miguel-determination look.
"Well if you aren't gonna finish neither am I," he stated firmly.
"You have to! You'd ruin the play," I said, still pouting.
"I don't care, Kay. If you don't go I won't."
Did I mention how much I love him?
He made me forget every single sad thought except getting him back out there. He let me convince him only after he witnessed me saying my last line with perfect clarity on stage. After all, we had practiced for hours. My lines more than his.
I liked to be prepared.
I was finally broken out of my thoughts when I felt his warm hand on my shoulder and, in spite of myself, I let a tiny smile out at the memory.
~*~
I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin shirt she is wearing and again I'm about to freak out.
I really have to learn and control that.
She turns to me and I see a flicker of a smile.
But it's enough.
I take it as a sign and I smile too, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug, feeling her against me. It feels so good. Like happy.
That's it.
It's been so long since I felt like this, since I this close and not having my emotions roller coaster and send me running. It's happy.
But then again it's not.
Because Kay's not hugging back.
I don't want to pull back. It feels too good, so happy.
God, I don't want to lose that. Lose her.
Please. Please just let her hug me. Please. It's all I want, just this. If she hates me forever just let her give me this, this last thing. I want to deserve it. So badly. Please.
I let out a relived sigh into the crook of her neck as I feel her responding. Her warmth enveloping me, hugging me just as tightly.
Thank you.
Thank you for letting me be happy.
~*~
I hear him say something but he is so absorbed in the hug I doubt he has even noticed. But so am I.
It feels so good to be in his arms. I was so surprised. So unsure. Then I realized I should taken advantage of this while I could.
This is probably my good-bye hug.
And I hold him tighter.
Then I hear him again. He's said more than before and finally I catch it.
'Thank you for letting me be happy.'
I let a breath out slowly.
In another second he pulls away an he looks at me and I stare into his eyes.
And he's crying.
He doesn't try to hide his tears as we stand there, still holding each other. He wants to show me his emotion. Show me how he feels.
"Beauteous Kay," he whispers.
And this time it doesn't hurt.
Because I see what he means.
There is friendship. But it's different because it's mixed and added to everything else he feels. I can read it in his eyes and I see the love, the desire, so much more too . . . For me.
I have to get out of here.
~*~
She rips herself away from me and stalks across the empty playground. I don't even think she knows where she's heading.
"Ka--"
"No!" she yells, whipping around to face me. "You won't do this to me! Fuck you, Miguel! It's too late! It's over! You can't do this to me!"
"Do what?"
I really don't get it.
"This!" she yells again. "I decided you aren't worth it. I deserve better and you do this!"
And suddenly it hits me.
She's scared.
It's finally happening and she is scared.
Scared to Kay is and emotion. Emotions to Kay are weak. They make you feel, let you in on every second of loneliness you have to face.
God, I just wish she'd understand.
I'd rather die than ever leave her alone again.
"Kay."
She goes to say something else but I cut her off.
"Beauteous Kay."
~*~
Well, I'll say this. The boy does know who to shut me up. Now when he says my name its so much better than I ever before. So much . . .
"I love you."
. . Um. What?
He's staring at me and I realize I didn't say that last one aloud so I rephrase it.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
He's unfazed by the curse and just looks at me with those gentle eyes that I remembered from the first time he saw me with tears traced down my cheeks.
"I love you, Kay," he says again.
This time it's quieter, still holding just as much truth, as in, every aspect of it is true.
He crosses to me, extending his hand.
And I don't say anything.
Just like when we met.
I'm shocked.
All this time, every single time I imagined this moment it didn't include me being a neurotic mess.
Fucking issues.
But there he us. Just like when we met.
This time, though, when he doesn't get a response he still just stands there. Hand extended.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
And finally, I accept.
"I love you," I whisper.
And he smiles.
A Miguel smile.
And suddenly I don't feel so alone.
The End
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