27 of 50 Songs and Chapters Dedicated to the Friend I Lost Too Soon

It's crept into my dreams, which is everything that proves that what happened, happened. I can officially decipher the difference between reality and imaginary, but it doesn't make me feel any better. It's not an achievement when whatever direction you head in feels like a loss.

I once heard that dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.

It isn't the first time I've dreamed about him, and considering that Kyler is my illustrator, that can be comprehended on so many more levels than I care to admit. He's drawing out everything I desire, from the forwarding of my awed-for success, and in my dreams between the sheets.

My soul has looked out for me too much, to put it mildly. It's extremely feisty, and I don't know how to tame it. It should be tied down. It shouldn't have the freedom to roam.

And speaking of between the sheets, alone, I couldn't stay under them. Embarrassing, yes, I probably deserve that. I ripped them away in a cold sweat, escaping from the room I've been calling mine. There's several ghosts of the intimate Jewee hiding among here, but that's not what I'm afraid of.

It's the adrenaline that's moving me. Not my brain, and it's trudging up the stairs to find him, whose fast asleep, his door wide open.

If I can't sleep, nobody can. It's only fair.

I don't alert him in anyway that I've entered. That is, not including me yelling at the top of my lungs at passed four in the morning. I honestly have no idea what time it is, but it's an educated guess. Assuming it to be very likely, I still don't care. If you ask me, he's brought this upon himself.

"You can't just drive me out to an abandoned place, kiss me and then act like nothing happened, Kyler. You have to talk to me. What kind of person are you? That's the most messed up thing I've ever heard of someone doing, and I was getting to the point that I didn't consider you to be one of those stupid people! Explain yourself, dude! What the heck is wrong with you?"

Jewee is jolted awake, but his squinted eyes say he's more irritated by the lights I've turned on than the complaining, which bothers me. I don't say anything because that's derailing, and it's quite possible he's doing it on purpose because he knows how I am with little things. He's learned to do that in the time we spent petty with one another, it's instinct. Giving him no reaction, he fails eye contact with me, still seeing me as a blurry figure behind his tired eyelids.

"I don't know. It seemed like the right time to do it." He shrugs, but he's nearly drifting back to sleep.

I'm not going to allow that to happen. "There's no right time when there's not even a time to do it in the first place."

"Okay, but we're really going to do this this early in the morning? The sun hasn't even risen yet. Can we save this for what I'm still going to consider tomorrow because this is right in the middle of my slumber?"

"Like you saved your fricking kiss for tomorrow? No, sir. That's not going to happen, and it's stupid that you asked. This situation? Logical. I have grounds to be here. Whatever you thought was a good idea a few hours ago? Obviously not. So like I was saying, explain, Kyler, what got into you back there."

Jewee finally gets up as I've been urging him to take the hint to do. Sitting in his bed, back up against the headboard, he looks quite smug. He's not taking me seriously. "I was just curious about how you would react, and I got what I wanted. You, Jaiva Shyne, kissed me back."

I start blushing. Mentally, I curse myself for turning the lights on. "So what if I did? I think most people would, wouldn't they?"

"Or they'd slap the hell out of that person."

"Should I have slapped the hell out of you?"

"That was a risk I was willing to take, and obviously, it worked out fine."

"So in other words, yes, I should've slapped the hell out of you."

"Okay. Hold up. Listen to me." His hands were out in front of me to calm me down, but that attempt came out a total failure. Funny that he'd think that would help in a time like this. He's created a riot, and a small gesture was going to fix that? I can't believe this. To him, it was justification. "I can't explain it to you right now, but it'll make sense eventually, maybe. Or you'll just forget about it by then and we move on with our lives."

His innocent, awkward smile makes me more pissed. I fold my arms in front of my chest. "You're joking, right? You're famous and have made a name for yourself, so you think you can get away with everything, and since you're backed up into a corner and you have to suffer the consequences for the decisions you've made, you're realizing that you're in trouble and you're trying to brush it off as if I'd let it go. I'm not. Destroy that sense of hope.

"So what is it? Some shallow reason like you trying to get into my head because you're bored and can't get into somebody else's? Trying to see how many people you can make out with in the same night? Preying on the people weak and vulnerable because you're labeling me as an emotional person? What is it Kyler, huh?"

The man appears defenseless. "I'm not a bad person. There's a reason. I just can't tell you. Not at the moment. You'll have to wait a bit. That's what I'm saying. Don't overthink it."

"How can I not think about this, Kyler? This isn't something you don't talk about. There's a reason for it, and it's probably a bad reason. There's a very slim chance for it to be good. You do see that, don't you? You get what this looks like in my perspective?"

Every bit of surprise on his face is unexpected, it makes me surprised too, but it's a sad kind of surprise, when it hits him in the weak part of his heart hard enough that he sees exactly what he's done. It relieves me that there's still a piece of him that I can humanize, even if it doesn't make me feel much better.

If this were any other situation, I'd wish I could get a picture of that expression of his processed on that fancy paper to be framed on my wall to look at daily just so I could feel some sense of royalty, but for what this is, I don't want to. That expression will remind me of what brought us here.

Why? Why did he have to kiss me? But more than that, why doesn't he give me a reason? Why does he feel he has to leave me in the blank? I'm involved in this. I deserve to know. There's no excuses to hold back on saying what the truth is. It doesn't matter what would stem from it. It's best I know if I want to live another second with this man, or if I want to disappear into the forest and live in an abandoned cabin where nobody would ever find me.

I should be allowed to know from this information gives me, what the heck I want to do with my life and how I want to view him.

"Why, Princess? Was it so good you can't forget about it?" Jewee's exhaustion may not be allowing him to think so straight right now, but with a look, I let him know I'm not up for his little games. His face drops back into seriousness.

"Jaiva Shyne. I might not understand what you're feeling completely, but I can get it to an extent, and it's my fault that you feel the way you do. I messed up. I should've thought more carefully about what I was doing instead of do that so recklessly, but please don't overthink it. I promise you, it's nothing bad. I do have good reason to do what I did. I have good intentions. What you think are slim chances are actually the majority. Believe me.

"I really can't explain it to you yet. It's not the right time, and I get that what we did wasn't a 'right-time' either. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I will make it up to you. I swear."

I debated on how to respond. This wasn't what I wanted out of him. I was determined on my way up the stairs that I would get an answer out of him, and this wasn't that. Not at all. It was an apology, but oddly, I felt like I should trust him. Was this me making a proper decision or was this me losing a fight with his aura? I'll never know anymore.

I mean, this was the man that gave a courage I didn't used to have. He was right about me with a lot of things, and when I came to terms with those things I grew to become better in what I needed to. I liked to think that I've done some sort of good in his life -- taught him a few lessons, lifted him up at times or whatever else. For a period of time, we were able to bond well. It might be nothing in comparison to the hatred, but it was something. More than I was able to say in the past. A lot of people in this world would die to be me.

Maybe this was me denying myself. I might like him more than I choose to tell myself I do, and I find it easier to be mad at him for it, even if it was true I wouldn't mind if it happened again. When I overthink it, maybe it shouldn't be about what his intentions are, but rather for the fun of it, what style wedding dress I want to have, or how many children. Maybe I should let myself fantasize instead of worry.

It's not like any of it matters in the long run anyway. It's pretty certain I don't have a 'long run' to have to think about. It shouldn't be a subject that I let dawn on me so much.

But that was a lot easier said than done. When I looked at this man's eyes, even when he was disturbed from his sleep, and his hair was flying around in every direction and he could hardly keep his head up, I was totally whipped. For Kyler, I think I'd do just about anything, and everything -- and for the concealed person that I was that never tried anything new, that was the biggest sacrifice that could ever be thought up if it's coming from me.

That's scary, I must say. He could absolutely ruin me if he decided to, and I hate that feeling. I never want to imagine that people are in my way. I've lived to be independent and to care about myself. To not let other people stir up emotions inside of me. To not let someone have the capability of making me cry if they screwed up, but there was no turning back.

Like I said before, it's either zero or it's a hundred percent, and I stand by that, though I wish I didn't. It's impossible not to.

And as flowers blossomed inside of me, it did feel beautiful. I felt magical, like I was on the top of the world, but at the same time, I felt like garbage for letting something in. I know what this feels like now, and it's addicting, but it can be taken away so easily. Without it, I'll spend too long feeling empty and not feeling like me. I don't think I'll have the time to recover before death takes over.

This was dangerous because before him like this, as lovely as I felt, I also felt like a science experiment. He must have some sort of hypothesis and using me, he's looking for answers and for conclusions, but when it was done it was done, and he'd move on with nothing but useless knowledge that he didn't need.

I don't have the ability to make him ache like he can make me ache. That's what I was afraid of. I was afraid of falling in love. Aren't those two things exactly the same?

"Alright." I give into his apology, like an idiot. I'm lacking a backbone. I can't live with that. "But this isn't the last time you'll hear about this. I'll bring it up again."

"Fair enough." He lays back down, comfy under the covers. From there, he chimes, "turn the light off on the way out. Thank you."

And I escape from the misery in front of him, to the misery by myself.