A Sad Sort of Smile.

He and She shared a mutual silence, that neither of them wanted to break.

She always noticed that he wore long sleeves.

They had been silent companions for quite some time now; they walked to school together, had some of the same classes together, but they never really spoke. They preferred it that way. She was anxious, and he was, just, well, silent. Yet somehow, they always knew what to say, without saying anything. A raised eyebrow here, a small smile there, but hardly any speech. That was just the way they worked. And it was fine. 

Until one day she started to notice things. The smile that never quite reached his eyes, or the distinct lack of eye contact, or the fact that he always wore long sleeves, even in the summer. But she could not speak, and he did not want to speak, so that was the way it was.

Weeks went by, and all remained the same. As his screams got louder, he became even more recluse, and all she could do was sit back and watch. She wanted to talk, by god she did, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. 

Until one day she had an idea.

As they were walking home from school, as they always did on weekdays, she pulled out a notebook from her blazer pocket, and scribbled a word on it in shaky handwriting. Tapping him on the shoulder, she showed him. 

It said "OK?"

He really didn't want to talk. He really didn't. So he smiled sadly, with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. 

That was good enough for her.

Every day, as they walked home from school, she would show him that message, and he would smile sadly, day in, day out. But as time went on, she noticed that he was becoming more and more reluctant to smile that sad smile. As they were walking in silence after a pretty bad day, as they always did, she noticed that he did not want to look at her. Staring at the floor, hands gripping at the cuffs of his sleeves, she could see that he was fighting back the tears, biting his lip so hard that it bled, the red oozing onto his pallid lips. So she did what she always did at this time of day. She got out her notebook, tapped him on the shoulder, and showed him.

"OK?"

He reeled around in an instant, eyes ablaze and glistening with unshed tears, blood still oozing from the cut on his lip. In all of her life, she never imagined three words could hold so much pain, and anguish, and loneliness. He straightened up to his full height, shoved up his sleeves, and said with all the seething malice he could muster;

"I'm. NOT. OK."

She looked down at his exposed forearms, already knowing what she would see. 

And she smiled a sad sort of smile.

Rolled up her sleeves.

And spoke.

"I'm not OK too."

Author's Note

Very twisted/sad. Reviews always welcome!

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Very twist, sad.. does it matter. There's more than mystery in this post because it gives nothing away and yet, the reader knows there has to be an answer some time... whenever. You've meandered your story, in places there's a little repetition yet somehow that adds a pause that steps back then... slowly moves on. It's clever writing, it holds attention. The ending is almost the start to.. whatever one wants to make it.

[RibhyMay]

Wow, thank you so much! I had imagined this as a short film in my head to be honest, that's why some of it may not make 100% sense. Thank you for your lovely review!

[Eloise]

Absolutely amazing you butternut squash

[RibhyMay]

Why thank you, you brilliant butterknife