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The thoughts of depression had been seeping back into my core through the new cracks in my shell for the whole evening. It was easier to breathe when he was here. Not that I could not breathe, but him not being here made my breathing bland and stiff, as if my lungs were turning into stone. I tried to distract myself with what I was supposed to do, what I had promised him I would do. And I was doing it, studying maths just like I said I would. But every minute I could feel one more finger squeeing around my throat. My own thoughts were torturing me, all the questions of why, when and how were running around my head like horses set free into a sunny meadow. Expect my thoughts were not galloping of excitement, but dread and self-hatred. The tears prickling in my eyes just fuelled the fire inside my hollow heart. And I wondered, pondered and finally mustered the courage to send him a message. I was not feeling too well.

I did not want to ruin his night. I was afraid if I told im I’d scare him away. He said we’ll always been honest with each other, and he wouldn’t be scared. I mulled some more and in the end told him about how I was actually feeling. Soon I sent him more messages talking about how I should not be bothering him with my issues. He answered by calling me, asking me if I wanted him to come over to my rescue. It took me a while to admit that I needed him. That I wanted him to come to me, to hopefully help me feel better. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to come over and see the bottom of the ocean in my eyes. He arrived sooner than he said that he would. He had hurried. 

While I laid on his chest I could feel his heart beating faster than I’ve ever heard it before. I could not tell if it was from biking so fast or worry. Whatever it was, I still felt bad. When he had arrived I had immediately coiled my arms around his waist. I did not think of myself as a person who needed much physical affection, coming from a culture where children were usually only hugged when upset, but being with him had taught me something new about myself, given me a chance to look at myself from a different light. I don’t know what it is, but it just feels comforting to feel his touch on me. So there we laid, on my cloudy fortress of a bed and I told him about it all. Told him about how hopeless I felt, how the thoughts in my head just went round and round without stopping. It was a sweet moment, a very sweet one. I cried in his arms like in all of those lovely movies about love. He said he wasn’t bothered about me calling him so late at night. For once, I had someone who valued me.