For the Fans

by Nyla K.

I manage to make it through my next few sets, but I can feel Avi the way you can feel a storm in your bones; a persistent ache that just won’t go away.

Something strange sets between my ribs, something tight and bothersome, like… homesickness.

“Tell me…” His voice trails off, and he gulps. I peer down at him, and his cheeks are all manners of flushed. “Tell you what?” He swallows visibly again, whispering, “Tell me you think I’m beautiful.”

I really, really like that Kyran. Even if he’s not real.

Each time we’re together, it gets deeper. More intense, more staggering, more… beautiful. More terrifying.

Then a deep, familiar voice that has my eyes falling shut… In relief, maybe. Sweet, confounding comfort. He’s… here.

Clomping up the steps, I rub some feeling back into my hands, caressing a line on my palm… Our street, where he found me. “Goodnight.”

The chemistry of hate was never strong enough to overpower the hunger of want.

Love is fragile… delicate as glass. And my truth is a stone thrown.

I have to assume that when Avi finds out how much good I’m doing for myself, he’ll understand. He’s always been that way, after all.

But he shouldn’t have to be!!!!

Maybe he’s right… Maybe faith is just belief. Belief in yourself and your own strength; in the complex human life, and your ability to love and persevere. Maybe God is just us, believing.