Another grain

Prolog-
in which the past is still unrevealed, but the future set


When I look into his eyes I see how broken he his.
How broken we are.
His grey orbs reflect the setting sun and it seems to be a sign for our sinking friendship, while his lids blink away the dark red dusky color.
It feels like the sun is bleeding and oh god- I can't take that blood any longer.
There had been enough of it already.
I want to scream and shout and hold him close to me, hold the only thing that seems left in my life, but he smiles warily and I know that my eyes are glued to his lips and nothing else, as if I couldn't stand looking directly at him.
His hazelbrown hair curls around the corner of his mouth and he brushes it away with a sigh.
I don't know who chose to have that silence covering our meeting, but it's a blanket that weighs heavily and even if he chose it, I don't seem able to break it.
As if my voice was lost that day.
Drowned in his long gone cries that still ring through my ears.
I wonder if he can still hear them.
The cries.
Probably not, 'cause I, hearing them all the time, can't find a peaceful moment and he still smiles so easily, even now.
His smile is dazzling, makes my stomach flip and provides me with images from that afternoon and I shut them out.
I ought to be disgusted about it and I wonder, that if I had actually been, would I have changed something?
Helped him, maybe.
But there was no way to help and he must know that.
He can't possibly blame me.
At least I had been there for him to stroke his red-caked hair afterwards and whisper soothing words.
But somehow I think he doesn't remember.
Which is good, really.
It's not something you need to remember.
Or even want to.
His face looks too calm.
Judging from the way he clearly focuses on me, he doesn't remember.
If he did he wouldn't smile so brightly.
And I'm still watching that smile.
Staring at it.
At him.
He's so good too see.
I haven't seen him since four days.
Don't know what he did in those 96 hours.
Better ask.
"So, how was the weekend?", I ask casually and he flinches.
I don't know why.
"Doctors and stuff. You know...."
His voice trails of.
It's sort of hoarse and shows me something is STILL wrong.
I just nodd quickly.
Sometimes I can be an insensetiv prick.
It's just that I had never been in this situation. The one he's in.
I don't know how he feels.
And I think he's never gonna tell me.
Why should he tell?
I'm only his best friend after all.
"Oliver", I start off, but his voice, now harsh, breaks me out of it.
"Don't", he says. "Just don't."
I nodd again.
God, I feel so clumsy.
So useless.
I bet he cried in the past three days and when he cried it was not my shoulder he was pressed against.
It should be.
It really should.
"Nila", he mutters and his hand comes forward to take mine, but stops midway, just resting on the table.
"Yes", I answer and he takes a breath.
"I....I have been thinking. And it's not easy you know..."
I do. Thinking is never easy.
With a bief grin I extend my hand and put it over his, hoping it makes him more comfortable.
Also to start playing with his fingers.
"I've been pretty down since...it happend and....I talked to some doctors and decided. Well, I decided to go and do counseling."
I nod.
"Of course. It can only help, can't it?"
"Yeah. It's gonna help. It's just. Well, it's not gonna be anywhere near."
I drop his hand in shock.
"Pardon?"
"it's gonna be in XXX-state."
"But that's 200 miles away."
He shrugs his shoulders.
"It is."
"and you wanna go there?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna leave me?", I breath.
I still can't believe it. My best friend wants to run away, after what's happend.
Even the idea of it makes me angry.
Him and I, parted.
Like in not together.
"Nila, not everything is about you", he says quietly.
I stare at him.
I inhale deeply.
I jump up from my chair on the little caffetable we had settled at and slam my hand onto it.
Oliver flinches upon the impact, but clearly gets angry as well.
"Not everything about me?", I shout. "Not everything about me?????!!!!!"
"It was me, Nila", he screams back. "Me. My body. My pain!!!!"
"Yes.It was your body. And I. I had to watch it."
"How did that hurt? You better tell me, 'cause I don't understand. How and where did that hurt??????"
"It hurt here", I yell, placing my hands over my heart.
"It hurt, Oliver. It still does."
I sink back down and Oli stares at me.
"You can't compare", he sighes.
"No, I guess not."
But somehow that statement is ironical.
"And it's not your fault", he says.
But avoids my eyes.
"Yeah", I answer.
It could have been sarcasm.
Don't know if it was.
"How long are you gonna be there?"
He shakes his head.
"Don't know."
We are silent.
Time's ticking by.
Grains falling into the other half.
Then he pushes a little piece of paper towards me.
"That's the adress. You can write me."
"Sure. I will."
And then he's gone.
Just stood up and left the table and I still don't realise, that he's really gone.
And I don't know what to do.
I just don't know.

****

so that's the prolog to "another grain"....
I know it's pretty confusing, but that's mainly Nila.
He's this way.
And since he's first person narrator....well I guess I have to bend a bit....
anyway....
I'm asking for a betareader again.
But I've always done that, with every story posted and nobody ever volunteered
(god, when I come to think of the fact, that I had more than 10 betas for my fanfics....)
....so I kind of gave up on that...
but if somebody wants to restore my faith, I'd be delighted....
and I'm a very betafriendly/loving person...really.....

anyway.....betareaders are not a musthave, but reviews are....that's why I kindly ask you to leave a review and rate my story.....oh, forget the "kindly ask".....I'm close to begging....you know, how reviews keep me going....*smile*....*stares into space*....reviews....*sigh*