An Artist's Intention

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To Be "Selfish"

By the time Levi had been taken care, Yukio and I were escorted to Dr. Fiennes’s office. I was given cleaning supplies for my ear. It wasn’t graze, but it had sounded bleeding evidently. Yukio practically glued himself to me, holding my hand for the entirety of our time together. Not that I was complaining, but it was unusual for him to be like that. Did he really care that much about me? Was he really that worried? The trembling in his hand indicated as much.

I looked over to him, noticing that he had locked his eyes to the ground. He was pale. “Yukio?”

He shot his head up, ready to listen to me. “Yea, what is it?”

Whatever I was going to say disappeared as I sighed with a smile. “Can you, like, smile or something?” I joked. “Being worried about me doesn’t suit you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“I mean…you don’t need to be…that’s all.” I sighed again. I knew I was about to cry as I remembered everything Levi said to me. Even I couldn’t lie that there was a great amount of truth in his words. But would I tell Yukio that? Would I admit to Yukio what I refused to admit to myself? I never got to ask as he squeezed my hand tighter. I looked at him again, his expression unreadable.

“Is there a reason you don’t want me to worry about you?” he inquired.

I shrugged. “Would it really matter if…I wasn’t around?” My answer shocked him. “I mean, you don’t really need me around, do you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because…I’m selfish and useless. Why do you want me helping you, anyway?” I made an effort not to sound rude or accusatory, but I also knew the question was going to come off as such regardless of my intentions.

Yet, Yukio didn’t appear hurt or offended. No, in fact, he looked like he was about to slap with me a heavy dose of truth. “Because you’re the only person who said they would,” he responded.

I guessed that as good a reason as any. I smiled to myself. “That is a habit of mine, isn’t it?”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because…because…” I couldn’t say it. But, within seconds, I realized I didn’t have to.

“Because you don’t think it’s genuine?” I stared at him with wide eyes, but he just simply smiled. “You really don’t think I wouldn’t notice? I think we’ve spent enough time together to figure out even that much.”

“Or maybe you’re just too perspective,” I snapped playfully.

“Perhaps. But, even if you’re only helping me because you feel you have to…I appreciate the fact that…you’re at least trying. That’s more than other people.”

There was one word that caught my ear the most. I was…trying. Trying. All I had to do was try. I finally allowed myself to cry, but I also started laughing. I was becoming a confused mess of a human being.

“Oh, geez, Yukio, could you at least be a little mad at me?” I joked through tears. I attempted wiping them away, but I was less than successful. “I’m kind of the worst person ever.”

“Clearly,” he stated through that stupidly handsome smile I had come to appreciate.

“God, could you, like, yell at me or something! I could use the confirmation.”

“You really need validation that badly?”

“I mean, it would help.”

“How about I provide a counter argument instead.”

“Like what?” Then, I felt the gentle touch of his hand as he cupped my face. We locked eyes again and I could feel us leaning in toward one another. Before I knew it, we were kissing again. This time, however, I didn’t feel the awkward need to push away or the crushing need to figure out what I was supposed to do. Instead, I just enjoyed the moment for what it was.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from me and used his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. That stupid smile was still there. Well, that was the pot calling the kettle black. I knew I was blushing bright red as I looked back at him. I probably had a stupid grin on my face too.

I giggled, putting a random strand of hair behind my ear. “I thought that was for inspirational purposes.”

“Not exclusively,” he replied. We both heard the doorknob begin to jiggle. Yukio removed his hand, to my dissatisfaction, and sat back in his chair. Entering the room was Dr. Fiennes. He took a seat in his own chair and rubbed his forehead in exhaustion. I couldn’t blame him; the last hour had been rough.

He glanced over to me. “Saige, are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yea, I’m fine. Sorry to worry you, Dr. Fiennes.”


Edited: 15.02.2019

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