1 of 1- Cryophilia
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He Cries
This fiction alludes to adult topics but is not violent, explicit, or sexual.
———————
prime meridian
Every day is like the one before. Wake up. Go to school. Stress out. Hold back the tears.
"Boys don't cry." The words echo in his brain. The words of his mother, his father, his friends. The words he heard every time tears came to his eyes as a child.
He believed them. So why couldn't he hold back the tears?
It's 2am. He's in his bed, and like every night, it exposes the pain he spends his whole day trying to push away.
Breathing in. Breathing out. Maybe today will be the day he can fight it.
Nope. The first tear slips down his cheek like a timid teenage boy exposing his heart to the girl he loves.
Darkness. It's all he's ever known. His father was a drunk alcoholic. Dead of cirrhosis. His mother a drunk on her way to the grave.
Drip. The tears are coming steadily now. One after another shines in his eye and races down his cheek as if the ground beneath him was safer than the world aboveground.
No one can know. He resolves to bury each tear 6 feet under. He can't summon the guts to bury himself 6 feet under, but he can bury the pain 6 feet under, if only for another day.
Splash. He watches the tears land on his bare chest. If only they could heal the scars his father tore into his heart, his skin, his mind.
It burns. The words he said as his father hurt him as a child.
It burns. Today, as the clock leaves prime meridian and strikes morning. The tick of the minute announces the day he turns 16 years old, as the tears burn.
———
ante meridian
Every day is like the one before. Wake up. Go to school. Stress out. Hold back the tears.
Happy fucking birthday. It's morning. His mother is passed out in her room like usual.
Not hungry. Who's ever hungry when they feel like crying?
It burns. The smell of the bus as it arrives at the stop to take him to school.
He's the brooding type. He looks up as he hears the words uttered from someone behind him.
It's a new girl. The guy who spoke before explains to him. Gotta give her the lay of the land.
Building a strong foundation. He ignores them and faces the front as the bus pulls to a stop at school and he's the first one out.
I don't need them. Deep breaths as he stands in the bathroom calming himself down.
They think so badly of me I became what they wanted. What is there to be when they only expect the worst from you? He's the hot guy in the school who talks to no one.
Rumors abound about his past. No one's ever seen his parents, was he kidnapped? Maybe he's a gangster. He's gotta be a punk. Maybe he's a serial killer. He's probably never cried.
Maybe he cries. Halfway through the day and the tears threaten to come sooner than usual.
Tears are for nights. But pain has no bounds and tears are timeless.
Rushing by. Everyone moves out of his way as he looks down and rushes through the hallway. They fear him so they never dare look at him.
Not her. You can't fear something you never saw coming, can you?
———
Every day is like the one before. Except not today.
Crash. He walks into her because he wasn't looking up and she wasn't looking his way.
Sorry. He can apologize but he can't stop her from seeing him.
Cornered. She follows him as he rushes to the corner of the school that only he knows of.
Secrets. The tears spill down before he gets to the corner of the school.
Visible. She sees his hands on his cheeks.
His mistake. He didn't hide the shine of tears on his lashes.
Look up. See her. The secret is out. He cries. She knows.
His reputation. No doubt everyone's gonna hear of the Bad Boy's tears shining in the light.
Realizations. Boys don't cry. He's not a Bad Boy.
Longing. Her eyes lock with his as he feels his soul stretching out as if to touch hers.
Glistening eyes. He wipes quickly at reddened eyes. He has to get away before he starts sobbing in front of her.
Sparkle. He is beautifully broken, his eyes pouring rivers like gold runs through the rush. His black lashes shimmer as tears stick to them.
Run. He messed up. Someone saw his vulnerability. He climbs out of the school fence, the weak prison that owns his life.
Follow. The only thing the voice in her mind tells her.
Last edited by Cryophilia (July 18, 2022 9:40 am)
- The Rescuer
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Re: He Cries
This is so good! I think the format of short sentences works well here. Sometimes I find myself thinking or writing about vulnerability in short burst like this, as if the full detail of the situation I'm imagining is too precious to put on paper. It reminds me of the way that we sometimes say something is "too beautiful to even talk about" or "too beautiful to even look at." Just a few words about crying can be so potent.
- Amans lacrimae
- Master in comforting (Moderator)
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Re: He Cries
Just left me speechless, you don't need to be too graphic to transmit deep emotions. Keep it up girl.
- Cryophilia
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Re: He Cries
post meridian
Follow! The voice in her head is adamant, but why? He's a stranger.
Escape. He's rushing down the street, and now she's escaped the school fence too.
Hurry. He's about a hundred yards away, and she doesn't know what she's doing but all she knows is he needs someone to dry his tears.
Impulse. Since when has she ever had the urge to dry someone's tears? Let alone a stranger she's only been around for no more than 10 minutes.
Corner. He's stopped at a red light desperately pressing the button on the pole.
Catch up. The closer she gets, the more vivid his pain becomes.
Heaves His sobs are now audible, his shoulders slumped, his eyes shielded by his hands.
Beep. The light indicates he can cross the street. He runs. She runs after him.
Silence. The city is loud, people stare at him as he rushes through the streets, tears paving a path on his cheeks like the path on the sidewalk in front of him.
Trees. He runs into the forest, she behind him. Silence in the trees only magnify the teardrops. His breaths grow heavier, His tears thicker, faster, heavier, multiplying.
History. He cries silently every night, holding in the pain, the tears, the sobs.
Free. Here, he is free to let go, his only witness is the trees.
Release. For the first time, he allows himself to truly feel. He doubles over, sobs wracking his body, tears burning, breaths fleeting.
Witness. He doesn't know she followed him into the forest. She watches his face from ahead of him, hesitant. Does she approach? Leave? Witness?
Love. All she knows is she can feel his soul. It needs love, and right now, she can't explain it, but all she knows is she's falling in love with him, his pain, the tears.
Catch. All she knows is she needs to catch him before he shatters unbreakable.
Explode. Almost as if he heard that voice, he doubles down. Sobs are now wails, silent trickling streams are now large, oceans on his cheeks. He surrenders his attempts to dry them. He no longer thumbs at his cheeks, he lets them flow freely, even proudly. He opens the floodgates, and feels the drowning start.
Catch him. She can see him drowning, overwhelmed, hyperventilating. She can no longer hold back from him.
Drawn in. She rushes to him. Almost as if he knew she was coming, he opens his blue eyes as she embraces him.
Reciprocate. He returns the embrace, desperate for warmth, strength, love. He buries his face in her shoulder, tears dripping onto the ground as he leans into her.
Peace. His sobs grow quieter but deeper, his tears burn harder. His shoulders shake, his hands tremble on the small of her back. His pain grows and subsides at the same time.
He knows she followed him, he doesn't care. He knows she's a stranger, he doesn't care.
He is home.
Last edited by Cryophilia (July 20, 2022 7:55 am)
- •
Thread Starter- Cryophilia
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Re: He Cries
Silence. They hold each other, their backs to the world, their hearts against one another.
Strength. He needs more of it. He's crying in front of a girl.
Boys don't cry. He pulls away from her, hands covering his mouth, eyes squeezed tight, shaken shoulders.
Gasp. He doesn't cover his tears, he covers his mouth. He can cry, but he won't dare be heard.
Comfort. The more he cries, the more she yearns for him. She reaches for him.
Dried. Carefully, hesitatingly, she places her thumb directly under his eyes.
Tears. His blue eyes open to look into hers.
Shivers. There's no deeper vulnerability than to let one look into your eyes full of tears.
Eyebrows. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyelashes wet, his tears thick.
She's placed her thumbs underneath each eye, ready to catch his tears.
Unending. One after another, they flow. From the corner, the outer edge, the middle.
It's as if his pain multiplied with every tear. He cried more as the monumental moments went by. Two streams of tears turned into 4 streams, which turned into a blur.
Pulled away. He needed space, time, breaths. He turned away from her, and yet he needed her.
He walked to the edge of the lake in the forest, looking down as his reflection in the water.
Red rimmed eyes, tear stricken cheeks, tousled hair.
Drip. A tear fell into the lake. Then another. He welcomed it.
With every tear that fell into the lake, he felt his pain merging with nature as one.
- •
Thread Starter- Amans lacrimae
- Master in comforting (Moderator)
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Re: He Cries
Beautiful. Left me speechless.
- Princess_Lucky1731
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Re: He Cries
This was the most beaurtiful, yet heart wrenchingly emotional story I have ever read. It was like I was right there witnessing everything personally. I couldn't get enough.