Passion

 We didn’t need to go out. We didn’t need to prove ourselves to others. We could stay how we’d always been! We had begun our walk home. It hadn’t rained today, though the sky still remained dark. We hadn’t far to walk, the car couldn’t have made it very far anyways. Maybe a mile or two? Neither of had spoken, we were both silent as we walked. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what kind of family he had. Did he like them? Did he hate them? I would never figure it out myself, all I could do was ask.

“Is your dad going to be mad?” My voice was shaky.

“... he won’t know.” He muttered.

How would he not notice? His most prized possession! His strange car... doesn't he ever use it? Would His other family members notice? I’m sure it took up a significant space, wouldn't it be odd to find that space completely empty? Did they truly find any value in owning the car? If they didn’t... how could he find anything to cry over through this situation?

“Why wouldn’t he?” I questioned.

He didn’t answer instantly. He remained quiet, seemingly thinking.

“I haven’t seen him in a while...” He muttered.

Did his father leave him? Had he been abandoned? Who did he live with? Was his home truly empty? A house housing no life other than his? Had it been completely vacant while he was away?

“Who do you live with?” I asked.

“...” He didn’t say anything.

Both of us were teenagers, both of us needed guardians. How could he have lived by himself? Did he work? Where would he have gotten money? Is that why he found me? Did he want a home? Was I a comforting figure to him? A reliable source? Had he been searching for family? A group he could trust in? Maybe even just a single person?

We continued our walk; the grass was wet beneath our feet. It had been raining a while ago, for quite some time. It had even rained for days, I had to even put a tarp over my window, the one he had broken. Water had been seeping through the areas without glass. Parts of the road had been flooded, though the puddles weren't large enough to warrant any splashing from the cars driving by. Trees had been letting numerous droplets fall onto us the entire duration of our walk, the feeling had been unpleasant at first, though more bearable as time passed.

I looked down at him. I had no idea what to say. I was unsure of whether he would even find me comforting. Perhaps he’d hate it if I were to hug him? Perhaps if I spoke to him gently? I didn’t want to upset him, but I didn’t want him to remain upset.

I hadn’t ever found the need to comfort anyone before, I hadn’t ever had the urge to. When I saw someone in despair, I never thought twice of it. I never had the capacity to acknowledge how they felt. I viewed them with little regard. I had never associated the ones around me with true humanity, I had always assumed their worries of being little use to me, something I’d be wasting time on confronting. I had only known myself, I understood myself. I had never thought the day would dawn when I felt any ounce of sympathy toward one’s suffering. I wanted to help him; I couldn’t stand watching him cry. I never wanted him to feel pain. I wanted him to find joy in every moment. I wanted him to smile, to laugh. I wanted him to be happy! I wanted only joy to flow through him! His pain was real to me. He had brought out a version of me capable of thought beyond myself.

Mustering up the courage... I spoke.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked down, he was sniffling. Had I upset him further? He began crying silently at first before he began sobbing. I had never felt so much for someone. I had never felt an urge to protect someone. I never had any desire to comfort a person. I only had the urge to avoid it. But now...

We had arrived at my house; I had been thinking too much to notice the distance we had traveled. We entered my home, took our shoes off, and went to my room. He was still sobbing, his voice etched completely in misery. I put my hands on his shoulders, guiding him toward my bed. We both sat down next to one another. He put his hands to his face, wiping off tears. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into my embrace.

“... they all left.” He sobbed.

“They all left me.” He cried.

“They never came back.” He sobbed.

“It's gone... it has been... I waited for them.” He cried.

“I stayed there... for years... and they stayed gone... I won’t see them again... it doesn’t matter... nothing does...” He sobbed.

“I don’t matter to anyone... they’ve never needed me.” He cried.

“I don’t want them. I don’t need them.” He sobbed.

“I’ll leave... I’ll go far away. It doesn't matter if I'm here. It never had.... and it never will.” He cried.

He stopped his speech, his crying as well. He silently sat; he remained still in my arms. Hadn’t he realized? I couldn’t live without him. The thought of a life without him... it pained me. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t live without him. What had even driven me before him? Before I met him... who was I then? How had I lived before him? What had I done? How had I found happiness?

“I need you.” I muttered.

He turned toward me and buried his face in my chest. We could stay here. I needed him. He needed me. We needed each other. We had nobody else. I began to cry. Hadn't I been sad alone? How had I lived like that? How did I live? How could I live? What could ever replace him? He hugged me, he cried with me. He was everything I needed, I never had anything better.

What was life without passion? What was a life of no drive worth? Had it any value? What was life without connections? Connections to others... connections to things... they connected us to passion. Passion was the fuel of man; passion runs the world. How could anything be possible without it? Was a life of no passion even worth living? How could one contribute... to the greater meaning of this world? Wouldn’t it be better to leave? To set out on your own? Was passion what drove people away? Did people leave in search of it? Had their absence stripped passion from others? If they had stolen passion... If they had contributed to any loss of meaning in one’s life... if they had no meaning themselves... wouldn’t that make them beyond worthless? How could they remain in their own skin knowing that? How could they stand themselves? They had worsened the life of another, one who cared for them. How could you throw that away? How could you leave and still live? If one was dead... that was much different. Your own life is yours... you can manipulate it however you please... that’s all you have, yourself. If you bring any value to one’s life... that proves your life as valuable. If you’ve affected anything... anything ever with your presence... that makes your life of value. I hadn’t lived that. I had never been of benefit to anything, I had never been of use to anything or anyone. How had I lived like that? How had I?

I held him tighter. I would be happy... if I could benefit even a single person. I wanted to mean something, even if it was just to one person. I really didn’t need to matter in the grand scheme of things, I just needed to matter in the heart of an individual. I wanted my thoughts to mean something... even if they didn’t... even if no one cared... I just wanted them to mean something... I wanted my life to be worth something.... I wanted our lives to matter, even if just to each other. I wanted to make him feel wanted. I needed him to feel wanted. I couldn’t let him leave. I couldn’t live like that. I can’t live without him with me. He needed to stay with me, that’s all I needed. I wouldn’t ever wish for anything else.

“We can just stay together... like this. We can make this home our own! It can be ours! Ours! Just ours!” I said through tears.

He nodded.

“We can cook together! We can make anything we want!” I muttered.

“We can decorate together! Everything can look how we want! This could be our room! Everything can be ours!” I muttered.

He didn’t need to say anything. I was sure that’s how it’d be. That’s how our life would be. I was sure of it.