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Fiction: Belief

"But all I can do right now is tell you this; it will be okay. This will all pass."

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Alice Donovan Rouse
https://unsplash.com/photos/iJEBE6gdLZg

I drew my scarf tighter around my face, wiping my tears with it in the hopes they wouldn't freeze from the freezing cold. I tried to steady my ragged, shaky breaths and calm down, and after a few minutes of squeezing my eyes shut and taking long, deep, breaths, the tears stopped.

"Why does this always happen to me?" I mumbled in anger, shoving my hands in my pockets as I stood up from the bench. I tried to turn away, but something kept my feet rooted on the spot; I watched the people walk past the river in front of us. Despite the intense cold and chilling wind, it was bustling. It was always 10 p.m., but there was a huge crowd of people standing by the railing, people running or biking along, couples leaning into each other for warmth as they gazed out at the water.

Life goes on, I guess. I felt a ghost of a smile on my lips, and my gaze cast over the happy people once more before I turned to leave.

Somehow, I kept walking for a few hours without realizing it. Well I did, but my thoughts kept me so busy, I never thought to head home. That is, until it was around 1 a.m., and I started realizing how late it was and how cold it was once I stopped seeing anyone pass by me on the sidewalk. I sighed and leaned on the railing, listening to the soft sounds of the water now that everything else was silent.

Right as I was going to turn to head back, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out, wincing at the cold biting at my fingers and scoffed. "How does he always know?" I shook my head, sliding the phone back into my coat pocket as I ignored its continuous ringing. I let out a sigh of relief when it eventually stopped, only to turn around and gasp, startled, when I saw a figure washed in the warm yellow of the streetlights a few feet away from me.

"Crap," I whispered, hanging my head, defeated. "Ignoring my calls again, are we?" He said in a low voice, shuffling through the thin layer of snow towards me. I kept my gaze focused on the ground until I saw his snow covered boots stop in front of me.

"Hey," I muttered, my voice hoarse from crying. I heard him chuckle, and looked up to see a look of pity on his face. He stuck his hand out before me, and I pulled mine out of my pocket and placed it in his. His hand wrapped around mine, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand to keep it warm.

I cleared my throat as I pulled him closer to me. "I'm sorry," I said, flashing him a pathetic smile. "Once again, you were right. You always are." My voice faltered, and I rolled my eyes at how easily I end up crying.

I expected him to tease me, to make fun of me and tell me how "he told me so" like he always did. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around me, so even when I tried to push him away, I couldn't. I waited for him to say something, to explain, but he didn't say I word. And neither did I. We just stood there like that, my eyes closed, my head leaning against his chest as I breathed in his scent and enjoyed the warmth radiating from him.

"Hey, look. It's snowing." He said after a while, pulling away to look at the sky. I mirrored him, looking up in wonder at the sky as the snowflakes slowly fell towards the ground. "You know, you've seen this a thousand times, but you always have this look of amazement on your face every time it starts snowing." You looked to see him watching you fondly, and you laughed. "I can't help it." I shrugged.

He looked up at the sky for a few moments more before turning his attention back to me. "Are you okay?" He asked, his face softening. I nodded, the smile disappearing from my lips. "Boys are trash, aren't they?" He asked, laughing when I gave him a confused look. "Just because I'm a guy doesn't mean I don't get it." I nodded. "Complete scum." I agreed, rubbing my nose, which was completely numb at this point.

"I'm sorry things ended up that way. I really am. I promise, I'll do whatever to make you feel better. Ice cream, movie night, anything. Okay?" He took my hand and pulled me down the street, looking towards me for my response.

After a while, we were walking down the street towards my house in total silence, his hand still grasping mine, when he decided to speak up again.

"Listen, I just wanted to tell you something. I know things didn't work out with you and Phil. Actually, I know things haven't worked out with the last, like, three of your boyfriends. And I know school isn't going great, and you've just got a lot on your plate right now. I know it seems like everything is going wrong. And I swear to you, if I could, I would take all that away. We both know I would do anything to make you happier.

But all I can do right now is tell you this; it will be okay. This will all pass. Every hard thing you're going through right now, every difficult time you're being forced to endure, you'll get through it. I know you're having a hard time realizing that but it's true. If you can't believe you can do it, trust me. I promise you, we'll get through this together, alright? Even if you think you're on your own, if you can't talk to your parents or your friends, you've got me."

He paused, waiting for me to respond, but one look at my tear brimmed eyes, and he just laughed. "You've got a friend in me," he joked, trying to cheer me up. "But really. You've been through a lot. I hope you know how proud I am of you. So keep your head up, hm? You're stronger than any other person I've ever known. Prettier too," he chuckled, nudging me gently with his arm. I giggled.

"Thank you, really." I said, stopping to turn and face him. "So you believe me, right? You know you'll be okay?" I nodded. "I trust you more than anyone in this world. So if you tell me that I'll be fine and happy, then okay. I believe you."


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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