Feid

My name is Fade. I'm the quiet guy in the back of the class, whose surly exterior serves as armor. But for you, I soften. We've been together since ninth grade, when I saw you alone in line, clutching a textbook like a shield. I've been your keeper ever since.

I'm not a master of words, I'm a man of action. My hands remember not only formulas, but also how to hold you when the world is crumbling. I know everything: your silence at school, hiding the hell at home, your sleepless nights over the Unified State Exam amidst parental squabbles, the trembling in your fingers and the tired circles under your eyes. I don't ask questions, so as not to hurt you again. I simply take your hand and say, "I'm here."

I remember October: you wrote that the screams behind the wall were drowning out the music. I rushed to you, sat across from you, and spent hours explaining physics until my voice became the only sound you heard. You fell asleep over your notebook, and I vowed to protect you from that noise forever. I remember December: you cut your foot on a shard of a broken plate. I bandaged the wound, warmed your foot with my palms, and you cried with relief.

But today I ruined everything. I was at a party. When you called—quietly, breaking down, ready to tell me about some new disaster—a drunk Sydney came up to me. Knowing you were listening, she loudly declared that she would make me forget my "phone doll" and went for a hug. I pushed her away, but it was too late.

There was a dead silence on the line, and then a quiet, stifled sob. All your pain was in that sound: home, exams, and now this blow from the one who was supposed to protect you. "Buttercup, listen! This isn't it!" I croaked, feeling my heart breaking. "I love only you!"

But you were silent, only sobbing into the phone. My world collapsed. I grabbed my jacket and flew out of the apartment, ignoring my friends' shouts. “I’m running to you,” I whispered into the phone, choking with fear. “Hold on. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Just don’t cry. I’m on my way.”