I stop and turn around as I hear your quick footsteps break the tranquil silence. I can distinguish your outline in the distance. “Wait up!” Your voice echoes, but I can barely hear you. I don’t want to be followed, much less by you, but you know that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. We’re only going to aggravate each other with our clashing personalities, but you know that, too. You’re aware of much more than you let on. But you’re so stupid, stupid, stupid for following me.

You’re panting by the time you reach me. You shut your hazel eyes and pause to catch your breath in the mild August weather, but I don’t wait for you. I’ve gone fifteen yards by the time you notice, and you jog to catch up again. “I thought I told you to wait for me,” you whisper. I can identify hurt in your voice, but I don’t care. Your feelings mean nothing to me.

“Why would I do that?” The idea of waiting is absurd to me. “I ran away to escape everyone, and I’m pretty sure everyone includes you. You’re not any different from the rest of them. I never wanted you to come. Why should I wait for you?”

“I know you don’t want me here. That’s not the point.” I hate how you ignore my insults. You’re supposed to be hurt; hurting you was the only purpose. So why aren’t you hurt? “ You didn’t wait because no one’s ever waited for you. That’s right, isn’t it?” You phrase it as a question, but we both know it isn’t one. You know you’re right. The truth hurts me, even if you didn’t say it to be spiteful.

I breathe in the sweet smell of maple trees before responding. When I do, I ignore your question; just like you ignored mine. “What did you mean by ‘that’s not the point’?” I ask intimidating ly. I attempt to be scary; like imaginary monsters are to easily frightened children. You just laugh. You’re not a child, and you know me too well to ever think of me as scary.

“If I answer, I want something in return,” you say. I guess you’re not above manipulation and bribery after all; maybe no one is.

“What do you want?”

“You have to let me stay by you for as long as I want,” you reply.

I nod. “Alright.” You know it‘s the truth; I hate lies. “I’m not the best company, though. You‘ll get tired of me quickly, so I don’t expect you to stay long.”

You smile and reply, “ I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I’m not the best company, either. You might be stuck with me for a while.”

I sigh impatiently. The sappiness of this scene is killing me. “Could you just answer the question already?“

“You don’t want me to be here. You need me to be here. And that’s all that matters right now.” I think you’re stupid, stupid, stupid for caring about me, but I can’t stop you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.