Eighth

                                    

                                          
Lectures flew by, one after another in a buzz after recess.
Recess in which I had... cried in front of someone.
That someone being James.
I was afraid that having let a river of salty water flow right in front of him was going to make things awkward or something.
But funnily enough, it seemed like the complete opposite of that. 
It felt like one of the many walls I had built around me broke down with a massive crash. And as unnerving it was, it also made me feel... good? More relaxed. Maybe they had some point saying it's good to let it out sometimes.
As for James, he didn't push me about the abrasion again. He didn't even let me feel any guilt or embarrassment about bawling like that in front of him. He talked like we usually did, he grinned like always– but there was a soft smile on his face sometimes which, as delusive as it sounded, felt like it was directed to me and only me. 
When the dispersal bell sounded, the disappointment that hit me didn't elude from the fact that how much I was starting to find comfort in school, going hand in hand with the suffocation I felt at home– which had only been increasing lately.
"Huh? You aren't going home?" 
"Nope," James answered as we walked out of the class, turning the lock screen of his phone off. "I will just crash in the library for now."
"What about Elara?" I asked, having become aware of the fact from a while that James was a... doting brother, to say the least. He was more attached and aware of his sister's life than a normal guy his age would be. 
The way his thought process worked and the way he worried about things; big or small, were something comparable to how a parent acted, rather than a sibling. 
I had my guesses about the reasons.
"She is going to be out with some friends of hers."
The students pushed past us and James stopped, pointing to the left corridor. 
"I will see you tomorrow then," he said. "Au revoir."
"Actually," I spoke up before he could leave. "You don't mind if I come, right?"
James tilted his head at me, a small smile curling on his lips.
"Guess I am rubbing off on you?" he let out a laugh. "Come on, you don't need to ask."
Smiling, I picked up pace, taking the left corridor to the library with him.
"You don't want to go home?" he asked slowly.
"I don't."
James let the conversation drift to silence, not pushing ahead to ask anything else.
"You didn't ask about the graze again," I pointed out. "Not curious?"
His gaze moved to my forehead for a second, softening before returning to my face again. 
"Honestly, I am," he said. "But I think you are done with your daily quota of opening up, aren't you?"
A small chuckle escaped my lips. That sounded right on the mark. "I think I already sorta kinda broke the quota today."
"Sorta kinda," he repeated. 
I wanted to tell him, for some reason. I wanted to tell him what had happened. But it was too hard to form words to explain what had.
My memory fell back to the morning. The way they were fighting again. Nothing new there.