it's just a little white lie, adna

[bethlehem]

I can get there on my own. you can leave me here alone.

He has made himself scarce.
It has been weeks.
But he is tired.
Tired of fighting, mostly.
Tired of pretending like he’s something he’s not and has never been.

He has stuck to the shadows. Not because he didn’t want to be found but because the darkness settles around him like something warm and familiar. In the shadows he is free to be the nothing that he is and has always been.

He has had time to think about it, of course. He has had time to think about leaving. He could return to the meadow or the forest or the edge of the river – the only thing that ever worked to drown out all of the noise in his head. It would be easy enough. He was certain that he could do it without so much as a backwards glance.

But he doesn’t. Because he is nothing and he is worthless but he is not cruel. Because he does love her, even if it’s in the wrong way. Even if he does not understand her darkness. Even if all they ever do is cut each other on the sharp edges they have created. Even if all they ever do is rail against one another.

He seeks her out now. It has taken him weeks because he is proud. He does not try to swallow his pride now. He does not apologize. He does not grovel because he wasn’t built for it.

He stands there in front of her and he shakes his head and he says, “we can’t keep living this way.”

It is plain, almost mournful. “We have to make a decision,” he continues. “Together or apart and I’m not going to fight with you about it.”

BETHLEHEM

I'm just tryin' to do what's right. oh, a man ain't a man unless he's fought the fight.