He pauses before he joins her, it is interesting to observe her world without him in it. A world untainted and undisturbed by the unfortunate side effects that seems to come with his pretense. She leans far forward on her seat, fingers on her lips as she scrolls through her lap top and every so often frowns a bit more in concentration.

Her eyes are glinting with flakes of gold around the iris as she looks to the window. They shift colors depending on the room she is in. Some days they even appear amber, a deep glowing orange that watches warily of all who pass. He hasn't noticed her eyes before, the sea of seemingly swimming particles. Photons bounding in intricate shape and energy contained and concentrated. 

He comes and sits down at the table. This is life, he thinks. Half sipped coffee in early morning, the small wisps of steam in the air as work bustles and people choose their own paths in an endless series of yes or no questions.

"Hey," he grins, "What's up?"

"Nothing much," she looks up and smiles, "listen, some friends and I were going bowling tonight. You wanna come?"

Josh gave a shrug and itched his jaw, "Nah, I have the show at nine and I'll probably just go home after that. Besides, you know how I am, social interaction and all that."

Was that enough? Doubt preys inwards. Had he spoken too quickly? Had he been too brisk?

Narrow nose and pale complexion, weak shoulders and that ever remaining look of fear he couldn't seem to shake off from childhood; these were all he had to show. He was thankful that he knew who he was now, that he no longer felt that everything was his fault. It had taken years for the fear to subside, for the truth to come out and trust to begin. But changed a person as he was, the slight cower and fear never dissipated. The nights were still sleepless.

"Oh," Melanie smiled with a hint of disappointment, "that's alright."

He gave a small nod and picked at his phone case, turning to head down the hallway when once again she stopped him.

"Oh, and by the way," she says slowly, eyes scanning his face for any signals of truth. "I know it was you...who arranged for me to do that part in the show. I was only here a day and you were in the room when I said how much I loved that part and-"

She notices now that his eyes are strangely unfocused. He doesn't look at her except for a few instants from across the room. She is realizing that if he speaks with feeling, he mirrors her laughter, her mannerisms and stance. Even his praise and laughter seems restricted somehow.

He raises a hand to stop her, "It was nothing. Really Mel, you deserved it."

If: She looks back

Then: He will know

His words cut through her normal barriers and defenses. They touched her with their sincerity, their simple tone and honest intent to bring her joy. She finds herself caring for strangers, loving broad topics and routines that make each person unique in their own way. But taking a complete stranger this close to her heart, enough to dare consider him a friend, to care- hotels did it every night, why shouldn't she? She's had better conversations with him in two minutes than others in ten. Every once in a while hotel might get a smoker in the non-smoking room. It takes months to get rid of the sick sweet smell of nicotine. But they don't close down, the LED open sign still flashes, no matter how low the battery is getting. People still come and go. 

Why shouldn't she consider him a friend?

No matter how tired, how broken she feels, she remembers to be kind.

She feels it binds her to him in a strange sort of way, selflessness.

He never recalls prose, he believes in laying it bare, a rhyme scheme, a format to be followed. He believes in moving forward.

He counts in syllables, she counts in moments.

"Thanks," she says fixing her scarf around her neck. Waving, she takes off down the hall, feet slapping steadily on the cold concrete.

He watches till she disappears.

He can't tell if she looks back as she runs the corner.

-------

Jack tends to tap his foot and hand in polyrhythms, one in seven the other in eleven. Josh knows this, Jack doesn't.

"You have to eat Josh."

"I am," Josh sighs and jumps onto his bed, "Mom's still checking in on me too. I'm fine on my own, really. It's been nice."

"I don't want you to isolate yourself, I'm sorry I've been so busy just-"

"Hey," Josh stopped him and smiled warmly, "Really, I'm okay. It's okay."

Jack looked at him intently for a second, his watch reflecting a solar system of spherical lights onto the ceiling. Josh knows he's won, that he's gained victory and now the pestering will stop.

But something in him wishes Jack would ask just one more time. One more time and he might be tempted to let the truth out, to inspect the elements and lay the answers bare and ugly and sluggish. That the nightmares are still bothering him, and that sometimes his mind still tricks him into thinking he is unwanted.

He wants to help people.

He wants to do something important with his life. Something more than the monotony of grocery runs and long weekends searching through Netflix without ever watching anything. Mel takes every opportunity to perform small acts of kindness. The little she does excites her in a way he never could feel. He can't get his head out of the details. Meanwhile she swims in projects, in large boiling pots of strong willed emotion that drive her forwards.

He wants to do even more than Jack does when he runs tests and writes long words on clipboards amidst a hospital that will always fill up again.

He wants something stronger than medicines. Stronger. The medicines don't help, they don't erase the past, only make his temper short. Sometimes, he thinks perhaps if he told her, she would understand, that she would listen. But she is kindness personified, what can she know of pain?

She has bravery in her actions, and he is driven only by fear.

"You happy Jack?" Josh asks after a moment and glances up.

Jack looks to his shoes and then back up to Josh, a big smile on his face, "Yeah, I really am. I am."

Josh nods and sighs, he can tell. He can tell from the words coming one after the other from Jacks mouth and the glances to the watch to see when he can get back to saving lives instead of wasting time with a brother who doesn't have much of interest to talk about anymore anyways.

------

He sits beside her at the lunch table. Her with her green salad and croutons, him with his single pear. She looks at him, a glance, a small frown.

He looks from her meal to his and gently places his aside, disappearing back into the line- purchasing a fruit bowl from the vending machine. Coaxing a small smile from the silent figure before him, she goes on picking with her fork through seas of ranch dressing and onions.

"What are you doing today?" he asks after a moment's silence.

Melanie looks up, before her a crossroad, a moment of indecision that could lean either way. Who could have known? Such a small choice, one made every day, asking him to walk her home.

"What are you going to do after work?" she counters.

"Library, research, " he says as he looks up in momentary surprise, proceeding to give a nonchalant little shrug.

She presents a hesitant smile, her eye fixed on the deep rich lavender-blue hues of the sky outside. It looks like rain.

'There's no chance,' he thinks, 'I'm already under qualified for this job, I don't call my family nearly enough. My parents left me, my friends, everyone leaves eventually. There's no way she wants to support me. To talk to me and care what I have to say back. Not with everything I have to face, everything I fight daily.'

"Funny," she says with a little frown, "I was actually just heading there too."

"Funny," he chides warily.

A change.

A flash in a stone countenance, like a TV screen humming as static flickers on and off.

She picks at her salad, she doesn't look up, she doesn't see the brown eyes watching as gears turn violently, "I guess we'll just have to go together."

His brow knits into a tiny frown, he notices the way her eyes crinkle around the edges when she smiles. The way she finally glances over when she thinks he's turned his eyes down. He can't piece it together, it doesn't compute.

"Guess so."