I shouldn’t have read that letter. It was childish of me to think she’d want the same thing. I leaned back and the chair creaked. Did she think I was a freak? I thought we could be more than friends this morning, but I’d do anything to take back what I said now.

My stomach felt like it was twisting, my head felt as if I had hit it against something and my breaths were shaky. She hasn’t even read anything I sent her. Is she ignoring me? Would this be how it is from now on?

She’s done so much for me. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know how I would endure going to school anymore. My phone was in front of me, lifeless, like it was telling me to stop already.

I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly through my nose, then let it out. My mother’s answer to everything. It was alright. Sunshine would turn me down gently, wouldn’t she? She’s not a bad person. It’d be like this never happened.

Would I want that?

We’ll go back to always texting each other. Sunshine would want things to be normal again. F**k, I didn’t want that. I wanted to hold her, tell her how much she mattered to me, and be anything she wanted me to be.

The TV downstairs interrupted my thoughts. A laugh track played over and over again, pausing every now and then. I stomped the floor then grabbed my phone, checking to see if she had responded.

No response.

“Turn it down!” I yelled.

I put down the phone and thought they heard me, but then the laughter came again. My chest hurt the more I breathed in and out, what felt like a knife had somehow lodged itself in there and kept poking me. Why couldn’t those fuckers just turn down the volume? Why wouldn’t Sunshine respond?

My legs were in front of my chest, my knees touching my bony collarbone. I wrapped one of my arms around myself. It’d be nice to hold her or be held like this. One hand blitzed on the keyboard and brought up Spotify. I didn’t know what band was playing, I could barely see the screen with my contacts off. The singer had a soft voice for a man, but it was pleasant.

The laughter track faded away as I turned up the speakers. The phone was underneath the monitor and showed a one-sided conversation that consisted of me apologizing a lot and asking what she thought about my confession. Other than the screen’s glow, the phone was dead, quiet and still.

My head still hurt. I rested my chin on one of my knees and stared down at the carpet. I closed my eyes and listened to the man who sang, his music tried to drown out everything else. Sunshine, my family in the living room, my homework due tomorrow, the pain in my back, the pounding in my head.

All I wanted was to be with her. Couldn’t she understand I needed that? I didn’t want to screw her, I wanted to be closer to her. It felt like we were separated by a chasm as only friends.

“Bonnie?” My mom shouted and knocked on the door. She tried to open it, but it was locked, like always.

“What is it?” I shouted back, my throat hurting.

My back was messed up from sitting in the chair like that. It hurt getting up. I sighed as I walked over towards the door

With a slouch in my step, I undid the lock and opened my door for the first time since I got home.

“Yeah?” I asked again, this time less of a shout. A different song played from the speakers, but it was the same guy, this time more aggressive and throaty with clapping and trumpets alongside him.

She stood in front of the doorway, a head and a half shorter than me but what she lacked in height, she more than made up for it with a smile that any animal with half a sense of preservation would back down from.

With her hands on her hips, she made a show of staring at my feet, straining her eyes.

“What?” I muttered.

“I could’ve sweared I heard stomping from upstairs,” she started, her eyes still on my feet. “You’re not a stomper though. Never have been.”

I forced a smile on my face, my cheeks pulled painfully taunt.

“But you are a runner.” She put a hand to her chin, stroking an imaginary beard. “Your feet must be confused. No wonder they’re misbehaving.”

“Is there a reason you’re neglecting them so? What did they do to deserve this, Bonnie?”

The smile fell from my face.

Her smile shrunk a little and her hand went back to her hip.

“I don’t feel like laughing at you tonight,” I told her. “Running just didn’t seem like the thing to do tonight. Besides, I have homework to do.”

Mom still stood in the doorway, but the smile went away. It was replaced with caring eyes instead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

I shook my head and put a hand on the door.

“Not tonight.”

She looked at me softly and touched the hand on the door.

“You know where I’m at.”

I pulled back my hand and closed the door behind me, turning around and sinking down in front of it. The lamp’s dim light and the song from my speakers were the only other sources of life in the room.