Discreet

Derick First Person Point Of View

He winced but didn't say anything, just continued on. He really did not want to turn around.

I grabbed his arm, not roughly but enough to get him to stop. "Hey, don’t walk away while I’m talking to you."

He simply stood there, not attempting to defend himself or say a word. His face was a complete wreck—red eyes and trembling lips. He was afraid. Afraid of me.

I just couldn't understand. What was he afraid of?

"Yo, what's going on with the tears?" I repeated, attempting to be calm, only to have the frustration I couldn't shake seep into my tone.

He wasn't saying a word, just standing there like he'd be happier somewhere else. I pushed him a little harder, got a little nearer, and leaned in over him. "Come on, what's the matter with you?"

Cyrus hastily massaged his eyes in an attempt to compose himself, but his voice was shaking completely. "I don't. I really don't want to speak of it."

I released his arm but stuck around for a moment or two. "Everything all right at home or something?" I asked. "If you need a place to sleep over tonight, you're welcome to do so at my place."

He completely shut down, stepping back as if he thought I was going to throw him in a furnace or something. He didn't say anything, but the look said it all—he looked spooked, like he was really afraid of me, like I was going to hurt him or something.

I rolled my eyes in frustration. "I'm not going to do anything to you, Cyrus. I'm simply offering."

But he just couldn't relax. He was absolutely silent, eyes staring open, breathing all askew. It was slightly odd. I wasn't familiar with him like that. He was always so put together at school, always looking sharp. Now he appeared.shattered.

Whatever," I replied, massaging the back of my neck. "Do you want a ride home or something?"

Cyrus was shaking his head, fidgety and agitated.

I was just about to instruct him to get onto the bike no matter what when I heard that familiar sound of Troy's motorcycle approaching from a distance.

"Go home," I said, my voice firm, almost an order. "Right now. And don't let me catch you out here again tonight."

Cyrus blinked, looked at me some more, and nodded. Not saying another word, he simply turned and began to walk away.

I watched him walk away, and the little guy just seemed to get smaller with each step. I longed to go after him, you know, so he'd make it home all right. And then there was the other part of me, completely perplexed by all such wild emotions—holding back.

So, when I heard Troy's bicycle approaching, I glanced one final time at Cyrus receding in the distance, then climbed back onto my bicycle, observing him until he was completely out of sight.

I lingered a little longer, waiting for the sound of Troy's bike rolling up fast and loud.

I gritted my teeth, attempting to rid myself of the strange knot in my stomach that had begun troubling me the moment I realized Cyrus was sobbing.

So what was with that guy, anyway? I didn't want to spook him or anything, I just wanted to see what was the deal. But he gave me this look like I was part of his strangeness.

Troy zipped alongside me and slid to a stop. He pulled off his helmet, beaming as though he'd just won a game. Marcus and the team crested the hill behind him, laughing and whooping as usual.

"Hey, Derick, what is taking so long?" Marcus yelled out as he leapt off the bicycle. He glanced down the deserted street and completely missed the direction I was gazing. No way of knowing Cyrus had disappeared.

"Yo, man, I figured you were gonna leave us in suspense for a second," Troy said, smiling as he jumped down from his bike. "You out here alone?"

"I needed a break," I replied, looking off to the side.

Whatever, man." Marcus shrugged, lit a cigarette and relaxed in the car. "Let's do something else. The night is still young."

I could barely make out what he was saying. I was too distracted by Cyrus, trying to wonder what was upsetting him so much this evening. He wasn't the type of person we typically encounter. He looked too fragile and too refined for our level of chaos.

So there he was, strolling straight in. Walking the streets at night and weeping as if he didn’t even realize how dangerous that might be.

Troy looked over at me. "Hey, you okay? You've seemed kinda spaced out all evening." I jolted myself out of sleep and nodded, shaking my head to wake myself up. "I’m fine. Let's just get outa' here"