I felt inspired after reading something, and here is the outcome.

Even though it's a very short story I have become fond of it.

Apologies for any spelling error you might find.

Weeping eyes

He is crying again.

I can hear him from the other side of the wall, my room.

He always cries when he gets upset. Maybe I shouldn't have acted so cold earlier, it always upsets him when I do that. But I don't mean to make him cry.

Maybe he'll fall asleep soon. He has been crying for more than an hour already. He usually falls asleep after a while. I know because I have listened to his sobbing more than often enough to tell. And after he is sound asleep I will go and tuck him in, kiss his forehead and bid him to sleep well. Just like I always do. It's such a peculiar pattern, don't you think?

It never changes. It just continues on and on in a spiral.

It's quiet now. I stand from my own bed and go to his room. The lights aren't turned on. I know my way well enough not to crash into anything. He usually keeps his toys and stuffed animals in the corner to my right.

He is asleep on his bed. There's a bit of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth onto the pillow. I wipe it with my sleeve and tuck him in. Then I kiss his forehead and stand back up.

“Sleep well Mira. I'll be here when you wake up”

It's almost akin to a chant. I tell him that everytime even though he cannot hear my words of comfort. Maybe it's more for my own sake than his.

I leave the door half open so he can see the light from the hallway. He'll wake up around midnight. Two am at the latest. And if I don't keep the lights on he'll be frightened and call out for me. But now that I have left them on he may go back to sleep once he wakes. Or he will seek me out for company.

He never tells me when he feels lonely. He doesn't have to.

I notice all too easily just by looking at his boyish face. His eyes are those of a weeping child, even when he doesn't shed tears. When he feels lonely he constantly seems to be on the verge of tears. You can see how his eyes shimmer and shine more brightly than usual because of the tears. They never fall though, they remain that way, unshed.

I go to the living room and sit on the couch. There's nothing interesting on the television today, but I sap through the different channels anyway. And in the end I watch a documentary about cats.

I dislike cats, they freak me out.

Mira likes them. When he was younger he used to beg me to buy him a kitten to play with. The reason I told him no was not because I dislike cats but because he is allergic. He has a very fragile immune system and I'd never risk him to get sick if I can avoid it. Because of his weak condition he can't do the things other children or teenagers do. He can't run for more than a short while, he can't climb trees or do any sports. He's risk his health.

I know that always makes him feel bad about himself. I try to keep his mind of those things, but sometimes it's difficult. Once while we were watching a game of soccer on the television he asked me why he couldn't play soccer too. I told him his body wouldn't be able to handle it. He went quiet for four days.

Mira does that sometimes. He stops talking for a period. He doesn't even speak to me when he is like that, just ignores everyone that tries to talk him out of it. I have learned to let him decide himself when he wishes to start speaking again. It is no use forcing him into anything.

“Aya..?”

Has it been three hours already? I look at my watch. Three and a half hours. He slept longer than I expected him to. In the next moment he is standing next to the couch with a wary look upon his face. Scared that I will show you that cold face again, are you? Well, I won't. I pat the space next to me. He smiles briefly and sits down before snuggling up by my side.

How vulnerable he looks here at my side, curled up under my arm with his head on my lap. He is staring at the television, but I know he isn't paying attention to the show they're sending. Not that I am either, I don't even know what it is about.

It's those eyes again. Those eyes that look like they are about to cry. Do you feel lonely again, Mira?

I push him into a sitting position before I pull him onto my lap and hug him. His skin is cold against my own. Mira is always cold. It's like he stores all his warmth somewhere deep inside in case he ever needs it. I only remember his hands to have been warm twice. And I'd rather not remember the one time.

He was eight years old at that time, when I thought I had lost him forever. Frankly, I have never been that scared before and probably never will be again.I found him in the kitchen that morning.

If I had gotten out of bed any later he probably would have been much worse off. Because of that incident he can't move two of the fingers on his right hand, which makes it difficult for him to write.

I entered the kitchen just as he picked up a knife and stabbed himself with it. While I was frozen with shock he repeated the action several times. Drove the blade through his hands until I forced the knife from him and slapped him across the face. His hands were warm with blood.

“You don't need me, Aya!”

He shouted those words at me before he started crying in my arms.

He sighs and slowly wraps his arms around my neck loosely. I can feel his face pressed to my neck. He is having difficulty relaxing even when I embrace him like I do now.

“I didn't mean to upset you, Mira. But you know I get very worried when you are out in the rain without your umbrella”

“I know”

He is sad. Why? He likes the rain...But it's not good for him to be outside when it rains. He could catch a bad cold or get pneumonia. When he was little he used to get sick for nothing. He used to sneak out to stand in the rain whenever I turned my back on him. He didn't do it again after we had an argument.

“I just need you to be safe”

He knows, I have told him countless times before. He holds onto me a little tighter and closes his eyes. I can feel his eyelashes brush against my neck as he does so.

“You're not angry with me now right?”

Such a weak and childish voice he has too. It makes me ache when he sits up and looks at me with those weeping eyes that are so close to spilling tears. I shake my head and smile.

“I never could be. Don't worry about i”

Still he won't smile for me. I kiss his forehead again and hug him one second time. He falls asleep sitting on my lap. I lay us both down on the couch. I'd get numb if I was to sit that way all night.

He looks just like a child when he sleeps, my Mira. The way he drools a bit is adorable. And he looks just like his mother. You don't remember your mother, do you Mira?

He was only three years old when she left him at the orphanage. And all she left him with was a photo of the two of them and an extra set of clothes. I kept the picture, it's in my drawer. I let him see it once a couple of years ago but he couldn't remember her.

I was just visiting my cousin for lunch that time when I came to the orphanage. She works there still.

The first time I saw him he was five years old. A small child with weeping eyes sitting all alone under a table as I waited for my cousin. I thought you would start crying then, but you didn't.

“What's wrong, kid?” I asked.

“They don't need me, the grown ups don't need me. No one needs me”

It was the look in his eyes that made me decide to take him under my wing. That weeping look.

Do you remember how shy you used to be, Mira?

In the beginning he barely spoke to me and dared not look me in the eye at all. I was patient with him, was open and wiling to listen. He was a very much troubled child, thinking that no one needed him and therefore he shouldn't exist. There are times even now I know he feels that way. Which is why I hate to see him upset or to argue with him. I need to look after him.

He is what I treasure the most in my life. The little boy I have raised to become such a lovely person. I'll never let anyone take him from me.

Is he having a nightmare again? He is frowning in his sleep. I don't like it when he frowns, he looks too mature and serious when he does that. He clings to me. I put my arms around him and he calms down a bit.

“Sleep well, Mira. I'm sorry I upset you earlier”

Of course he doesn't say anything, just continues to sleep peacefully in my arms like a small child. Like the child he really is deep inside.

If it's still raining tomorrow I will take him to the park.

-end-

Yours sincerly, Kanilla