The wound dies but the scars often remain

I had just met him, and through our conversations, I knew he was in the streets and I was drawn to the danger. I wanted to be a part of something that pumps my adrenaline a bit more than just reading and writing. I got disappointed when I found out he left the street a while back because of circumstances he refused to open up to me.

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I wasn't mad, I just allowed it, because I knew one day when he is comfortable with sharing, he will. These days, he has been filling me in with lots of his past, and history, especially the dangerous part that has everything to do with the street.

I am fascinated but at the same afraid for him. There is something I do know especially the ideologies that get repeated in screenplays and that's the possibility of one's past coming back to haunt them no matter how fast one runs. And running did he do!

Although he hasn't told me everything, I am asking him to do it in bits when he feels like it, because trying to pour everything out brings him to tears. And I don't like seeing him in pain. It has to be that this part of his still hurt, even though he left it behind, a long time ago. Which is why trying to talk about it makes him teary.

"Darling, when I remember the incident that caused my relocation, I feel bad for the choices I made in my life then", he says every time an incident happens that brings the memory back.

" It's okay. The most important thing is that you have left all that behind you and you are a changed person", I'll respond while patting his back to show my support.

"Sweetheart, you don't understand. I lost my close friend because of that...", His voice always trails off once he gets to this point.

" Shh, try not to speak, you can tell me about it, another time", I'll tell him while holding my finger to his lips.

" It was all my fault, I...I... I", the words often get stuck as usual

" I have told you it's fine to not talk about it at the moment, I don't want you shaken up and broken right now", I'll whisper while holding up a caring and comforting face

He breathes heavily, and then slowly, as he tries to swallow the tears that struggle to be let out.

While I try to console or comfort him, I silently pray his past won't come knocking one day. Although, deep down, I would love to see how it plays out. But I am aware that's selfish, because I have a feeling, it may not end well. And I wouldn't want that to happen to him seeing that I love him very much.

So, I'll rather allow his past to stay in the past instead of trying to raise the dust just because I need a storyline to expand upon. You can't blame me though, as a writer, I am fascinated by good stories.