Hello, the little thing below is a creation of the little things plaguing my mind. It's a lot of angst and unrequited love. I just needed an outlet to dump all the feelings into. I am in no way claiming that these circumstances are real or that I personally know what is happening. This is purely a work of fan fiction, made by a suffering soul. Also, I wrote and proofread this all on my own... Please be gentle with me...
My intension is not to harm... just to be able to express...
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There was so much going on around me. An incessant buzzing of media, people talking over each other, smells assaulting my deeper senses, even the steady dab of the fine hairs on the powder brush making me feel uneasy. My stomach suddenly felt tangled and queasy, making me noticeably groan in discomfort.
“Are you okay?” That stilling familiar voice broke through my light distress.
I turned to the speaker, meeting the soulful brown eyes that I had grown acquainted to but never tired of – never used to. The look given to me was one of genuine concern and worry.
“Yes… I’m fine,” I quickly retorted, just to ease a bit of the stress. I looked away just as soon as the words left my mouth, giving off a stiff smile.
I looked away because, one, I could feel the flush in my cheeks deepen, two, I felt those eyes boring through me as if they were staring into my soul, and three, my heart was in the running for either an Olympic gold medal or a place in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most somersaults performed in under a minute. Usually, I was able to contain these emotions quite well, giving off enough, but never more. But recently, there were just instances where I would slip up and get lost in translation – this was one of those moments. I’d hate to admit it, but these were becoming more frequent as the days went by, getting me in deeper trouble than I’d ever dared to be in.
What alarmed me most was point number two – when those russet orbs would just seek me and threaten to uncover every inch of truth that I’d carefully masked behind walls of smiles and laughter. On one side, I knew I loved the attention; craved it, even… on the other hand, I felt like a deer in headlights, screaming for a quick way out. For three long years, I had carefully hidden behind my snide retorts, witty jokes, and carefully planned words. All of my careful disposition was now in imminent peril as the owner of the most breath-taking pair of brown eyes drew me in, confided in me, and shared life with me, everyday becoming a bigger lifebuoy of comfort in a sea of emotional turmoil, shoots, tiring scripts, and indignant conferences – but beside this was danger.
Somehow, it all became routine at some point, getting me lost in the lull. All that changed were venues, timings, people, views, scents, and seating. They would have us perched beside each other, always within finger’s breath away, so close, and to me, still so far. The steady stream of questions thoughtfully placed to bombard us. The answers all stitched and rehearsed, armoring me with the skill to ’give a little’ but not too much.
“Keep them on the edge of seat,” was the advice.
But, I WAS ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT! More times recently than before as some of the questions became more pointed and sharp. Sometimes, my heart would win over my brain and the feelings would come tumbling out, a sea of murkiness. I tried wading through some of these sticky situations, and with your help, I would mostly emerge victorious. I would look into your eyes and the solutions would just flow. You’d get me… We’d survive. But it wasn’t just me… sometimes, human errors still befell you and you’d give in. But that was a part of our perfect dynamic.
I loved your eyes… the way the light would dance off of them when you smiled, the way your milk chocolate hues would glisten with fresh tears when you were upset, the sheen of wisdom and wit, the mischievous glint of mirth and youth – these were the things that made my day… Your gaze was where I’d love to spend my hot summer days, the kaleidoscope of autumn, the dead of winter, and the wetness of spring. Your eyes were the beacon of your soul – a soul that you so openly offered to me. But, I’m sorry to have to say this… I also hate your eyes…
The commanding way you’d stare at me to reprimand me, the stern pierce when I did something to upset you, the way you’d know each and every emotion in my feeble heart just by the way I would bite my lip or flip my hair. The subtle way you’d say you care just with a wink, the lies that my person would fabricate when you’d say you love me with our secret glances. I hate it all. It made me vulnerable to you. It made me hope… it made me want…
‘Coz why should I want for more, right? I’m merely just a friend. I’m merely a colleague. I am just someone who needs you as much as you need me to get by, right? These were the constant thoughts that kept running in my already occupied brain… and thus…more distractions.
On days when we weren’t together, my churlish heart would still be with you, my thoughts a myriad of opportunities we could be doing together- laying on the couch, indulging ourselves in piles of guilty pleasures while binging on our favorite shows, eating at a fancy restaurant with the people we hold precious to us, or even just lazing around on your bed, under the sheets, staring at the ceiling, familiarizing the shadows that would shroud us as twilight rolled in.
Sunrises were my favorite. The first streak of light that would permeate through the curtains as the sun made its presence known to a slumbering world. I loved to watch as the silent intruder would make its way across your bedroom floor, to land gently on your dozing face – so calm, sweet, and undisturbed by the world’s torments. Then you’d stir, your eyes would flutter open and for a moment, as they focus, the browns turn into hazel embers in the glowing light. Then, you’d see me, give me a lop-sided grin, and shyly cover your face. The giggles that escape me then were always alarm bells in my head, making me think a zillion times before progressing with my next move. Then you’d encompass me in your warmth and everything would just be still… for a couple of minutes.
Midnights were a different story. The way your clever orbs would prod into mine, learning my thoughts, replying to my reactions, burning through my carefully constructed gates without deeming permission. Midnights were maddening – your hands in mine, stolen touches, fleeting moments, unspoken words. Did you feel it too? Were we ever on the same plane? Was this ever more than just platonic?
‘Coz I could swear you felt it too. The way you would shield your gaze from mine in when emotions rode out, the way you’d turn around in the heat of a moment, the way you’d fix a strand of my hair in a crowd of people, or even the way you’d single me out in room with just a single call of my name, as if it was your lifeline and mantra. Bitter-sweet is how I felt about this. I wanted you to always call me, look for me, depend on me, and want me. But I also felt the immense confusion and turmoil when I’d hear your silky voice and see your stunning eyes.
You were, are, probably will still be my drug… more potent than morphine… more deadly than potassium chloride. You’ve seeped into my pores, buried yourself in my heart, and infiltrated my every thought – waking or not. There were moments that would run slow-mo, a polychromatic slide of uncertainty and haze that would leave me breathless, but wanting nothing to do with air, if air would wake me from this daze. And in these times, sometimes, I would see you… I would see you seeing me break and bend to your will. And you would break with me… And then, it passes. Back to reality.
Was that all there is to it? Were we just fictitious characters set out to dominate the world, but never conquering our own? Each quest just a mission to bring happiness to some poor wretched soul, seeking refuge from the tired world of the forsaken? Uncouth as it may sound, I am a tired world. Tired of living for something I want to believe in. Tired of braving my flaws but asked to hide away. Tired of wanting and needing, but only allowed to fiddle with the wrapper. Tired of having to suppress and repress every fantasy that there could be something – that there is something, more tangible than air.
As I sat, keeping my sights to myself, mulling over these musings and plastering a scourged smile on my face, you pestered me sweetly. Your voice, the incontestable balm to the chaos, but also the sharpest needles piercing through my fractured armor. I watched you secretly as you fiddled through your wretched phone when it chimed the alert of a message received from an unknown source. I saw the distinctions run across your face as you scanned through. I decided not to want to read into it. No more… I sighed and focused back on myself in the mirror, mask back on, seeming unfazed.
I told myself that my resolve wouldn’t shatter… I swore that I wouldn’t let you see me crumble. I promised that I would be okay, I would just let everything go, let it all just fall below the surface. Because, I know you felt the same way, somehow, but your courage wasn’t on par with wherever your heart lay. I want to believe that I’d given up… I wanted to say that it’s going to be easier to let go. But as you made your way to me, solemnity in your beautiful regard, I felt my heart tumult to heights unheard of. As you wrapped your arms around me from behind, your face seeking comfort on the crook of my neck, breathing me in, mayhem ensued in my chest. I knew that all the lies I’d built to protect myself from how I felt about you were now a Jenga tower about to crumble down as you picked my weakest slab to pull.
“Hey… we’re okay, right?” You ask, uncertainty and fret tainting your words.
I breathed in, closed my eyes, felt my heart shatter to a million pieces, wiggled away to create a bit of space before meeting your eyes in the mirror – mine the perfect depiction of undaunted. I wished I was answering for more. I smiled at you.
I knew you somehow saw through the cracks as you touched my cheek with your hand, “You know I’ll always be here for you, right? You can talk to me.”
I leaned into your touch, partly to satisfy my craving, and partly to sell you the façade, then distanced myself abruptly.
“Come on. We’re going to be late,” I cheerfully called out to you as I stood by the doorway.
You reached for my hand as you stood up, a grin on your face, but the shadow of a doubt in creeping in the corners of your eyes. As your fingers intertwined with mine, I felt the pull in my heart as I let you touch me. Your lips drew close to my skin as you reached in for an innocent kiss on my cheek and something in my core gave way, making me crack out a soft gasp, which I hid with a cough and slight shuffle of my feet, seeming nervous. You bought that and smiled encouragingly at me. Fact of the matter was that, I felt those lips on mine, my brain crawling with all the scenarios where we spent trying to perfect the art in the comfort of rehearsals and a screen.
I wished it were different. I wished the kisses meant more for you, impacting you as it did me. I wished the lies weaved weren’t of those concealing the way we actually felt. I wished I knew what went through your mind every time you actually saw me. I wished you’d just let go of your reserves. ‘Coz your words and deeds were still an oasis where I could retire to, your arms a safe space that held me at my weakest, and your eyes held my truth, your laugh the music to my ears. It was the most exhilarating and terrifying concept I’d ever had to undergo, one I barely understood. But then again… who was I? I’m merely just a friend. I’m merely a colleague. I am just someone who needs you as much as you need me to get by, right? Maybe… I should just leave it at that?
snowghoul
theartofmadeline